The Moon Also Rises

by Nicroburst

Fifteen

I am your fears and your hopes. I am your dreams and your nightmares. I am the best of you, and the worst.

For it is only in the extremes that we can survive the heights of our passion. We persevered within my protection, under my shroud of night. When you had burnt away your fears, and lost the will to act, consumed your hope and succumbed to despair, I was there.

Fifteen

“WHAT'S GOING ON, RARE'?” Applejack asked, looking at the mountain beside her. The trembling had stopped, thankfully, though it left them with questions.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Twilight’s not back yet,” Pinkie observed solemnly.

“Is this . . .”

“Oh, Celestia, I hope not. I really do.” Rarity turned to Pinkie with a strained smile. “Dear, do you think you could fetch us some hot drinks. I’m afraid Twilight won’t be joining us.”

Applejack nodded, heading back inside, as Pinkie moved to the kitchen. Rarity remained for a moment, staring up at Canterlot. If Luna was up there . . .

“I guess Rainbow won’t be coming either,” Fluttershy said. She was standing next to Rarity, face upturned. Rarity had rarely seen her so intense, wearing a kind of quiet focus that enveloped the pegasus, and held her still. Rarity shivered in the breeze, then turned, moving back into the warmth of Sugarcube Corner.

Pinkie had already returned from the kitchen with five mugs balanced on her tail. Rarity could see marshmallows poking out over the rims, bobbing with each movement of Pinkie’s tail. She grasped a mug in magic, bringing it before her and taking a long gulp of the hot chocolate. Its fire spread through her body quickly, warming her, reassuring her.

“Ahem,” she began, gathering her friend’s attention. Pinkie had already finished her first mug, though Applejack had pushed hers away. “I . . . I don’t know why Canterlot is shaking. Whatever it is that’s doing that, it must be powerful.”

“The Princess is up there, Rares. Ah don’t think we need to worry about it.”

“Both of them are,” Rarity whispered. “That’s the problem.”

“What did you See, Rarity?” Fluttershy asked softly.

“I Saw Luna, crossing back over the Equestrian border. I Saw Celestia there, waiting for her.”

“What’s wrong?” Pinkie Pie, this time, leaning towards her with a worried face.

In truth, Luna’s return should have been cause for celebration, not this sort of clandestine meeting. But Rarity was out of her depth. She hadn’t the experience or inclination to handle something like this. She’d been counting on Twilight to take it off her hooves.

“Are you sure? This will become your burden as well,” Rarity said, looking at each of them in turn. There was no hesitation, each one of them nodding.

“Tell us.”

“This morning, I . . . found enough motivation to check for Luna. Twilight’s asked me to do what I can, keeping an eye out against her eventual return, and while I wasn’t really thinking to find anything, I kept looking anyway.

“How can I describe Sight? It is like searching through a bank of fog, thick and heavy, so that you cannot easily find your way. All around you pass shrouded figures. No matter how you look at them, they remain indistinct, blurred, somehow. They are all the ponies, past, present, and future, that have or will have moved through the place I am standing.

“Then there are the ones I know. Those I have a personal connection to, some knowledge of. They stand out, clearer, shining with some sort of light. They become as beacons for me to follow through the mist. The better I know somepony, the clearer their vision becomes, and the further I may follow it, through time and space.

“When I moved to the border, I expected to find nothing, just like every other time. Instead, there was a blinding light, like the sun itself, resplendent and powerful; Celestia, standing before the blank face of the Equestrian border. Nopony ever crosses it.

“And then, as I waited, there was a disturbance, a ripple, through the air, like a hole in the fabric of space. Through it I Saw Luna.”

***

Luna pushed her way through the barrier quickly, uncomfortable by the tingle it left over her. Once through, it disappeared quickly, but during, it was a deep itch, an uncomfortable feeling, like rough cloth being pulled across her hide. It permeated her, leaving her out of breath, just for a moment.

Awaiting her was her sister, standing tall on the plain. Celestia was radiant, her coat glowing in the morning sun, mane billowing in an endless wave. But where Luna had once looked to find support, a caring, loving visage, instead she found shock. She could see it, written plainly across Celestia’s face, in the flattened ears and slightly open mouth, in the tightness of her cheeks and the slight, every-so-slight widening of her eyes.

Even after all these years, Luna could read her sister. And Celestia was not happy to see her.

“’Tia!” Luna cried, reaching out to embrace her. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Luna?” Celestia asked, stressing the name as she apprehensively returned Luna’s hold.

“Of course ‘tis I. Who else might I be?”

“Luna.” Now she could hear the warmth of the sun creeping back into her voice, a relief that was mingled with sorrow. She felt the strength of Celestia’s hold intensify, felt herself pulled forward as her sister clutched her tightly. “Wherever have you been?!”

“Hmm? Yonder, over there,” Luna said. “It was but a small matter, sister. What has thou so concerned? The evidence of it ‘tis plainly written on thine face.”

“Your speech . . . Luna, what do you remember of the last ten years?”

“Years? Sister, I have been absent for but three weeks. Surely ‘tis been no longer.”

“Ten years, Luna. Ten years, believing . . . I don’t even know what.” Celestia buried her face in Luna’s mane. The touch seemed oddly submissive, reversed from what she remembered of her cleansing. Luna tucked her chin down, nuzzling her distraught sister.

“Hey. Hey, now. Calm thyself, sister. I am here, now, though t’would seem mine recollection serves me differently.”

Celestia snapped her head upwards. “What were you doing, Luna?! What took so long?!”

“I was . . . I . . . I do not know. ‘Tis strange, for it seems that I should know, but mine memory dances on the side, and I cannot grasp it firmly.”

“You don’t remember?!”

“’Tis worrying, yes.”

Celestia glanced over her shoulder, shaking her head, before turning her attention back to Luna.

“What about before? Before you left?”

Luna cocked her head, gazing at Celestia. “I fear I do not understand the thrust of thine questioning. I recall all, save for the last, small, while. It is still 1006, is it not?”

“No, Luna, it isn’t. It’s been sixteen years since you came back, sixteen years since the Elements of Harmony cleansed you. Ten years ago you left, crossing the border and vanishing. Nopony knew where you’d gone, Luna, or what you were doing! Now I find that . . . something has corrupted you!”

“’Tia . . . ‘tis I. I return to you not tainted, but pure. Thou helped me throw aside the shackles of jealousy. Dost thou not recall that?”

“Untainted?! What do you call that?!”

What? For the first time, Luna glanced down at herself. Her mane appeared correct, its star-specked hue billowing in an ethereal wind. Her body felt right, felt normal, but where once she had stood nearly Celestia’s equal, now she reached a height above that of her sister. And, adorning her chest like it had always belonged there, was armour. It wrapped around her, encasing her in its protection, in its cage. Luna flicked her ears, feeling the cold metal against her fur. There was no denying it, it was the regalia of Nightmare Moon.

***

“Do you remember Nightmare Moon’s eyes? The thin slits—draconian, I believe, though I’m not the expert. And her mane, tendrils twisting and spiralling around her body? Luna had none of that. She didn’t stand as Nightmare Moon did, did not look down on Celestia, or speak maliciously.

“But she remembers nothing of her absence, and she wore the armour. Girls . . . I’ve never seen Celestia so upset. It was frightening.”

There was a long silence following the end of Rarity’s account, as each pony thought about what they’d heard.

“Ah think we need Twilight.”

“Yes, that was my thought as well, dear. Of course, there isn’t much point in going up to Canterlot after her; she’s more likely to return here when she gets that letter.”

“Ah still think Twilight was involved in that tremor we felt earlier.

“Probably Luna, too,” Pinkie offered. Despite Rarity’s story, she wore a wide smile. “Between the two of them, it’ll be cleared up in no time!”

“Would Luna have had enough time to get back to the city?”

“If she was rushing back, certainly,” Rarity said. “I don’t know what to do here. That tremor . . . I could have waited too long already.”

“That isn't your fault.” Fluttershy’s voice was firm, quashing any objections Rarity might have raised. “It took time to gather us all together, and only together we can be of use.”

“That’s as may be, dear, but I’m no longer sure we’ll be needed at all. Pinkie’s right. Twilight’s up there, and she can handle anything.”

“Even Nightmare Moon?” Applejack said.

“Who would you fancy? Her, against Celestia and Twilight together?”

“. . . Point.”

“Then this doesn’t change anything. We know Luna’s back. Until we hear from the city, that's enough for me” Pinkie said. Fluttershy smiled at her friend, always so optimistic. Still Pinkie had a point. What sense was there is getting all worked up, when it was just as likely cause for celebration?

“Yes, though I'd rather refrain from looking myself. Fluttershy?” Rarity asked, drawing Fluttershy's attention

She nodded. “I’ll check tonight.”

“Then we should meet back here in the morning,” Rarity concluded, taking a deep breath, and rolling her shoulders.

Fluttershy could see the tension melting off her friend. Meeting Pinkie's eyes as Rarity bid them farewell, she exchanged a small smile, glad to have helped assuage Rarity's fears. Even the semblance of a plan could do wonders for ones peace of mind.

Bidding goodnight to Pinkie, she watching her move upstairs to her room over the shop. As she made to leave, following Rarity out the door, Applejack caught her, walking alongside as they headed into the night.

“Listen, Fluttershy . . . did ya mean it?”

“Mean what?’

“What ya said about coming ta Appleloosa with me. Having a pegasus would mean a great deal.”

“Of course,” Fluttershy said, smiling warmly.

“It’s just . . . Ah don’t think Rainbow’s gonna to be available. She’s up there, with Twi’ . . .”

“I understand.”

“Look, Ah might have . . . understated the problem a bit. Rarity already seemed stressed out enough, though Ah’m not quite seeing what the fuss is about.”

At that, Fluttershy frowned. “She’s scared, Applejack. You heard what that barrier did to Luna. On top of which, she’s brought Nightmare Moon’s armour back with her.”

“We've beaten Nightmare Moon before.”

“Have you ever seen Celestia upset?”

Applejack paused, thinking for a second. “She was worried, when Discord was released.”

“I disagree. She was serious, just as she was when Chrysalis attacked. Rarity saw her scared, Applejack—Celestia, scared. It’s one thing to hear about that second-hand . . .”

“And another entirely to see yourself,” Applejack finished. She nodded, Fluttershy’s words seeming to get through. In truth, Fluttershy herself was scared. Deep inside, where she’s learned to hide it, she quailed at the thought of confronting something that had given pause to the Princess herself. But she would suppress it, control it, for Rarity.

“Where are you staying?” Applejack asked suddenly. Fluttershy paused, realising that without meaning to, her hooves had taken her in the direction of her old cottage. Applejack saw her face, saw where she was looking.

“It’s closed up, Flutters. Years back, now. Come on, you can stay with me. We’ll need to leave, in the morning, unless something changes.”

“Okay.”

Fluttershy followed Applejack docilely, content to let her lead. It had, after all, been a tiring trip, and she was looking forward to some sleep.

There was no special process Fluttershy went through to prepare herself for Dreaming. She had never been taught explicitly how to use her powers, despite Twilight’s attempts at understanding, so instead she relied on instinct, simply following the flow wherever it took her.

For Twilight, or Rarity, that would have been impossible. Unicorns required direct control, an intent to accompany their magic. For Fluttershy, magic lead her, coming as naturally as her emotions it used.

That said, she didn’t want to Dream every night. Over the years, Fluttershy had found that she could encourage her visions by focusing on her fears and her hopes before she went to sleep. She could find worry for the future, and comfort in its approach, and in doing so, direct her efforts somewhat. But there was no telling what vision she would have, save that it was her future, or her past.

Sometimes she would Dream without wishing to. Often, she found she could not Dream despite all her efforts. But tonight, she fell into sleep easily, and within moments awoke in the future.

Fluttershy opened her eyes to a vision of ruin. Before her lay a town, Appleloosa, laid out almost exactly as she had seen it before. The train station, there, and over there the post office. Fluttershy began to walk, moving past the general store and sheriff’s lockup. She didn’t have a destination, but when she looked in front of herself, she saw the town hall.

Something was wrong. No ponies had greeted her during her arrival, in fact there was no movement around the town at all. Fluttershy peered through several windows, trying to find those living here, but she couldn’t see anypony. Further, their personal belongings were scattered, food left on the table, slowly rotting and gathering flies.

Returning to the street, Fluttershy cast a more critical eye over her surroundings. The evidence, all around her; rotten wood and rusted metal, houses barely standing and a curious sense of doom, hanging over the town like a small bank of storm-clouds, ready to unleash their wrath. Appleloosa had been hollowed out, the empty shell of a town remaining broken into pieces once the inhabitants had fled. Fluttershy hadn’t missed it before, because it hadn’t been there, before. Everywhere she turned, she saw the destruction of the town, so pristine when she’d first arrived, accelerate.

Was this the outcome of their visit to Appleloosa? Were they doomed to fail, then, or in their aid doom the town? Perhaps they were already too late, and they would arrive to find themselves lost, here, in this ghost of a town. Applejack had said the problem was worse than she’d told them.

There were far too many interpretations. Rarity had told her that the future was malleable, that it could be stitched together, woven, by skilled hooves, with the right touch, at the right time. That was why she could never see far into the future, for the myriad of paths they might take obscured her vision.

When Fluttershy Dreamt, she saw but one possibility. Saw it, nay, experienced it with a clarity that made it seem real. But it was not fate, and just the knowledge of what could happen here gave her the strength to fight it.

Beside her, she found Applejack. The earth pony was staring around the town in horror, still taking in the broken shell. She looked older, much older—she had lines on her face and a stumble in her step.

“Come, Applejack,” Fluttershy said, leading her back the way they’d come. “This is not Appleloosa, not anymore. We must find them.”

They walked for what seemed hours, though Fluttershy knew, somewhere in her mind, that it had been but moments. She had found tracks in the desert, tracks that faded from view the second she saw them, sand blown over them by the growing wind.

Abruptly, they were in a settlement, a roving group of ponies, nomadic in nature. They looked weary beyond belief as they unhitched themselves from their wagons, a few smaller ponies clambering out and helping to set up the camp.

Meagre supplies of food were brought out; a few dried apples and potatoes, distributed sparsely among the small population. Others began half-heartedly digging at the ground for water. With how hard the ground had become, baked and split clay, like rock, Fluttershy doubted they would have any success.

Applejack was sitting in an old chair, staring out at the dying sun. She looked old, now, very old. Several ponies came to her, offering her thin potato soup. Fluttershy could hear the tiny crick of in her jaw as she ate, gumming through the hard chunks.

Looking around, Fluttershy saw a small one, talking excitedly with another, and gesturing at Applejack. He was an earth pony of the same colouration as Braeburn, a soft yellow coat accentuated by rich orange hair and sparkling green eyes.

These were the remnants of the Appleloosans, Fluttershy realised. Cast out of their town, they had chosen to wander the wilderness and the desert. She approached the small foal, who turned to face her with wide eyes, apprehensive under his enthusiasm.

Except he wasn’t turning to her; he couldn’t see her. Nopony could—she wasn’t here, not really. It was just a Dream.

“Macoun!” a voice called from behind her. Approaching hoof-steps signalled the arrival of an adult. The foal’s—Macoun’s—friend scampered off, raising a clatter of noise and earning himself shouts from other groups of ponies.

The adult was stocky, though gaunt, with a deep brown coat and the same vibrant eyes. Fluttershy choked back a sob at the sight; to her, he resembled the entire, desperate situation. That stance, so full of sorrow, and his eyes, mournful in the sight of innocence, spoke more to her than anything else she’d seen.

“Macoun, there ya are. Come, son, we must help the others.”

“Do we gotta?”

“Ya know we do. An Apple’s work ain’t ever done.”

“But Dad . . .”

“No buts! Come, Macoun. Look to ya name with pride, for you are the last to wear it. Ah will not live ta see our matron all disapproving or our name in tatters, even if we are ta be the only ones ta see it!”

Fluttershy woke in a cold sweat, the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Quietly, she rose, moving to the window and looking out at the first glimmers of the sun poking over the horizon.

***

Applejack woke early, just before the rising of the sun, as was normal for her. Fluttershy probably wouldn’t wake for hours to come, so instead of disturbing the pegasus, she made her way to the kitchen.

Whistling idly, Applejack set about making some breakfast; a healthy helping of pancakes, specked with apples, toast, some turnovers from yesterday and apple juice. She made sure to leave plenty out for Applebloom and Big Macintosh, and on second thought, Fluttershy as well.

After eating, she stepped out into the yard, stretching her limbs to wake them up. She’d be leaving today, but there were still a few things she could do to help the farm run smoothly in her absence.

Applejack headed over to the barn. She’d been putting off cleaning it for some time now, but it needed doing, and was a small enough task that she could have it handled by the time Fluttershy woke. Applejack figured that was about the right time to head into town.

Opening the door, she made a face at the mess. They’d brought the pigs inside a few days ago, sheltering them from the storm, and they’d left more than a few tokens of appreciation. The entire bed of hay would need replacing, most of the tools needed to be dismantled and cleaned, hell, the entire barn could use a wash.

Gritting her teeth, Applejack walked in, careful to watch her step. Reaching the back wall, she felt along its surface, searching for a particular spot . . . there. She picked up the hose in her mouth and twisted, turning the water on.

It had been designed and built by Applebloom during a sulk about how boring cleaning it out had been. Instead of requiring a laborious process of emptying everything, washing and cleaning, then restocking, Applebloom had placed a tap at the back of the barn, attaching it to . . . something. Applejack didn’t pretend to understand how it worked, but she was more than happy to use it.

Water shot out of the nozzle with a strength that would have knocked anypony save her and her brother flat on their backs. That was the main reason this wasn’t more widespread—Applebloom had said that the high pressure required to efficiently clean the walls and push everything loose towards the doors—which now swung open so that the barn had, in effect, three walls—would be too strong for most.

In the end, while it no longer took hours to perform the chore, it could no longer be done by Applebloom with anywhere near the same efficiency, which was, Applejack reflected, probably what she’d been going for.

She was in the loft, kicking the last of the bundles of hay down to spread over the floor when Fluttershy poked her head in.

“Uhm, Applejack?” she inquired, calling from where she stood.

“How’d you sleep?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “We need to go, now.”

“What’s the matter,” Applejack said, pausing. The bale hit the ground with a thump.

“I . . . had a Dream. It was about Appleloosa. I think something terrible is going to happen.

Applejack frowned, jumping down from the loft and landing with a thump beside the hay bale. “How bad was it?”

Fluttershy just shook her head again.

“Okay . . . we’ll have to tell Rarity, and the others,” she began, heading to the door. As she approached, Fluttershy suddenly flung herself forward, enveloping Applejack in a hug.

“Whoa there.”

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy choked out, between sobs. When had she started crying? “I’m so sorry.”

“That bad, huh?” she said, patting Fluttershy on the back.

“Mhmm.”

“Save your tears, Fluttershy,” Applejack untangled herself, setting Fluttershy back on the ground. “And let’s go do something about it.”

But they didn’t find Rarity in her house, or at Sugarcube Corner, and they knew better than to check Twilight’s house. Even if she was there, they couldn’t disturb her. Leaving a message, and a farewell with Pinkie, they made their way to the station, quickly purchasing two tickets.

The next train left in an hour, so they settled in to wait. As they sat down, Applejack turned to Fluttershy. The mare was still quiet, though she seemed to be past the shock and sorrow. She sat with a kind of silent determination; back straight and eyes intent.

“Do ya wanna tell me about it?”

And as Applejack listened, Fluttershy began.

***

Pinkie knocked three times on the door to the library. She wasn’t sure why she chose to knock three times. It wasn’t as if three knocks was a kind of signature, a calling card that it was, in fact, Pinkie Pie knocking. Perhaps it should be.

No. She shuddered, imagining all those doors in town, growing so bored of the repetitive three knocks. She imagined the mark it would leave on her, relegated from spontaneity to predictability. Everypony would know she was coming. How could she surprise anypony that way?

She considered the wooden door before it. Had it learned from her three knocks? Was it, even now, silently judging her for her conformity? Pinkie had seen many ponies knock three times before. Did the door believe her to be merely another of the myriad of ponies that knocked on it?

Perhaps she should knock again. Not a fourth knock, but another, new knock. She reached out, rapping her hoof on the door, just once. That would show it. Indeed, the door looked to be confused now. Pinkie tilted her head, studying the door with an intense, scrutinising gaze.

Unfortunately, before she could glean any new information from the viewpoint, she felt the door open. Indeed, three seconds later it did just that, revealing Spike behind it. He seemed . . . confused. Pinkie righted her head in time to catch him shrugging.

“Pinkie. What can I do for you?” Spike said, letting her in to the library.

“Hi Spike!” Pinkie began. Spike lifted a claw to his face, groaning.

“Not this again. Pinkie, my name is Daerev!”

“You’ll always be Spike to me!” Pinkie replied in a sing-song voice.

“Look, Pinkie, I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. But this is getting ridiculous.”

“Good,” Pinkie asserted, before sobering. “Daerev . . . I don’t like it. It’s dragoney.”

“That’s the point.”

“No, silly, that’s the point.” Pinkie gestured to Spike’s tail. It’s tip, once blunted, was now sharp enough to cut. He chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, retreating to a table and checking a ledger. “Now, what did you need? I’m afraid the set of cookbooks you ordered haven’t arrived yet.”

“Have you heard from Twilight?” Pinkie asked. Even to her ears, her voice had fallen, lost its chirpiness. She noticed she wasn’t bouncing, either, as she stepped forward to press the dragon. “Recently?”

“How recent?” Spike asked with a frown.

“Yesterday, or today.”

“No, not a word, although . . . this is about Canterlot, last night, isn’t it?”

Pinkie nodded mutely.

“I’m sure she’ll send me something soon enough.”

“Yeah, I guess so . . . okie-dokie, thanks Spike!”

Daerev watched her go, bouncing out the door without a worry on her mind. He shook his head slightly, wishing he could deal with his problems that easily. To just accept that something would shake out eventually, and set it aside until it did . . . that took some serious mental gymnastics.

As much as he would have liked to find out more about what was happening up in Canterlot, he had to trust Twilight. By the time he got up there, it would probably be over anyway.

He made his own way out of the library, locking the door behind him. He couldn’t do anything about it himself, nor could he learn anything more on his own. But perhaps there was another who could.

While his weekly schedule with Agyrt had been strict, it was never set in stone. He was often required to come at odd times, even the dead of night. Still, last week, Agyrt had requested his presence today, in just an hour’s time. Having a Seer for a teacher was, at times, extremely useful.

At others, it sucked. Still, Daerev couldn’t complain about Agyrt’s interest in him. Over the last ten years he’d learnt so much, been introduced to a whole new world. He’d just begun to scratch the surface, but for the first time in his life, he felt at home.

Not at home, as in where he belonged. He would always be grateful to Twilight and her role in raising him. She had given him a gift more precious than any gem; perspective. And he had never been shunned, or considered out of place.

It was just . . . with Agyrt, with the world of dragons—real dragons—opening up before him, he had realised what he was. He had answered the call in his blood, the cries he had been neglecting. The taste of meat, the cry of nature, the roar of flame and the richness of life . . . at once both exhilarating and fulfilling.

Daerev followed the path through the Forest to Agyrt’s river. At first, Twilight had hovered over him, keeping a watchful eye. But as the path grew more beaten, animals, predator and prey alike, learned to stay away. And now, as he grew, he no longer found the Forest to be frightening.

Arriving at Lethe, Daerev found Agyrt waiting for him. The dragon had moved up onto the bank, resting under the climbing sun.

The physiological differences between himself and his mentor had initially been odd to Daerev, though Agyrt paid them no mind. When he did raise the topic, Agyrt had merely arched an eyebrow—or the area where an eyebrow would have been—and inquired “Am I not a dragon?” He hadn’t had an answer.

Still, Daerev would never be as at home in the water, just as Agyrt could never match him on land.

“I expect you’re here to inquire as to the disturbance last night,” Agyrt said without opening his eyes.

“Yes.”

“The situation has already been resolved. You’ll learn the details when you return to your little village.”

“Very well.”

As difficult as it was, Daerev had learned not to press Agyrt. Any information he was given Agyrt viewed as a gift, not an obligation. If he asked after Twilight, it would be seen as arrogant, presumptuous, and would only serve to convince Agyrt not to share anything more.

Agyrt opened one eye, regarding Daerev. Standing not ten feet away, it was almost as large as his entire body.

“You are worried about Sparkle. Do not fear for her. She will recover.”

“Oh, come on!”

Agyrt rose, slowly, to his feet, towering over Daerev. By the time he reached his full height, he blocked the sun out, casting Daerev and a considerable portion of the Forest into shadow.

“Hard times are coming, Daerev Quitu. Are you ready to face them?”

Daerev swallowed. “I am.”

“You do not look ready,” Agyrt hissed. “I will give you this much; you have a good heart. One day, you will be a fine dragon.”

“Uhh . . . thanks.”

“You may not have the time.” Agyrt turned, moving back into the river. Lazily, he rolled over, exposing his underside to the sun as he floated. “Heed my warning, Daerev, and prepare. Your Princess of the Night has returned, to find a noble leader murdered and blood running in the streets of Canterlot. Comfort your sister, for in the end, all any of us may do is what we feel to be right. This . . . this is just the beginning."

Author's Note:

Notes: Chapter Fifteen