The Moon Also Rises

by Nicroburst

Five

I arrived in the northlands today. The countryside is beautiful, fertile green pastures dotted with small forests and mountain ranges. I took rest on the peak of one such mountain, watching the black clouds slowly growing.

I am running out of time.

Five

LUNA STEPPED FORWARD out of the shadows of the wide doors, flanking and enshrining her advance into the hall. Ahead, her sister was already moving to greet her, expression sorrowful.

Celestia shone like the sun itself, radiant and bright. She exuded magic, an aura hanging around her, charging the air with power. Luna ignored its touch, raising the hairs on her neck. She would no longer be blinded by that false light, nor reflect its glory from the shadows.

“Doth thou now come to comfort me, sister?” Luna said, spitting the words out from between clenched teeth. “Now, at the end of things, thou seeks to repent?”

“Nay, sister,” Celestia replied. “I know why thou hath come. I hath Seen the path thou takes to this moment. We art set in motion, and for the entire world we could not step aside.”

“We desired not the world,” Luna said. “Thou should know, now, how simply thou might have resolved this matter.”

“It is the path not taken, Luna. We cannot change the past.”

“And now we are set ‘gainst one another. I shall not falter, sister. Even the sun must set.”

“I am sorry, Luna. That it came to this.”

“Art thou? Truly?” Luna asked, pulling in shadows from around the room. Coalescing around her body, they resisted the rays of light shining from Celestia, drawing them into an eternal blackness where they dwindled; fading through time and space. “Then thou wouldst repent, and allow us our allotted kingdom.”

“’Tis not mine to give,” Celestia said, summoning to her side a spear of light. Horn bright, she narrowed her eyes, staring at Luna’s incorporeal, shimmering form, seeking to perceive her body amidst the shifting shadows.

“Even now, thou persists,” Luna spat, eyes glowing. “It has been yours, sister, since we took these forms.” Luna blinked, just once, and when her eyes opened, they revealed fanged slits, set against a luminescent blue. She could feel the hate, boiling just under the surface, a hatred born of jealousy, and, perhaps, fear. It was just a sliver, but there nonetheless; a fear of irrelevance, impotence and immortality.

Hatred reached around her torso, clasping her in moonshine silver, an armour of sorts, locking her in place. Slowly, she surrendered to its rage, a burning river that would sweep over all in its path. Her coat changed, subtly turning darker every moment, until it was the black of deep night, no longer warm, but so very cold in the absence of the sun’s warmth.

Celestia flinched. Out of the blackness before her emerged a metamorphosed creature, standing taller than her sister. Neighing loudly, it struck a hoof forward in challenge, igniting its horn.

“Prepare yourself, Celestia, for the day hath come to an end!” the creature said, sending wisps of shadow to block the sunlight filtering down from the high windows of the hall. Plunged into sudden darkness, the creature let out a triumphant laugh, sound echoing around. Celestia couldn’t see where it was, heard it everywhere, all around her.

“Luna . . . what . . . what have thou done?” Celestia whispered, standing still. “Thou gave yourself to this?”

“Luna is gone, sister,” the creature said, from behind Celestia. Instantly, the spear of light plunged into the darkness, seeking it. And although it pierced the shadows, throwing them away in disarray, it found nothing but empty air and the hard stone of the floor.

“So blind,” it whispered, this time in front of her. Again, her light found nothing. “So helpless. What art thou, lacking the sun thou so depends on? Pray, what happens to light when the darkness chooses not to give way before it, but to envelop?”

Celestia dispelled her spear, taking in the light that formed it. Body glowing, she expelled it in a single wave, emanating in all directions. For a moment, she saw. Saw by the light, again flowing to her, the creature, standing alone at the end of the hall. It quickly recovered, again throwing the blackness around the room like a shield.

“What hath thou done with it, Celestia?” it asked. “Where hath thou left it?”

“It is all around us, fiend. It is in the air and the water, the earth and the stone. It is in the bodies of our ponies, and their minds, and their hearts.”

“Nay, not ours, yours. But no longer.”

Celestia felt a sudden burning on her flank. Spinning around, she shook loose the tendril of shadow that had latched onto her. She winced, magic already repairing the wound. But the creature laughed, a roiling, rolling sound, deafening and horrid.

“Enough,” Celestia said, drawing herself up. “Wilt thou return my sister to me?”

“Thou defeat is inevitable, Celestia. Thou cannot hope to stand against the night.”

“Then I am sorry. Do you hear me, Luna?” Celestia said. “I am sorry.”

For the third time, the creature laughed, with mirth alive in its voice. It was a laugh afraid of nothing, confident and complete, reminding Celestia of what might have been.

“Thou knows my name, creature of night,” Celestia said, “but what shalt I call thee in posterity?”

The creature paused, then spoke. “I am thy nightmare. I am thy fear, under the midnight moon. I am the blackness of thy heart and the whispers in the darkest of nights. Call me Nightmare Moon, sister, for that is my nature and my soul!”

Celestia reached out. The blackness wasn’t there, not really. It existed only in the mind, only as a manifestation of this creature’s power. She reached past it, and it ceased to matter.

She reached into the sky, into the mirth of the wind and the joy of flight. She reached into the land, amidst rock, dirt and the ever-flowing embrace of life. She reached into the stone, constant and solid, ever-vigilant and enduring. She reached into her subjects, into the bodies of the ponies who toiled under the sun. She reached into their minds, the hidden places of their lives, where they knew others, and held them together. She reached into their hearts, where they knew themselves, and became individuals as one.

From these places she gathered power, a denial and an affirmation. Nature, in its purest form, distilled from the world around her, a Harmony of sorts. She turned that power on Nightmare Moon, shadows withering under the ball of light on the end of Celestia’s horn. In the instant before it vanished completely, she saw the widening of its eyes, saw the realisation of its vulnerability. In isolation it fell, and was bound to the moon for a thousand years.

I am sorry, sister.

I know.

***

“Rarity? It’s me, Twilight! Are you home?”

Rarity groaned and rolled over, throwing the covers off her. Twilight never had learnt the proper hours for visiting. It simply wasn’t right for a lady to be awake so early in the morning.

Quickly checking the clock on the wall, she confirmed her fears. It had just barely hit six, perhaps half an hour following the dawn.

Still, Rarity wasn’t about to tell her to come back later. No matter how early it was, she would conduct herself with decorum, if only in the hope that somepony would learn from her example.

Rarity leaned out of her window, gazing down at Twilight. Sure enough, the mare was bright-eyed and all smiles, with packed saddlebags and no hint that she understood that this was a time for sleeping.

“Goodness, Twilight, whatever is the matter?” Rarity called down to her.

“Just needed some help finding somepony,” Twilight replied.

“Can’t it wait?” Rarity said.

“I hope so.”

Rarity sighed. “I’ll be down in a minute, darling,” she called. “Why don’t you come inside and make yourself comfortable?”

Pulling back from the window, Rarity rubbed her eyes, trying to work out the last of her drowsiness. Yawning, she stepped over to the vanity, absently fixing the few hairs out of place from her rest. What could Twilight need so urgently? Such a cryptic reply, too. Rarity had hoped that that part of the princess wouldn’t rub off on her. She hoped it could wait . . . Twilight didn’t even know if this was urgent!

Rarity stepped over the stairs, stepping down them while tugging on her robe. It was chilly, in the morning, and she still remembered the warmth of her bed. The clothing and a warm cup of tea would be an admirable substitute, though she wouldn’t be going back to sleep afterwards.

Twilight was already sitting in the kitchen, horn alight, concentrating on Rarity’s kettle.

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to do that,” Rarity said, walking over to help.

“Nonsense, Rarity, it’s the least I could do. I thought this would be better over tea, anyway, especially considering the hour,” Twilight said, gesturing towards the table. “Why don’t you get the cups?”

Rarity smiled, collecting the porcelain from various places in the kitchen, setting them out on the table. Twilight carried the kettle over, pouring the boiling water into the teapot. Soon, aromatic steam was rising, filling the room with its warmth.

Rarity curled her fore hooves around her cup, delicately blowing steam off the surface of the liquid before taking a sip.

“Now then, Twilight, who did you want to find,” she said, leaning forward.

“You’re not going to like this,” Twilight said, taking a deep breath. “It’s Trixie.”

Rarity paused in the act of sipping her tea, carefully placing the cup back on the table and enveloping it in a telekinetic field. Her beverage safe, she proceeded to fix her eyes on Twilight and, rising, thumped her hoof down on the table.

“Trixie? Of all the egotistical, arrogant showboats, you want me to find Trixie!?”

Twilight winced. “I know, I know, Rarity, but it’s important.”

“Important? Important! Was it important to you that that . . . that . . . that ruffian exiled you from the town, Twilight? Was it important that she tried to cause Rainbow agony? She made me bleed!” Rarity said, placing her foreleg against her head and falling backwards. Twilight caught her before she hit the ground, helping Rarity regain her balance.

“Heh . . . thanks.”

“That was a long time ago, Rarity,” Twilight said. “I think she’s in trouble.”

“Good!” Rarity cried. “She’d got it coming to her.”

“Rarity, please,” Twilight said. “It’s partially our fault she’s like this, and . . .”

“Our fault?” Rarity cried. “How is it our fault?”

“We never reached out to her,” Twilight said. “If I’d only asked, at some point . . . She needed us, even then, Rarity, and we failed her. I have to try, now, somehow make it up to her. Please, Rarity. Do it for me.”

“You do understand what you’re asking, Twilight?”

“Yes. And I’m asking.”

“Humph. Very well. But only for you, dear,” Rarity said, placing her empty cup on the table. “Shall we?”

Twilight nodded. “At the Agency, though"

“Well, in that case, I’m going to need some time to get ready.”

“Of course,” Twilight said. “I’ll meet you there in an hour?”

“Two. And you’re buying breakfast,” Rarity said.

“Deal,” Twilight said, smiling. She stood, moving the porcelain to the counter, her own teacup emptied into the sink. Trixie . . . why did Twilight have to bring that mare back into their lives. Rarity sighed, reheating the kettle. It was far too early for this.

***

Trixie walked off the early morning train with her head held high, stepping off the platform and making for the centre of Ponyville. Despite the years, she recognised enough of the landmarks around the town; fountains, parks, and buildings to navigate.

Ponyville had changed a lot, since she’d last visited. They’d removed the statues, for one, though Trixie was glad to see those go. Mementos of a time she would rather forget. Beyond that, the town seemed larger, more populous. She found she was glad to see that they were doing so well. It was a comfort, to realise she’d truly left that part of her life behind.

Yes, yes, touching. But where is Twilight?

She lived in the treehouse when we were here last. I guess we start there.

Trixie could just make out the top of the tree in the distance, right in the middle of town. She moved confidently, but quickly, trying to balance not drawing attention with a hasty pace. Of course, it was unlikely anypony would recognise her at a glance, given how long it had been. But it never hurt to be cautious.

She noticed some ponies giving her hard looks anyway. Trixie tried to ignore them. She did deserve their enmity, after all.

Finally arriving at the treehouse, Trixie gave several short raps on the door. Several steps sounded inside the house, though they were thumps, as if supporting a heavy weight, rather than the rap of a metal horseshoe against wood. She could be bare-hoofed, of course, but still . . . that was a lot of weight.

The door opened, a reptilian claw gripping the frame and a scaled head poked around, mouth already opened to speak.

The dragon. Of course.

“Yes? Can I help you . . .” his voice trailed off as he saw her, eyes taking in the silvery mane and wand on her flank. “Trixie,” he said flatly. “What are you doing back here?”

“I just wanted to talk,” Trixie said. “To Twilight.”

“Ahuh,” the dragon said. “And is that all you want?” He opened the door fully, allowing Trixie to see his bulk. Standing about the height of a pony, he was obviously still immature, but menacing all the same, with thick shoulders and wickedly sharp spines running down his back. He crossed his arms in front of him, standing in the doorway. “So what’s stopping you?”

“She lives here, doesn’t she?” Trixie said. The dragon didn’t move. “Look, I’m sorry we started on the wrong hoof. But I . . . I’ve had some time, away, to think about it, and I wanted to say sorry.”

“To say sorry,” the dragon said. “To Twilight.”

“Well, yes.”

“But not to anyone else?”

“Oh! Uhm, well, what’s your name?” Trixie said, offering him a small smile. The dragon appeared somewhat mollified; relaxing his stance though still hostile, tendrils of smoke curling from each nostril.

“My name? I don’t know. You may call me Daerev.”

“Well then, Daerev, I am sorry. I apologise to you, and to all of Ponyville. My actions were reprehensible, and I deeply regret them,” Trixie said.

“Okay. But Twilight doesn’t live here anymore,” Daerev said.

Trixie frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Daerev said, with a gesture as he turned, leading Trixie inside. “But only because I know that Twilight would annihilate you if you tried anything.”

Heh. Yeah, right.

Daerev pulled a map out from a shelf, unrolling it and spreading it over the table. “Twilight lives over here now, on the east side of town. Big building, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Daerev,” Trixie said. This time, he returned her smile.

Trixie stepped out of the library with a light step. If she could win over the dragon—someone who actually remembered her, and had held something akin to a grudge, perhaps she could make amends.

That’s nice, but remember why we’re here.

Isn’t that part of it, Cumulus; moving on. This place . . . feels important, and I’ve certainly never been here, Brash said.

Trixie ignored them, focusing on the directions she’d gathered from Daerev's map. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far, though it was back across the market. She arrived at Twilight’s home without further incident, though she saw some more faces that she . . . not recognised, not exactly, felt a vague familiarity with. It was still early, and Ponyville was waking up.

Trixie looked up at Twilight’s door, reading the plaque there. A consulting agency, then. She chuckled. She could have hired Twilight to help her, still could, if things didn’t pan out. Composing herself, she stretched a hoof out and rapped on the door, then slowly opened it with her magic.

Inside, she heard two voices, quickly hushing, then hoof-steps, a pony this time, approaching her. The entrance was a dim corridor. What little light there was filtered in from the adjacent rooms, each with curtains pulled shut over the windows. It created an admirable air of mystique, though Trixie was largely unimpressed.

A purple face poked out from the room on the right, framed by a dark mane with pink highlights. Twilight wore it just as Trixie remembered. It was a face burned into her memory, even if other details had faded.

Twilight didn’t seem surprised to see her standing there. Trixie watched as she calmly trotted up to her. She looked . . . secure; older, more balanced, with a wealth of knowledge and experience backing her up. Not the confidence that came with youth, but that which followed age.

“Trixie! A pleasure to see you. What brings you here this day?” Twilight said brightly, reaching forward to shake Trixie’s hoof. She took it, shaking back; taking comfort in the familiarity of the ritual to ease the shock. She’d expected to have to convince Twilight to even hear her out.

“Well, uh, that is . . .” Trixie said. “You see, I was heading through, and I thought I’d visit. You know, stop in for a chat, see how you were . . .”

Twilight giggled. “No, you weren’t. You’ve been in Canterlot. Joe told me all about your little chat with him.”

“W-What? But that was just two days ago? How . . .”

“Coincidence. So, this brother of yours, how is he?”

Trixie paused. Twilight already knew her movements the last few days, and possibly more. “I don’t have a brother. I only said that to make Joe more comfortable talking,” she said, hanging her head.

“I see –“ Twilight began, before another pony stepped out from the room. White coat, purple mane and diamonds for a cutie mark, Trixie vaguely recalled seeing her in magazines across Equestria, some kind of fashion designer. Her name was Rarity, and for some reason she was completely soaked, as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. All except her head, anyway.

“If that’s all, Twilight?” Rarity asked, her mane dripping all over the floor.

“Actually, if you don't mind, you could finish up for the week. Since you’re here, and everything,” Twilight said.

“I suppose, darling. I’ll be another hour, then,” Rarity said, moving back into the room she’d come from.

Twilight focused her attention on Trixie.

“Come in, come in,” she said, leading Trixie into the room on the left. It was an office of sorts, complete with a dark, mahogany desk and large cushy chairs. Twilight pulled the curtains open, throwing light across the carpeted floor, chasing away the shadows.

“So, why are you here?” she began, taking a seat behind the desk. Trixie took her queue to sit in front of it.

“To try to make amends,” Trixie said. Twilight shook her head.

“I don’t buy it,” she said. “You could have done that years ago. “Why now?”

“Because . . .” Trixie said, grasping for a reason. She couldn’t tell the truth. Not all of it, anyway. “Because I read your paper.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“On Mental Magic and the Soul,” Trixie said, quoting from memory. She’d given her notes another look-over on the train down.

Twilight’s eyes seemed far away, gazing at some point in the distance. “That was a long time ago. I thought the only copies were in the Canterlot Archives.”

“Well, they are.”

“Doing some breaking and entering, are we?”

“Just bribes, actually,” Trixie said.

“So that’s why you robbed that store,” Twilight murmured, still lost in thought. Trixie did a double-take, half-raising a hoof.

“You . . . you know about that?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, and your partner, too."

“Wha-“

“But what I’m still confused about,” Twilight said, eyes snapping from their private vista to Trixie, pinning her. “Is why you felt it necessary to get into the Archives and read my paper. What were you looking for?”

“I’m . . . interested, in mental magic. Telepathy, empathic communication, transfer of consciousness. That sort of thing.”

“Well, the first thing you should know is that that paper is rubbish.”

“What?”

“Not worth the scroll it was written on, actually,” Twilight said.

“But . . . but,” Trixie said.

“I know. Annoying, isn’t it? To build theories, then find out your assumptions were false.” Twilight bobbed her head, holding Trixie’s gaze. “But what did you need it for, anyway?”

No turning back, now. She played you, quite thoroughly, too.

Unfortunately, Cumulus was right. Trixie had been off-balance from the start, had already given up too much to give hide anything else. But Twilight hadn’t turned her in for the theft, even though she knew. Surely that meant something, despite the trembling in her legs and pounding of her heart. Trixie had kept this secret tightly, never daring to confide. Trixie took a deep breath, steadying herself, then began.

“Okay. uhm, so, this all happened five years ago, I went home, for the first time in over a decade. I thought it would be . . . nice to catch up with some ponies from my past. There were three of us, me, Brash and Cumulus. We used to cause all sorts of trouble, together at Noble Deed’s Orphanage.”

“You’re an orphan,” Twilight said, leaning forward.

“Yeah,” Trixie replied.

“I’m sorry.”

Trixie frowned. “Don’t be. I’m better off as it is. Anyway, I’m meeting Brash and Cumulus in my old house, and, somehow, a fire breaks out. Next thing I know, they’re on the floor, and I’m trying not to breath in too much smoke. I think a falling beam might have clipped them.”

“So I struggle over to them, nearly unconscious myself, and essentially drape myself over their bodies. Understand, there was no resisting that heat. It was like a giant hoof, pressing down on me,” Trixie said. Twilight nodded slowly, face growing darker with each word. “I pass out like that. When I wake, I’m in the hospital, and they’re dead.”

Twilight clasped her hooves to her mouth, recoiling from the desk. “Oh Celestia, I remember hearing about that fire! I’m so sorry, Trixie. That must have been awful.”

Trixie shook her head. “No, that’s not it. The doctors told me Brash and Cumulus were dead. Bodies charred almost beyond recognition. But I’m lying there, on the bed, with voices screaming in my head—well, one voice, actually—that no, I wasn’t dead, I was right here, can’t you see me, I’m here, oh why can’t you see me?”

Trixie saw it in Twilight’s eyes, understanding dawning, followed by horror. The purple unicorn trembled, hooves clutching at the desk as she tried to steady herself. “Oh, those poor souls. Oh, Celestia!”

“I worked out what had happened, of course, but I stayed quiet. I have no desire to spend my life as their guinea pig.”

“Actually, the princess is very rigid about our adherence to ethical standards in the treatments of patients. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad,” Twilight said, seizing on the detail.

Trixie smiled inwardly. Now who was off-balance? An unintended effect, but useful nonetheless, now she could press. She could be open.

“I’ve come to you because your paper suggested something to me. I thought perhaps you’d know something about this, something about how my friends got in my head, why they’re there, how to get them out.”

“I, ah . . . I’m not sure, maybe?” Twilight said. “You say you hear their voices. How can you be sure they aren’t a hallucination, of sorts?”

“They know things I don’t. They speak in their own voice, built from their own experiences. They can share knowledge, memories, or withhold them from me. They are individuals, as much as we are.”

“Three minds in one body,” Twilight murmured. “I’ve no experience with anything like this. I’m sorry, Trixie, but if you want my help, you’ll need to stay around here for a while.”

Trixie grimaced. “I can’t. I’m . . . busy.”

“Something with your partner in crime?” Twilight guessed.

“Yeah,” Trixie said. “Something like that.”

“Listen, Trixie . . . you don’t need to involve yourself in that,” Twilight said. “You could stay here, cut ties. Live a normal, happy life.” Twilight reached out, grasping Trixie’s fore hoof.

“Look, I’ve been thinking. About the last time you came here, how I acted. And I’m ashamed. I assumed you were a rival, an enemy, and I never tried to get to know you. I never asked why.

“So that’s what I’m doing now, extending the hoof, so to speak. Stay here, in Ponyville, as a friend. We’ll work out what happened in your head; fix it, whatever you want. But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Well, that’s new, Cumulus said.

What a nice mare, Brash offered.

Trixie didn’t know what to think. The offer appealed to a side of her that she hadn’t known since the incident. She still remembered the loneliness of the road; cold nights spent shivering in the dark. But it wasn’t her anymore, she now spent her time in constant company, whether she liked it or not.

But there was Boundless to think of. She’d debated leaving endlessly, back and forth with Cumulus and Brash, only to conclude that her best course of action was to remain with him. He had been useful, and the longer she spent with him, the less choice she’d felt. It was just a feeling, a nagging presence in her mind. She did not know what he would do if she left.

“I . . . I can’t. I’m sorry too, Twilight, for what I did, and I’m . . . thankful for your understanding. But I can’t, at least, not long-term,” Trixie said.

“Why not?” Twilight asked, frowning.

“It’s not that simple. I just can’t,” Trixie said. “But, Twilight, I hope you’ll consider me a friend all the same.”

That got Twilight to smile. “Of course I do, Trixie. I’m glad you came.”

“So am I,” Trixie said, returning her grin.

***

“Fire lives in our hearts. It is at the centre of what we do, it is our very soul, our passion and our life. You wish to learn who you are, youngling, your body and mind, nature and heritage. Such questions cannot be answered by me alone, or in just a few years. But in essence, we are fire.”

The Drac opened his mouth, bathing Spike in blue flame. The fire licked at his body, but never caught grip, reaching around him without grasping. It fell away leaving not a singe.

“We are fire, and we are more than fire. We feel its passion, but we do not succumb to it. We burn it, but we are not burnt by it. We understand fire, youngling. You must learn to understand it as you do yourself, an extension of your body, a claw, or arm.”

“And how do I do that,” Spike said, already knowing the answer. The Drac grinned evilly.

“Practice, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Spike said.

“More than that, you must learn fire. How it burns through the world, without pause for empathy. The paths it takes, through air, or across water. The nature of fire,” the Drac said. “That, youngling, will take study. This week, you will begin to learn all you can about fire.”

Spike nodded. At least he wouldn’t go hungry again, and study was a simple task. He’d spent enough time with Twilight to be efficient, and it didn’t present any ethical dilemma.

“For now, show me your progress,” the Drac said.

Spike focused on his flame. Daily contact had strengthened his contact with it, made it less tentative. He bathed his mind in it, a roiling sea of green that engulfed his senses. The crack and roar in his ears, acrid smoke in his nostrils. It brought him to life, gave sharp clarity to the world around him. He snapped his eyes open, and filled his mouth with flame, holding it just inside. A few sparks fell from his lips, drifting down to the ground where he quickly stamped them out.

The Drac noticed, gesturing Spike’s mouth shut. “It no longer dissipates when you release it?”

“No,” Spike confirmed. “It first happened last week, a day after our session.”

“Excellent. And you’ve managed to not burn anything since then.”

“I was careful.”

“You must know the ways of fire, if only to avoid unpleasant accidents. You understand this?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Spike said. He knew from experience how dangerous he could be, living in a library in a treehouse. Dragonfire wasn’t the same as an ordinary, natural flame, instead of a simple chemical reaction; dragonfire was alive. It burnt hot, quickly and cleanly, left to itself it would spread exponentially. Twilight had calculated the difference, when they’d first noticed the difference. Where fire consumed its kingdom, spilling over the borders when it reached them, dragonfire invaded. Twilight referred to it as an active phenomenon, opposed to the passivity of nature. Dragonfire had a mind.

Practically, that meant dragons could control the rate at which their fire spread. They could excite it, send up a great expanse all at once, and they could dampen it, even extinguish it. That made it more than a tool, that made it part of them. Spike still struggled with it, controlling his fire. It wanted to grow, to burn and consume until nothing was left.

The Drac continued the lesson, showing Spike the way fire spread, embers carried by the wind, the differences between residential fires and forest fires, even the way ash spread through the soil, mixing with the dirt and fertilising the land.

“Fire is life, youngling. If you control one, you control the other.”

Author's Note:

Notes: Chapter Five

Comments

[Mister Morden]

Great chapter!

I put more details into my reply for the blog post.

[Ladrian]

“It is all around us, fiend. It is in the air and the water, the earth and the stone. It is in the bodies of our ponies, and their minds, and their hearts.”

Well, I really don't think so, but maybe a shard power? Or perhaps a sliver/splinter of it? The shard of... well, choice is now actually "Autonomy" which is in his new graphic novel, but I will assume that you can't See that far ahead, so it might be "Choice", but I could see Luna and Celestia each having part of the shard of "Choice".

...On the other hand... Maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe Celestia's is actually the Shard of Friendship or something. And Luna's is the Shard of Fear? I could see "Friendship" or something like it giving the ability to connect one's mind to others, and I could see "Fear" giving one the ability to see the future.

“Can’t it wait?” Rarity said.
“I hope so.”

Ha! Twi's an archmage now, that's practically a wizard. She gets to be cryptic all she wants. Besides, you're a Seer. I'd be surprised if you've never given someone cryptic advice.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Daerev said, with a gesture as he turned, leading Trixie inside. “But only because I know that Twilight would annihilate you if you tried anything.”
Heh. Yeah, right.

It's a good day when someone gets threatened with annihilation. Even indirectly. Especially if the one doing the annihilating is Twi.

Her name was Rarity, and for some reason she was completely soaked, as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. All except her head, anyway.
“If that’s all, Twilight?” Rarity asked, her mane dripping all over the floor.

I pictured Rarity as Kumagami from Charlotte. She gets soaking wet and finds people. Also need an extra blank line between these two sentences.

“It’s not that simple. I just can’t,” Trixie said. “But, Twilight, I hope you’ll consider me a friend all the same.”

YES! NO! Why not, Trixie!?! You're awesome, Twilight is awesome, you'll be awesome together! It'll be awesome! Why no awesome!? Boundless can go jump off a cliff! He's an ass anyway. I mean, not to be racist or anything. Donkeys are usually nice. It's just a figure of speech.

“Fire is life, youngling. If you control one, you control the other.”

Well, that's a little strong, there. controlling fire could let you easily end a life, and if used correctly could beat off cold or invaders, but "control life" is a little bit of exaggeration. Very cool ability with dragon fire, tho. Wonder if they could animate things with their breath? It does have a thing about colors.