• Published 21st Mar 2012
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Sharing the Night - Cast-Iron Caryatid



Twilight becomes alicorn of the stars. This is sort of a problem, because Luna kind of already was alicorn of the stars. Oops!

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Chapter 16

Sharing the Night: Chapter 16

✶ ✶ ✶

The atmosphere on the train ride to Canterlot was an oppressive silence leaden with words unsaid. That is, at least, until Rainbow Dash went and said them. “You think it was something we did?” she asked no one in particular.

No one in particular had an immediate answer for her.

“I mean,” she continued, never having been one to put up with silence when she could fill it with words. “Not me, obviously. I’m the loyalest pony around. But maybe, if I’m the loyalest pony, shouldn’t I have, I dunno… been around for some of it?”

The train tick-tick-tacked rhythmically along the tracks, and the silence returned.

“Shucks, RD,” Applejack finally spoke up, scratching the back of her neck with one hoof. “Ah’m the one who went and wrote the princess behind Twilight’s back; that’s when it ended fer us. Ah don’t suppose that was what you’d call bein’ honest-like, either… let alone how it all went down that day on the farm. Shoot, Ah still feel bad about that.”

“Wait, you did what? You wrote Celestia? When?” Twilight asked, and then dropped her face onto one hoof. “No, stop. It doesn’t matter—we’re not doing this. We’re not going to ascribe blame to each of us for failing to live up to our elements when we don’t have any idea what really happened.”

“Oh, we’re not?” said a timid voice from the other side of the cabin. Fluttershy actually managed to sound disappointed. “But I was a little snippy with the new mailstallion yesterday, it was probably me that—”

“No!” Twilight insisted with a bit more bite than she intended. She took a quick moment to calm herself, and to her ongoing surprise and relief, it actually worked. “Being an element of harmony has never been about being the best, most pure exemplar of a trait. If it was, then I would never have been given the element of magic,” she reasoned in an even, sedate tone. “And besides, if anyone here is to blame, it’s probably me, considering I tried to talk the ephemeral manifestation of two dead gods into committing suicide the night before last.”

A dead silence quickly returned to the cabin as everypony present stopped and stared—everypony except for Rarity, that is. The normally prim and composed fashionista was squirming nervously in her seat, holding her mouth shut by chewing on her bottom lip.

“Rarity?” Fluttershy prompted, barely breaking the silence.

Anyone who was paying attention—and they all were—could have counted down to the exact moment when Rarity cracked. “I own half of Ponyville and have been using that fact to spy on my friends!” she finally shouted for all to hear.

The silence continued as if uninterrupted.

“Sorry Twi,” Applejack said. “Ah think Rare’s gotcha beat, here.”

Rainbow Dash didn’t agree. “Really?” she remarked, showing doubt. “I mean, who cares how much of the ground a pony owns? I wanna hear about dead gods.”

“Ground ponies care!” Applejack retorted. “No, wait, Ah mean the spying thing. That’s the problem.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Oh please, like anypony cares how many trees you buck. If you were a pegasus, you’d realize that watching people is boring.”

“Um, I don’t see how owning land results in spying… if you don’t mind my asking,” Fluttershy managed to say.

“You know, that’s a good point,” Twilight observed, tapping her chin with a hoof, not really bothered by the admission, all things considered. Her standards of measure when it came to ownership and privacy in particular were not what they once were. “Rarity?”

Rarity chewed her bottom lip in a rather unladylike manner. “It’s not my fault!” she cried. “You had to go and get drunk at my restaurant!”

“Oh, is that all?” Twilight said, dismissal in her voice. She certainly could have done without Rarity knowing about her pseudo-date with Luna and all of the I-told-you-so’s it would bring, but at this point, they were probably inevitable anyway. “Wait, you own the Goldenrod?”

“Wait, you got drunk without me?” Rainbow Dash interrupted, not even giving Rarity a chance to answer. “I mean—without us?”

Twilight let out a huff of indignation. “I got drunk with Luna,” she clarified.

“No you didn’t,” Luna insisted, injecting herself into the conversation as she and a bedraggled but smiling Pinkie Pie returned with snacks in tow.

Twilight shook her head for show, even as her eyes were drawn to Luna in a smile. “Fine,” she said, chuckling, and corrected herself. “I got tipsy with Luna. Welcome back, by the way, we were just debating whose petty failures are to blame for this.”

“Ah,” Luna responded, though understanding evaded her. “You seem to be taking it well, at least. I can personally attest to the fact that the elements of harmony do not object to the bearers getting inebriated, let alone merely ‘tipsy,’ as you call it.”

“Tipsy?” Rarity remarked, hoof to her chest in shock. “You had three bottles of wine between you!”

“Luna, on the other hoof, did get drunk,” Twilight said matter-of-factly.

“Little bit,” Luna allowed, holding her hooves so that they were almost touching as she passed out paper plates of cakes, cookies and other confections.

Rainbow Dash was beside herself. “You got drunk with the princess?” she wailed, gesturing wildly with her hooves. “That is so not fair!”

“And how exactly does that concern you?” Applejack drawled sarcastically.

Rainbow Dash let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, come on—introducing Sparkles to alcohol? A chance to go out drinking with royalty? Those are, like, once in a lifetime things!”

“Well, now you are having cake with me,” Luna offered, levitating a plate of strawberry shortcake over to her. “And a foreign head of state from Libraropolis too.”

Applejack blinked. “Libra-what, now?”

“Please, Luna,” Twilight chided, taking her own plate without waiting for it to be levitated to her. Nopony else had ordered pancakes with blueberries and whipped cream, after all. “I do have a title, you know. If you’re going to refer to me in an official capacity, I am Archlibrian Twilight Sparkle.”

Luna bowed to her in mock ceremony and said, “Of course, Your Highness,” before reclaiming her seat next to Twilight.

“Look, girls,” Twilight said, diverting her attention from Luna out of self consciousness. “We’ve bickered before. We’ve disagreed, argued, neglected and even fought with each other, because that’s what friends do. It sounds counter-intuitive, and maybe it kind of is, but we wouldn’t be the friends we are if we weren’t all different ponies with different opinions helping each other to expand our horizons.”

Fluttershy let out a whisper of a sigh. “Is that harmony, though?” she asked.

Twilight could only shrug. “Maybe not,” she said, quite honestly. “But if it isn’t, then maybe it isn’t even a bad thing. I’d rather have friends that I actually interact with than be some platonic ideal of harmony.”

“Look, Sparkles, about that—and about earlier,” Rainbow Dash said, cutting in. “You’re cool and all, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather actually stay platonic.”

Twilight stared at Rainbow Dash. She just… stared. Then, hoof met face.

“This and that’re different things, Dash,” Applejack mumbled loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Also, this really ain’t the time.”

“Moving right along…” Twilight said, doing her best to ignore that little aside. “I don’t think that’s what happened in any case. No matter what any of us have done, I don’t think any of it comes close to Celestia’s—” she stopped to glance apologetically at Luna, “—or rather, the mutual betrayal that broke the bonds of the Elements of Harmony the first time. I’m sure that something else must have happened; maybe not even anything bad. What if the elements just found new bearers?”

Rarity’s face suddenly lit up in surprise. “Why, they might have even gone back to Celestia and Luna now that their bond has been repaired!”

“Ah…” Twilight glanced at Luna out of the corner of her eye, uncertain from what she’d heard on both sides if that particular bond would ever return to what it once was. “Yeah, maybe,” she said, taking care not to ruin the optimistic tone.

“Anyway,” Twilight said, hoping to leave it at that and change the subject. “I’m sorry we didn’t invite you out drinking, Dash, but it was really just a nice, quiet dinner. Given how court went last night, it’s safe to say that Luna and I won’t be walking the same line as Celestia, and you can rest assured that imbibing wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime experience for either of us. We’ll try to include you sometime in the future. Maybe not the very next time, but sometime.”

“Yeah, well…” Rainbow Dash said, rubbing the back of her neck with one hoof. “That’d be cool, thanks,” she said, though after a moment, she added, “Wait, why not next time?”

Oops. “That’s private,” Twilight insisted, not at all conspicuously.

“What, you have plans, already?” Rainbow Dash groused. “Wait, don’t answer that. You’re Twilight Sparkle—of course you have plans.”

“Uh, Twi?” Applejack, said, seeing a chance to get a word in. “What did you mean, ‘after the way court went?’ Did something happen? An’ what was that a while back about you bein’ an ‘archlibrarian?’”

Twilight blinked. “You don’t know?” she asked, blindsided. Then again… “Of course you don’t,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, look, here’s what’s been going on…”

✶ ✶ ✶

Responses to Twilight’s tale were… subdued, though not for any lack of engagement on the part of her audience. Applejack was grateful to finally be getting the whole story, and Rainbow Dash thoroughly enjoyed listening to Twilight describe how she had roughed up Emberstoke to get his attention. Rarity and Fluttershy, on the other hoof, were somewhat less enthusiastic—the former disappointed that she knew more about what went on in Twilight’s palace than Twilight herself did, and the latter appearing to be conflicted about the fates of the starbeasts that Twilight had ‘consumed.’

Pinkie Pie, for her part, slept through the entire thing—a fact which Twilight was grateful for, as it was difficult enough avoiding the subject of the alicorns of Utopia when faced with a Rarity who smells gossip, a Rainbow Dash that smells a story, an Applejack that smells a lie and a Fluttershy who could be almost as eerily perceptive as Pinkie Pie.

Not having to worry about Pinkie Pie’s ability to stumble onto the truth wasn’t the only reason Twilight was glad to see her resting, though. Frankly, Pinkie Pie needed it.

“How is Pinkie Pie doing?” Twilight asked Luna, having finally found a moment to slip away from the group. It hadn’t been difficult, to be honest. The others were not far behind their typically-energetic friend, Applejack being the only one who stubbornly refused to so much as rest her eyes.

Luna pressed her lips together and gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. “She is ‘doing,’ I believe you would say. In spite of what happened with Fluttershy, I would actually say that it is she who has been most strongly affected by the loss of her element. She reminds me of myself, actually, as I, too, once wielded the element of laughter, alongside generosity and magic. Between losing them when I called upon the stars for power and then losing the stars to the elements, I have spent a lot of time reevaluating my… myself, and she will likely have to do the same.”

“That’s… okay, though, right?” Twilight asked. “I mean, you haven’t lost your laughter.”

Luna shifted uncomfortably. “Haven’t I?” she asked, but her characteristic melancholy was nothing new to Twilight.

“I saw it in you on that one Nightmare Night,” Twilight said, giving Luna a nudge with her shoulder. “And I can’t see Celestia doing the whole maniacal laugh thing even if she were ever to go evil,” she joked. “You certainly didn’t lose it to me. I’d be a pretty lousy element of laughter, I think.”

Luna shook her head. “You can make me smile,” letting a hint of that very thing cross her face. “I should think that to be a standing ovation in comparative terms.”

“You’re the only one, I think,” Twilight said, much more used to being the straight mare amongst her friends. That gave her a thought, though. “Wait; laughter, generosity and magic? That’s really how they were divided between you?”

Luna cocked her head to the side in question. “You said yourself, that being an Element of Harmony is not necessarily about being the exemplar of the ideal you represent. Generosity should not come as any surprise, and I believe you and I were not so different in the role of friendship.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “That makes sense. Celestia… she’s very friendly, sure, but it just comes naturally to her—it’s not something she really notices, so I’m not surprised. It’s actually not you at all, just—if you were Laughter, Generosity and Magic, that makes her Loyalty, Kindness and honesty?”

Luna pulled her head back to look at Twilight. “You find her to be dishonest?”

“Well, no,” Twilight said with hesitation, trying to come up with a way to explain. “But it’s like you said last night—she doesn’t even let anypony see her drink. She’s a politician and a teacher. When a pony gets to see a part of the real Celestia, it’s because she’s taken it out to show them, not because she let them in. As her student, she’s shown me a lot, but that time when I revealed my wings in the bath was the first time I’d ever seen her so unguarded. I just wouldn’t say that she’s a very open pony.”

Luna let out a sigh and lowered her head somberly. “She was not always thus,” she said, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment as she remembered a Celestia that Twilight had never met. “It is true that she has never been a social drinker, but that does not mean that she never had company. There was a time when she and I were as close as sisters could be, and there was nothing that we didn’t share with each other. Circumstances change, however, and they change us as well.”

Twilight tried to picture it. “I don’t know if I can imagine Pinkie Pie ever not being… Pinkie Pie.”

“Of that, there is no fear,” Luna said with a chuckle. “As you say, I have not truly lost my laughter, though I find it hard to express more often than not, these days. A pony… resonates with their element, but they are not defined by it. While it would not be entirely correct to say that the loss is purely physical, neither is it correct to think that your friends have lost the qualities that were iconic to them.”

Twilight let a little hope slip into her voice. “So, this shouldn’t change them, then, right?”

“That remains to be seen, but such a thing is up to them—and you. The loss that they have suffered has not done them irreparable harm, but the matter of how they deal with this loss… that may define them for some time.”

✶ ✶ ✶

The train from Ponyville took several hours of winding up and around the mountains that made up the Unicorn Range in order to not only cover the distance, but ascend the sheer height required to reach the city of Canterlot, perched precariously as it was on the side of its titular mountain spire. By the time Twilight and the rest of her retinue were able to step off the train and stretch, the city was a welcome sight indeed.

The city, on the other hoof, might not have entirely agreed.

While a collective advisory body known as the Libraropolean Librarocracy had been mentioned to Twilight in the past, the only members of it that she had actually met were her four heralds who had come pre-enstated along with her government. In fact, they, along with their four royal-guard counterparts on loan from Equestria, were the only dedicated Libraropolean officials she knew of who were not library staff.

In hindsight, she probably should have known better than to bring the entire Libraropolean military and ruling class with her on her trip to Canterlot.

“Libraropolis is on the march!” a stallion cried out, gripping a mare beside him with his hooves and shaking her. “Libraropolis is on the march! The Libraropoleans are at the gate!”

The mare shook him off, and looked all about for the invading nationals. Her gaze passed over Twilight and her group several times. “What gate?” she asked in panic. “Canterlot doesn’t have a gate!”

“Gate thirteen—Canterlot Central Station!” the stallion said, gesturing behind himself only to start in shock as he, at least, realized who was standing with them in the street. “They have disembarked!” he announced at the top of his lungs. “I repeat—they have disembarked!”

Another stallion across the street balked at this news. “You mean they’ve seized the train system now, too?” he asked, grabbing hold of his hat as if it were in danger of fleeing without him. “How will we evacuate? Can nothing stop this bloody tide of conquest?”

Twilight attempted to tune out the various sensationalist remarks, though the camera flashes were a little much. After the first few flashes, she started taking breaks to briefly demanifest her eyes into stars and back in order to remove the spots from her vision. When some enterprising paparazzo managed to take a picture in the middle of her doing so, however, she decided that she’d rather live with the vision impairment for the moment than have too many pictures like that floating around. “This sort of thing doesn’t surprise me any more in Ponyville, but somehow, I expected better of Canterlot.”

“Your Majesty, might I remind you that the War of Books took place in Canterlot Castle?” herald number three ventured to point out.

Twilight grunted her acknowledgement. “Point, but the Royal Guards haven’t had good leadership for a generation or two, and they mostly just stand around in the halls. These ponies—” she said, gesturing to the crowd which was half standing dumbstruck and half running about in panic, “—actually have to live in the real world.”

Heralds one and two looked at each other. “Canterlot society,” number one said. “Is not exactly the real world,” number two finished.

Twilight took a breath and looked out across the scene she was standing in the middle of, giving several of the paparazzi an excellent serious, dramatic-looking photo. “Alright, but—hey, wait—my parents live here! I lived here!”

All of her heralds looked at her. None of them said anything.

Almost as if it could tell it was being insulted, the mood of the crowd shifted more and more to focus not on Twilight, but her heralds. “Oh no—look—it’s the four horsemares of Libraropolis!” somepony shouted, drawing the attention of almost everypony looked. “Due Date!” somepony cried, pointing at herald four. “Citation Index!” another voice came, and another, “Serial Lexicon!” and another, “Incunabula!” It wasn’t long before the din of panic died out into a grave-like hush.

Rude,” herald one—the one they had referred to as Incunabula—remarked sourly.

“Those aren’t their names!” Twilight shouted back, shaking her hoof in anger, after which she turned back to whisper at her heralds. “Those aren’t your names, right?”

“Technically,” herald number three offered, raising her hoof in a tentative gesture. “Those are our names.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, sulking. “Can I still call you—”

“Of course you can, Your Majesty.”

☼ ☼ ☼

‘The Chapel’ was the unfortunate name—at least, in Celestia’s opinion—which had been given to Canterlot’s largest astronomical observatory. Once, the headquarters of the Equestrian Guild of Astronomy had fit inside its massive stature like nests of mice in the walls; now, it was all but abandoned. New telescopes were being developed that could track the drifting stars, and they were being built in Ponyville, where the night was darkest. That was fine, though. Celestia wasn’t here to look at the night.

Even in the middle of the day, Celestia found the massive, empty space rather eerie. There was no dust or dirt, for it had not been abandoned long, and the building itself was designed to guard against such things, yet reams of paper covered in hoofwritten charts remained draped over desks and tables as if the ponies working on them had stepped out for coffee one day and simply forgotten about them.

Ponies didn’t just walk away and forget the work that they had spent years on, though. The reality of the matter, for what it was, was even more melancholy. No, those charts and graphs had not been forgotten, but discarded. They were obsolete. Eventually, someone with the Canterlot Archives would come and collect them so that they could be stored for posterity’s sake. ‘This is what the sky used to look like,’ they would one day tell foals in school. ‘Before the alicorn of the stars was returned to us, they sat dead in the sky, joyless and unmoving.’

Was that what she was? Sullen and static—a relic of the past?

Celestia took the smith’s hammer she had procured from the royal armory in hoof and used it to smash the delicate array of viewing lenses off the narrow end of the telescope, revealing a cold, black hole. She then lit her horn and used her magic to wrench open the great shutters that made up the dome above, opening the building and its telescope to the sunlight for the first time since its construction. The gears groaned and whined, some popped ajar and others were stripped, but Celestia had eyes only for the hoof’s-width of burning white light that grew brighter and brighter on the cold stone floor.

No, she was not obsolete. Far from being a relic, she was a mare driven to industry. She had a life to save and the means to do so. For once in her immortal existence, she didn’t have the time to wait—to delegate and watch the world align to her designs. She had to get up and make it happen with hammer in hoof and the sun as her forge.

It felt good.

✶ ✶ ✶

Luna, who had stayed behind to wake the remaining ex-bearers of the elements of harmony, joined up with Twilight and the Libraropolean forces soon after the crowd had been dispersed. “Did something happen?” she asked, glancing from one party to the other.

“Nothing important,” Twilight answered and gave a huff.

Luna considered this for a moment and chose to rephrase her question. “Did something happen that I am going to read about in the papers tomorrow?”

“Of course not, Luna; don’t be ridiculous,” Twilight scoffed. “You don’t read the papers any more than I do. That’s what Rarity is for—paying attention to gossip and owning half of our city. Um, no offense, Rarity.”

Rarity gave a polite cough as she steadied herself against the nearest solid structure—Applejack, in this case. “Of course, dear, though you really should pay a teensy bit more attention to the goings on around you. You may have everypony off-balance for now, but they shall be able to make things rather difficult for you in time, should you incite them to do so.”

“Hey now—don’t go blaming me for this!” Twilight responded, raising a hoof in objection. “They were calling my heralds names!”

Rarity gave the heralds a lookover; they seemed no worse for wear than they were at any other time. “Were these names, perhaps, the ones penned on their birth certificates?”

“Unless one of them has the middle name ‘Abigail’ for some strange reason, then… probably,” Twilight reluctantly admitted.

Sensing that the conversation was going nowhere, Luna chose to intervene in order to get matters back on track. “So long as no international incidents have been committed, then I imagine that we can continue this conversation on the way to the palace,” she said, motioning for Twilight to lead the way.

Twilight didn’t move. “Actually…” she said, pawing at the ground with one hoof.

“Oh, Twilight…” Luna remarked, lowering her face into one hoof.

Twilight’s cheeks colored a bit. “No, no, it’s fine!” she insisted and looked over her shoulder. “We’re just… waiting!”

“Waiting?” Fluttershy asked, rather curious. “Waiting for what?”

The question was soon answered by the appearance of row after row of royal guards marching down the street.

“Twilight, why do we have a military escort?”

✶ ✶ ✶

The Canterlot Royal Guard made sure that the Libraropoleans—and by extension, the ex-bearers of the elements of harmony—were given a wide berth. Rather surprisingly, not many of them seemed to actually mind.

“This is nice,” Fluttershy commented as they walked down what could have been a back street back in Ponyville if not for the golden architecture and scores of seemingly identical white stallions. The architecture was pleasant all the same, though, and the stallions very skilled at seeming to be a part of it.

Applejack was the only one who voiced any dissent. “Seems a mite ridiculous, if’n ya ask me,” she said, shifting her eyes back and forth as if she didn’t trust the not-actually-empty streets.

“You didn’t see how Ponyville acted at first, Applejack,” Twilight said, her pleasant smile wilting a bit at the memory, but only briefly. “Yours… wasn’t the worst reaction.”

“Yes it was,” Applejack insisted in a flat deadpan.

Twilight sighed and kicked a rock that had been stuck between two cobbles in the street. “Yes, it was,” she agreed without argument. “But at least you treated me like a pony. An evil pony, yes, but a pony. You didn’t just stand there and stare. I thought that I’d just wait it out, and that ponies would get used to me again—and they have, a little—but what I didn’t expect was that while I waited for them to change… I might change.”

“I can understand,” Rarity interjected, “how after all this craziness, day in and day out, you might simply get inured to it all. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in that so long as you have somepony—or someponies—to help keep you grounded, though, hmm?”

Twilight took a deep breath and gave Applejack a wary look out of the corner of her eye. “It’s not really that simple, Rarity. I wish it was. It’s ego, plain and simple, and it’s… It is necessary. It’s the frame of mind to say, ‘Yes, I am more important than you,’ and… to believe it—even if it’s everything ponies hate about the aristocracy.”

Applejack blinked and looked around at all of the eyes on her. “Huh? What is everypony looking at me fer?”

“Well, dear,” Rarity offered as delicately as possible. “You haven’t exactly kept your opinions on the upper class a secret.”

To Rarity’s displeasure, she got a dismissive snort in response. “Is that what ya’ll think?” Applejack said, giving Rarity half of an incredulous look and saving the other half for Twilight herself. “Shoot—Ah ain’t never said a bad word against Princess Celestia, have Ah? Truth is, she is more important than the rest of us. Ah ain’t gonna hold that against her, and Ah certainly ain’t gonna hold it against Twilight.”

Twilight’s ears flattened as she frowned at that sentiment. “Wh—that’s not what I mean!” she sputtered. “I’m not more important than you! I mean, objectively, I am, but I actually care what you think and—wait, that sounds wrong, too.”

Luna chuckled. “Do you recall what I told you during Winter Wrap-up about the aristocracy, Twilight, and what makes a true leader?”

Twilight nodded, and Luna nodded in turn.

“There is no shame to being the rock that changes the course of a stream simply by refusing to move,” Luna assured her. “You will change it regardless. Neither does it mean you need never move, as that, too, is your prerogative.”

“I guess,” Twilight said, still not comfortable with the correlation. “I’ve just never had to defend my self-worth from scores of ponies that suddenly care what I do and where I go.”

“Shucks, Twi,” Applejack remarked. “That ain’t even part of bein’ a goddess—that’s just standin’ up fer yerself.”

Twilight couldn’t quite agree. “It’s different,” she grumbled. “A normal pony can try to be unobtrusive; they can follow and do what they’re told. Luna and I—we… can’t, and it really is a different way of thinking to make sense of that. It’s a responsibility that you can’t and shouldn’t just ignore, but at the same time, you can’t let it restrict you either. Like I said, it’s… a necessary ego.”

“Ah can hardly imagine what it must be like so Ah’ll take yer word fer it,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “If anyone deserves to take a little pride in her fellow pony, it’s you, Twilight. If Ah understood it right, none of us’d even have cutie marks if it weren’t for you.” She paused to consider that for a moment. “Ah suppose it’d cut down on the tribalism, though. Just ponies… can you imagine it?”

“I’d rather not,” Twilight responded with a sour grimace. “I haven’t looked into what it was like in the Dragon Empires, but Utopia… really didn’t live up to the name.”

Rarity perked up at the mention of the iconically-named city. “You were rather vague on that when you were telling us about it, darling,” she said, sidling up to walk closer beside Twilight. “Oh, I would just love to hear about the sort of fashions of a lost civilization.”

“Robes, Rarity,” Twilight said, hating to nip her enthusiasm in the bud, but without much choice. It was not as pleasant a subject as Rarity imagined. “Uniform white robes that made ponies blend into the clouds like they weren’t even there, all for the sake of a tyrant who could take the light from your eyes and the fire from your heart if she felt like it.”

Rarity looked like she’d tasted something bitter. “Surely it wasn’t always like that?”

“No, you’re right, and I’m sorry for being so sour about it,” Twilight said, her head drooping. “Utopia stood for thousands of years, and I’m sure the ponies there had a kind of happiness. It just seems unsettling to me after suffering through the worst it had to offer and seeing where it all led.”

Before she even realized Luna had moved, Twilight felt a dark wing settle over her. “If it truly burdens you so, then I hope that you will share this burden with me sooner rather than later, Twilight. Don’t put it off.”

“I know, I… Tonight—I promise,” Twilight assured her, though her words lacked conviction.

Luna gave a strong, curt nod. “I shall hold you to that.”

✶ ✶ ✶

The group left their military escort behind at the gates of canterlot castle, and the Libaropoleans split off to check up on the changeover of the Canterlot Archives soon after, leaving Twilight, Luna and the ex-bearers of the elements of harmony alone to traverse the empty halls of the castle in search of answers. They came across no servants, and not a single pony showed up to ask them their business. Barring the option of shouting for help, all present agreed that the sensible thing to do was to first check on the vault containing the elements of harmony. This meant more walking, as they were situated deep in the castle.

As they walked, Twilight was reminded how long it had been since she had spent any real length of time here in the castle. Her recent visits, such as they were, had all been short, hurried affairs harried by an undercurrent of unease—first the fear accompanying her own awakening and then Gemini’s. Come to think of it, she couldn’t actually recall when she’d last been here simply for the enjoyment of it rather than some crisis or ceremony.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that current matters were entirely pleasant either.

Still, old Castle Canterlot was a far cry from the Ponyville Palace and held no small amount of nostalgia for her. She’d pretty much grown up in these halls, though they had been rather warmer, to her recollection, and a sight less… empty. Such was the way of nostalgia and the boundless energy of youth, though, she supposed. To a young filly, full of dreams and wonder and being chased after by any number of servants and handmaidens, life here had seemed so much like a story out of a fairytale.

Again, she had to remind herself that her life had never actually lost that fairytale quality. No, it had only become more incredible and incredulous; she’d simply forgotten that fairytales—the original ones—were a lot more twisted and dark than those ponies had grown to expect.

She’d made it through that darkness, though. The secrets she’d inherited were out in the open, now, where they could no longer fester and rot… or so she hoped. Twilight herself may have had nothing to hide anymore—nor reason to dwell when she could be thinking of Luna—but she was hardly alone in the world, and her secrets hadn’t been entirely her own.

It made her wonder.

“The way you brought it up so casually,” Twilight said, breaking the companionable silence with a glance at Applejack. “It really doesn’t bother you that I’m responsible for pony magic?”

Applejack managed to shrug without breaking stride. “Naw, why would it?”

“Well, if it were me, I know I’d be pretty upset if you told me my magic was somepony else’s. Even if that pony was Celestia, it’d be… really hard to hear.” She paused as she realized just how little right she had to complain after recent revelations. No matter how bad the fairytale of reality was, it would have been even worse if the alicorn of the stars had been somepony else. “And it’s not a goddess thing either,” she added.

“Hmm… yeah,” Applejack said, tapping her hoof to her chin in thought. “Ah can see that.”

“It’s not a goddess thing, but it is a Twilight Sparkle thing,” Rainbow Dash remarked with a smirk.

“What?” Twilight said, craning her neck to look at the unusually ground-bound pegasus. “Why would I be any different?”

“Look, Sparkles,” Rainbow Dash said, angling herself to walk next to Twilight. “It’s like this. If you waved your hoof and took my cutie mark away—”

“But I—” Twilight blurted out, but her interruption was, itself, interrupted.

“I know you wouldn’t, because you’re awesome like that, but if you did, what would you get out of it?” Rainbow Dash asked, puffing out her chest in an effort to make herself look more hale and hearty than she felt.

“Well, your star, obviously,” Twilight said, almost to herself. “All your magic, and the star’s memories of your life up to that point.”

“Last day of junior flight school,” Rainbow Dash said out of the blue, and Twilight had to stop to parse what she was saying. “When I’m gone, watch that one. That was a pretty great date. Day, I mean.”

“Please don’t,” Fluttershy whimpered.

Twilight found her mouth hanging open, and clapped it shut. “Did you have a point, Rainbow?”

“Oh, right!” she said, and picked up right where she’d left off without missing a beat. “You take my magic, what is it to you? It’s just magic; just a star. It doesn’t make you the fastest in Equestria, does it? I mean, aside from the fact that maybe I’m dead at this point and if the next couple generations of pegasi suck, they might lose to a freaking goddess, but anyway—it doesn’t make you me, or even give you my talent, does it?”

Suddenly, Twilight saw where Rainbow Dash was going with this. “No. No, it doesn’t,” she said.

Rainbow Dash nodded. “To me, magic is just the fuel that lets me do what only I can do,” she said, and then looked over to Twilight. “You, though. You are magic. It is what you do—so yeah, you’d probably be pretty pissed if it wasn’t really yours.”

If she was trying to cheer Twilight up, she failed. “I’m hardly the only pony with a talent for magic, though,” she said, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Rainbow Dash gave a careless shrug. “There probably are some ponies out there who started drinking last night and haven’t stopped yet cause you ruined their lives. Maybe less than you think, since those kinds of ponies aren’t really the bar-hopping type, but still—tough cookies. Sucks to be them.”

Twilight just gaped at her. “Was there supposed to be an uplifting message there?” she asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“I think what the darling is attempting to say,” Rarity interjected with a polite cough and a harsh glance at Rainbow Dash. “Is that the vast majority of ponies do not think of magic in the same way you do, Twilight. Even unicorns like yourself who have cutie marks in magic are not necessarily like yourself. Equestria has not had a grand mage since the renaissance era; it takes a special kind of pony to truly dedicate themselves to it in the same way you have, which, I daresay, is why Princess Celestia chose you to be her student.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not that unique. Celestia has had other students.”

“And how many of them showed any real ambition, hmm?” Rarity asked, rhetorically. “I’ll tell you, darling—not a one. The position is looked upon by the nobility with an envy that I’m not sure you’re aware of, and yet those who fill it all fade into obscurity soon after they reach adulthood, if not before.”

“You make it sound as if I’m Celestia’s only success,” Twilight said, her frown deepening.

Rarity gave a polite laugh. “In the eyes of politics and history, maybe, but I think she’d be a poor mentor if those were her goals. Before you were so suddenly graced with wings, where were you? I’ll tell you; you were precisely where you wanted to be. No—not a reclusive mage inhabiting Canterlot’s highest tower, but where you needed to be in order to be happy. Most of the Princess’ students find themselves in exactly such a situation; comfortable and living exactly the life that they find fulfilling. Only for you did that mean continuing to study magic with nary a goal but mastery. If the jealousy which you’ve already admitted to is not a result of your goddesshood, then I should think there is a good chance that it was the other way around.”

“Rarity,” Twilight said, unable to resist a pained sigh. “I can see where you’re trying to go with this, but there are whole institutions here in Canterlot full of ponies just like me who just never had the chance or reason to catch the princess’ eye. They dedicate their lives to studying magic, researching the foundations of the world we live in and developing the spells that I study. The sentiment is appreciated, but I’m not the be-all-end-all unicorn, let alone alicorn, when it comes to magic.”

Twilight was certain that she’d refuted the point admirably, but Rarity’s knowing smile didn’t falter.

“What?” Twilight said, uneasy as the suspicion that she was missing something grew. “Why are you giving me that look?”

It was Fluttershy of all ponies who chose to answer. “What Rarity means is… don’t you think that’s a different kind of studying, Twilight? I don’t think anypony in academia would get jealous over magic if they knew where it came from. Which I guess they do, now… oh dear. I think… I think I might need to move further out into the country if Ponyville gets any bigger. I wonder if it’ll be okay for Harry if I get a houseboat…”

“Look, Twi,” Applejack continued in the wake of Fluttershy’s distraction. “There ain’t no way we can tell you that there’s nopony who’s been put out by this, but neither can anypony say that you didn’t deserve it—if’n you didn’t have it from the start—and all the bellyaching in the world ain’t gonna put that cider back in the barrel.”

“I know,” Twilight said, sounding rather sour about it. “I know. It’s just… you girls are too nice. Really, really too nice. I’m glad you don’t hold it against me, but you don’t need to try and tell me nopony is going to hate me for it. I know how to deal with that—I do—but that doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it.”

Twilight only vaguely noticed that Luna frowned and remained silent while the conversation continued without her.

“That you think so only shows that you are the right pony for the job,” Rarity said, doing her best to encourage Twilight against her will. “Of course, should you ever think that you are being too egotistical, surely there is room for a little compromise, hrm?”

Twilight’s begrudging reassurance died on her lips as she finally realized what it was that was really bothering her about the way things had been going.

“Twilight?” Rarity prompted, uncertain if the silence was intentional.

“I don’t know that there is, Rarity,” she said cryptically. “As far as keeping ponies from abusing my position, sure, but…”

Rarity cocked her head to the side in question. “There is something more to it? Were you not just professing not to care about what ponies think you should do?”

“Ponies, yes,” Twilight said with a darkening scowl. “But no matter how I own up to the mantle as alicorn of the stars, there’s still the fact that I’m… I am literally a broken goddess. I’ve been doing fine since I found out what I am—my sense of identity is stronger than ever—but I’ve been doing it by hardening up. I’m not sure if anything else it an option.”

Fluttershy let out a small whimper. “And if you fail…”

“It’s what we think truly changed Luna when she became Nightmare Moon,” Twilight told them in a melancholy tone. “I don’t think there’s any danger of me becoming quite like that, but there is a possibility that if I let myself be too unguarded, another pony like Star Glister could lose more than their star.”

“Wait-wait-wait-wait,” Rainbow Dash said, swooping in front of Twilight. “What do you mean, the stars were responsible for Nightmare Moon? Nightmare Moon was a parasite that possessed the Princess, right? Or dark magic that twisted her personality… right?”

Twilight gave Luna a glance, silently asking if she should explain for her. Luna shook her head and took a breath. “For all my immortal life, I had thought the stars to be a part of me. I decorated the sky with them and wore them in my mane like jewels, thinking them a fine crown of laurels to celebrate my divinity. I was wrong. Had I known just how wrong I was, I believe that I would have treated them with a great deal more respect and… perhaps even anticipation for what was to come.

“Blind to my sleeping sister as I was, however, I did not recognize that the power which answered my call on that final night a thousand years ago. I thought it to be a hidden darkness inside my mind, and I treated it as such. Taking the stars into myself granted me a certain fluidity of thought—a lense through which I saw a darkness I could bring to bear against my sister. I realize now that this darkness was a shadow of my own devising, but the power which the stars provided me with was very real, and with it I was able to challenge Celestia on equal terms for the first time in my life.

“If I am to be entirely honest with myself, I believe the novelty of that alone would have brought the two of us to blows eventually, even in the absence of any other mania. Twilight is right that the effect that the stars have on her is worthy of concern, but you needn’t worry that they are a corrupting influence on her. I will not let her bear the shame for that nightmare when it lies solely on mine own shoulders.”

Rarity glanced about at the others before taking a moment to clear her throat. “You understand that that is… quite the different story than the public believes, Your Majesty.”

Luna scoffed, seemingly shedding the nobility of her previous speech in an instant. “I shall not deny the guilt I bear for the actions I took as Nightmare Moon, but neither am I foolish enough to be quite so open about it with the rabble rousers and vipers of the media. Few are the ponies who actually deserve such candor, and most of them are walking alongside me at this moment.

“I have also extended my personal hoof in apology to the Royal Guards whom I harmed upon my return, but the rest…” The uneasy frown that Luna had been wearing earlier returned. “It is as Twilight says. Disregarding them is a sad reality of the position. Publicizing the truth of the matter would help nopony save those who would take advantage of the situation, and I owe them nothing more than a few hours of sunlight that they’d like as not have slept through on any other day.”

“What about us?” Rainbow Dash asked rather rudely.

Luna craned her neck to look at her. “What about you?” she asked.

Rainbow Dash cantered ahead so that she could face Luna. “How come this is the first time we’re hearing about it?”

“I am unsure that I understand your grievance, Rainbow Dash,” Luna said, sounding honestly confused at the accusation. “Did I not levy profuse apologies for my actions upon all present immediately after being freed me from the stars’ influence? The events of that morning were as busy as they were harried, but I am certain that you were among the very first to whom I apologized.”

Rainbow Dash’s mouth hung open for a brief moment before she redoubled her inquiry. “Well, yeah, you apologized,” she said, leaning emphasis on the final word. “But we all thought that was the guilt talking.”

“It was,” Luna stated rather matter-of-factly. “I regret my actions incredibly, and shall live with the guilt of them for some time.”

Rainbow Dash looked like she was trying to decide if Luna was screwing with her. “I mean we thought you were just feeling guilty for things that weren’t your fault!”

Luna simply shook her head. “It was not my intent to mislead you, Rainbow Dash,” she said.

Rainbow Dash was persistent. “But—”

“Dash, let it go,” Twilight interrupted, finally putting her hoof down. “You know that communicating has been difficult for Luna since she came back. As it is, she’s going to have to be the calm and gentle one of us if all I can manage is to be the iron hoof or a mad mare, so please don’t antagonize her.”

“Ugh, fiiiiiiine,” Rainbow Dash whined. She turned to apologize to Luna, but the alicorn of the moon had suddenly stopped walking.

“Wait, I am to be what?”

☼ ☼ ☼

At first, Celestia’s idea to create a body for Harmony had seemed to be a reasonable one. If the alicorn was bleeding magic into the world nearly as fast as it was generating it—and it was—then the obvious answer was to build something that could contain that magic. It quickly became clear, however, that creating a functional body and containing Harmony’s magic were two different things, and of the two, the latter was most important.

It followed logically that Celestia’s first attempt was more of a shell than a body and resembled a medieval torture device rather than a vessel fit for an alicorn. It was made of gold and jewels, yes, but the gilded material only gave it an even more macabre atmosphere.

This heavy, equine shell, Celestia had forged using only the light of the sun and her own magic. The result was a metal known as ponythium. Similar to the moonstone which Luna had created for the Ponyville Palace, this material was the closest thing to a manifest body that Celestia could provide.

She wasted hours creating the shell before her mistake was revealed.

It wasn’t common knowledge, but Celestia and her sister each had a magic that was unique from that of ponykind. This was why Celestia had chosen gold in the first place. Gold was compatible with her magic, and, given the appearance of the elements of harmony, it seemed to be an affinity that Harmony shared.

She wasn’t wrong in thinking so, yet her attempt to use it to save Harmony had almost ruined everything. Twisted pieces of golden metal littered the floor of the observatory, ripped apart by Celestia’s desperate, shaking hooves.

It was bad enough that her magic had nearly suffocated the one that she’d been trying to save, but what truly disturbed her was the terrible revelation that followed; something she would never be able to forget no matter how long she lived.

She now knew how to kill a god.

✶ ✶ ✶

“Oh no,” Twilight said under her breath as the group came into view of the vault that had once held the elements of harmony. The vault doors were hanging open, and the vault itself was empty. “No, no, no, no, no!”

The entire group galloped down the hall, including the ex-bearers of the elements of harmony who had been flagging from their unnatural exhaustion. No amount of belated haste could change the truth, though—the elements were gone.

“I don’t understand,” Twilight said. “If something happened, then Celestia should have sent a message through Spike—unless she couldn’t? Oh no…”

Luna shook her head. “Calm thyself, Twilight. The newspapers did say that she held court earlier today, long after this must have happened. Either she does not know, or she chose not to inform us. Normally, I would assume the latter, but these halls are far emptier than they should be.”

“The whole thing is empty, but there ain’t a scratch on the door,” Applejack summarized, exiting the vault after a quick search. “Ah don’t suppose you can tell anything more, Yer Highness?”

Luna gave the large golden doors an appraising look then took a step forward and ran a hoof along the center, where there was a gap for an alicorn-sized horn. “Indeed I can, Applejack,” she said as she wandered in past Applejack, dragging her hoof first across the length of the door and then the wall as she went. “There is no trace whatsoever of the numerous powerful wards that once protected this vault.”

“What does that mean?” Fluttershy asked with a small quiver as she poked her head around the door, not daring to enter.

With a heaving grunt, Luna turned and gave the wall of the vault a solid buck, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the marble. “It means,” she said as she made her way back to the vault doors, stopping to shake the gravel off her hooves after a few steps. “Firstly, that Celestia did not simply remove the elements from the vault herself, and second, that the wards were faced with an source of magic which was strong enough to destroy them, yet has not damaged the vault in any physical manner whatsoever.”

“Also,” Twilight said, raising her hoof weakly to attract attention. “Since there’s no lasting sign, it’s probably been at least twelve hours since the event.”

Luna gave Twilight an acknowledging nod and considered the possibilities. “I am afraid that I know of no power capable of such a thing. Even my sister’s magic would reduce this wing of the castle to slag before the vault could be breached.”

“Now hold on,” Applejack interrupted. “Didn’t Discord break in here without raising so much as a peep?”

Twilight shook her head. “Discord cheated,” she said rather reluctantly, not really wanting to get into the subject. “The wards were still untouched when Celestia opened the vault to give us the elements. My best guess is that he went around them somehow—and no, it doesn’t actually make any more sense when you understand how magic works. Actually, I’m pretty sure it makes less.”

“Well, how does that help us?” Rarity asked, keeping the conversation going.

Unfortunately, the topic of Discord had soured Twilight’s mood. “It doesn’t,” she said, and that was the end of it.

“So, what? That’s it?” Rainbow Dash said, sounding almost as cross as Twilight.

Luna let out a sigh. “It does seem that we have run out of things this vault can tell us. I would offer reassurance that hope remains for your elements to be returned to you, but the chance that it will be a simple matter dwindles.”

“Luna,” Twilight said as she looked around at her friends and attempted to judge their condition. “Can you try and find Celestia and figure out what happened here?”

Luna nodded and said, “Certainly—are you not coming?”

Twilight shook her head. “There’s no need for all of us to go running around the grounds when you can give them a quick flyover and find Celestia or somepony that knows where she is. I’m going to take the others to a guest room so they can rest, and… there’s something I want to talk to them about in case there really isn’t anything that can be done.”

“You have a solution?” Luna asked, curious.

“I just might.”

✶ ✶ ✶

The general emptiness of Canterlot Castle was a double-edged sword when it came to accommodating the ex-bearers of the elements of harmony. Finding an open room was foal’s play, but ordering room service proved unreasonably challenging. In the end, Twilight had had to leave her friends and run down to the kitchens to light a fire under the servant’s rears.

As the only two cooks in the kitchen had explained it to her, Celestia’s display had crushed the morale of the royal guards. With their embarrassment during the War of Books being so recent, there was a growing sentiment that the guard itself was useless. Half of them had quit on the spot, and the other half were sulking. Worse, with the royal guard all but on strike, the nobility claimed they didn’t feel safe coming to the castle, though it was more likely that they were just insulted by the lack of anyone to make them feel important. Of course, with the castle all but empty, only a few servants were needed, and half of the servants that were supposed to be on duty were scared of Celestia.

In other words, the whole thing was a huge mess, most of the Equestrian government was run by cowards, and tea would be along in five or ten minutes.

Twilight was well aware that calling ponies cowards for being irrationally afraid of Celestia was entirely hypocritical, but neither could she really deny the facts as they stood before her. It had to be instinctual, and if it was, then were the stars making it better or worse? If she really was going to go through with her solution, she hoped that it was the former, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it before she reached the room where her friends were waiting.

“The good news is, somepony in the castle is actually aware that we’re here now,” Twilight announced as she closed the door behind herself. “The bad news is, they’re not quite afraid enough of Celestia to keep track of her every move. Nopony has seen her for hours.”

Rarity tsked. “Disgraceful, honestly,” she chided from where she and rest of the group sat on cushions around a small gilded rosewood table. “But that is Princess Luna’s task at the moment, is it not? You mentioned that you have a… proposal for the rest of us?”

Twilight’s shoulders sank as she took her place between Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash at the table. “It’s a possibility,” she said, not wanting to get their hopes up. “One that poses a risk of changing who you are, but should be reversible, if it comes to that.”

“Well, if that ain’t ominous,” Applejack mumbled.

Rainbow Dash’s wings fluttered as a shiver ran up her spine. “I like who I am,” she declared with pride, and then deflated. “But it’s a little late for that. This thing you want to do, it’d make it so we’re not tired all the time?”

“Your body only thinks it’s tired,” Twilight said, making an effort to phrase her explanation right. “I know it’s not much of a consolation right now, but since it is a form of magic withdrawal, you would probably adjust eventually. You also… might not. Your body will settle on some combination of restoring the emptiness to its original condition and trying to fill it with magic, and since everypony is different, it’s possible the two won’t ever meet in the middle.”

Applejack crossed her forelegs across her chest and leaned back. “That don’t answer the question, though, Twilight. What are you saying you can do about it?”

Twilight let out a heavy breath. “Remember that we’re talking about magic withdrawal, here—magic that you wouldn’t even have if not for the star inside each of you. That star is very much like the element of harmony you used to bear and sits now at the center of that vast emptiness you feel. It doesn’t have to be alone. The void inside of you… I can fill it.”

“With stars?” Applejack asked rhetorically.

Twilight gave a serious nod. “I’ve already done it once, when I gave Star Glister back his star. The only concern is what effect it would have on you.”

“What, like maybe it’d make us all alicorns?” Rainbow Dash asked, raising one eyebrow.

That seemed to get some attention, as ponies at the table all looked at each other, imagining it. Sadly, Twilight had to nip that one in the bud. “No, you already all have stars, and aren’t alicorns; it’s almost certain that I’m made of stars because I’m an alicorn—not vice versa. What I’m worried about is the memories that stars contain. You shouldn’t have access to them, or ponies would be born with the memories of their precursors, except… some ponies do claim to have memories of past lives, and even if you don’t remember anything, who’s to say there isn’t an unconscious effect?”

“Woah,” Applejack muttered. “That ain’t an easy decision t’make. ’Specially if it might not even be needed.”

One pony, however, didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it,” she said, the statement being so out of the blue that it took Twilight a moment to realize who had even spoken.

“Pinkie Pie?” Twilight asked. In hindsight, the response wasn’t surprising outside of the fact that she hadn’t spoken at all during the entire trip. “Very well, then. I suppose the only question is… what, or rather, whose stars would you like to have?

☼ ☼ ☼

Though Celestia’s first attempt had nearly ended terribly, she refused to let it stop her. She understood, now, that though her magic shared an affinity for gold with that of Harmony, one could not replace the other. The only magic she could use to make Harmony a body was that of Harmony itself.

She just had to figure out how to do that.

She started by digging a hole. She burned a tunnel deep into the heart of Mount Canterlot, far from the influence of the sun. At the bottom of this tunnel, she formed a chamber and lined it with alternating rings of gold and ponythium. From what had happened the night before at the vault, she knew that no amount of Harmony’s magic would melt the gold, but the right shape would still draw it along like oil up a wick.

It was tedious work, and for the longest time it almost seemed futile, but Celestia knew better; she knew that under the right conditions she could make it work. Eventually, with dusk nearing, she finally managed it. A tiny shining thread of life spun from nothing—not gold, but pure manifest magic.

At first, Celestia was alone in shaping the body that was to become Harmony, but once the process was started, it soon took on a mind of its own. She used only the lightest touch of magic to sculpt and mold, while the thread filled in the gaps with filigree of impossible detail on its own. Gears sprung up like weeds in tangled designs that Celestia had no hoof in, and it wasn’t long before she realized her part was over—that it was time to simply step back and let nature take its course.

As layer upon layer of mesh and plate covered strut and pivot and a long golden horn sprouted from the figure’s head, a multihued rainbow glow coalesced around the equine form and was quickly covered with each new plate. Soon, the structure that Celestia had spent so long refining grew dark, starved of the magic it was built to direct. The last length of thread fell from the wheel… but the assemblage of golden gears continued to grow unabated.

How long the entire process took, Celestia couldn’t say. She was so fascinated by every stage of the process—from wire tendons to the final regal, sculpted art deco physique—that she felt a pang of disappointment when the process finally began to die down.

When the last gear had settled in place, and the last wire tightened and tuned, a deathly still silence returned to the small chamber which Celestia had wrought. It lasted for a single heartbeat before a tinny click echoed through the small space, followed by a barely audible whirring as two eyes—intelligent, seeing eyes that were literally cut from the finest of emeralds—cracked open to look up at Celestia. Recognition blossomed.

“You. I know you. You are… anathema.”

Author's Note: