> Shadow of the Guardians
>  by Warmblood
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Premonition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Centuries sealed away
a place lost in time
shall emerge one day
to a world remade

Only two shall remain
the jackal
and the slain

-Vol III, book two of the Prophecies of Archmagus Fire Dancer



The ruined temple had an unusual grandeur to it, the like of which was rarely seen in Equestria. Perhaps that was why Shining Armor did not sense the danger until it was almost too late. 

A sudden shadow passed over him. He did not spare a moment’s thought, jumping to the side as a titanic fist exploded lintel and capstone before embedding itself in the floor with a colossal crash. Bits of stone shot out, nicking his flank and narrowly missing his head.

He was already rolling to his hooves by the time the smaller chips and flakes of stone began to rain down. Amongst their patter, and the cloud of dust raised by the impact, Shining looked up to see a towering figure. 

His eyes swept from grey-furred hocks to a mountain of a chest, and finally to a head crowned with two massive upraised horns. Orange eyes glowed through the dust, glaring down at him. Shining did not intend to linger long. 

Shining started down the opposite direction at full gallop, gear slapping against his sides as he ran. He flew past rows of pillars, the ruins replete with a forest of stone columns to hold up a long-collapsed roof. 

Suddenly the sun was blocked out by the body of the titan, the whole temple plunged into shadow in one thunderous stride. 

Shining dodged left. 

Another fist smashed down beside him, destroying what remained of a marble arcade. Within seconds the great arm swept towards him, snapping thick stone pillars like twigs. Shining dove under the crumbling archway before him, and kept running.

There was a courtyard in front of him, with what appeared to be the remains of a large fountain at its center. The bulk of the ruined temple was behind him now, as was the monster. 

Thunder boomed and the ground shook as the creature stepped up onto the temple mount. A glance over his shoulder showed a giant black hoof crashing down on what was left of the structure. The monster was still moving towards him, its massive bulk slowly shifting like a landslide, with the unstoppable power of a moving mountain. There would not be time to take the stairs. 

Shining ran for a cluster of outbuildings on the other side of the courtyard. He vaulted several flights of stairs on the way, as a sound like rolling thunder drew nearer and nearer behind him. 

In times past, the structures before him might have been apartments for the ponies of the temple, but now they were nothing but shells of stone and crumbling mortar, open to the elements. 

As he passed them, zigzagging among their carefully laid-out corridors, an open hand swept overhead, a great swat that ripped through the upper level of several buildings. A shower of dust and debris rained down, walls crumbling, the ground littered with chunks of brick and stone. But It was no matter— the cliff face was approaching fast, each stride of his legs bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

There was a moment of calm in his head, as focus narrowed to what was directly before him. He could feel his lungs burning, throat choked by the dust and arid air. He could hear his panting breath. He could feel the clumped strands of his mane whipping behind him. On each stride his vision bobbed, his neck outstretched and bent down with ears laid back for speed. 

Though the monster roared behind him, he knew that he would make the edge. He prepared to push off with his hind legs as the open air beckoned.

He leapt with perfect form, front legs forward, back legs trailing behind. His stomach lurched as he began to fall. At that moment, with the ground far below, and the pale, cloudless blue sky above, he felt something he had not felt for a long time… he felt alive.
> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Salvation in darkness
by light of fire
truth in blindness
in sands ablaze

North star
southern cross
shine on

-Vol II, book one, Prophecies of the Archmagus Star Void

Shining Armor blinked. For a moment the strangest sense had passed over him, an intense deja-vu that hit him like a blow. In its aftermath his surroundings seemed keenly hostile. He was suddenly all too aware that the sun was fading, and he felt dark things beginning to stir. The hair on his neck prickled from root to tip as though about to stand on end. His shoulders were tense and taut beneath his skin. Windborne snow brushed past his face like a soft and subtle caress, sent by the same cold breath that grasped his thick, coarse grey fabric scarf and snapped it like a pennon over his shoulder. A shiver swept through him, a shiver not born of the ice and wind that ruffled the coat of his flanks. No, it was deeper than mere trembling in his extremities: it was a chill through his core and a flutter of his heart buried deep within his chest. It was anxiety, it was worry, it was fear.

Ephemeral and instinctual, his magic wound itself around the hilt of his sword. He could feel the blade’s weight by his side, and trace the familiar wrapping on its hilt. A broad flat hilt, heavily padded for better grip in the mouth. Sturdy crossbar to protect the muzzle and nose. A thin strong blade of silver-steel alloy and a sharp edge, cold as ice within its padded scabbard. He trusted it would serve to banish any evil creatures that crossed his path.

Comforted for the moment by the soothing pulse of his magic and the security offered by his sword, Shining Armor looked back towards the city. After a moment he lifted the rough, narrow-slitted snow goggles from his eyes, resting them on his forehead just above his horn. He squinted. Even at dusk the sun’s rays reflecting off the whiteness of the snow was almost too dazzling to behold.

In the distance he could see, even from this far out, the crowning spire atop the crystal palace, and its proximity should have calmed him. He had grown to love, more or less anyways, the great monument that was the symbol of the Crystal Empire and all the ponies who dwelled within its borders. Its brilliant ivory spires, reflecting the pale blue sky, stood for the love which had reinvigorated the once lost kingdom— the land it was now his duty to protect. Of course, the sharp lines of the crystal castle didn’t possess—in his eyes— the same sort of beauty that Canterlot possessed, but it was home now. His and Cadance’s.  

Shining’s brow furrowed in concentration. Why am I so anxious? Why should I be afraid, and of what? he wondered. This is supposed to my home after all. But still… His eyes scanned the surroundings, but although the shadows of the icy crags had begun to lengthen, he saw no immediate threats. Now more than ever, he wished for his wife’s unerring skill to name and soothe such feelings. She would say to him:  “It’s nothing but a passing shadow. Just a peaceful bird in the sky.” Or, “I trust you, Shining, you’ll protect me.” Or some other carefully crafted yet so utterly genuine reassurance of her love, to be dispensed in perfect little packets with her characteristic enthusiasm.

The sun was starting to set. Maybe that was it. Celestia’s warm yellow sun which bathed the land in its beneficent rays was settling to its sleep in the far west. A full moon was on the rise. Shining reminded himself that he ought to respect Luna’s pale and delicate moon just as much as Celestia’s sun, but the truth was that the night lacked the sun’s power; it failed to stay evil’s hand. Dark things emerged in the night, lost spirits and revenants, relics of King Sombra’s evil reign. Shining looked into the sky and shivered. The full moon would bring them out once again, stalking through the night, hunting for prey. It was his job to make sure they didn’t find any. It was his job to make sure all the citizens of the Crystal City were safe. Tonight though, something else rankled, something felt wrong.

He moved on, hoping motion would distract him from his anxiety. I’ve fought monsters before. He reassured himself, recalling the grip of his lance, his sword slicing through demon wraiths. They had died, or at least went back to wherever they came from. A blade with a silver-steel alloy did the job. He trusted that ability. Yet the feeling of wrongness dogged him through the snow and ice, until he reached the outskirts of the city once more.

A sentry hailed him there, at the outskirts of the city, a grey pony in bronze armor. He stood beside a crystal arch that served as the unofficial ‘gates’ to the Crystal Kingdom. “Hullo Captain! Returning from your patrol now?” 

“Yes, Sergeant Greymane.” Shining told the veteran guardspony. “Night is almost upon us.” 

“Aye, Sir Shining. And ‘tis a cold night coming on outside, by the looks of you.”

Shining Armor gave a deep sigh, shaking off a bit of snow that clung to his coat. “You would be right about that, Sergeant.”

The Crystal City was a strange place. Almost immediately upon entering the outskirts, the bone-chilling cold abated. Now that he was inside the protective barrier, Shining removed his scarf, no longer needed, and stuffed it in a small pack at his side. Greeting him was nothing more than a mild breeze that smelled faintly of flowers. Even the sky itself seemed brighter, or perhaps somehow clearer, and looking up, with the clarity of the air and the setting sun, he could just make out a few of the brightest stars beginning to emerge.

Greymane waited patiently for his senior officer to stow his gear. After that Shining turned to the guardspony again. “How goes the watch?” he asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Sir. Not many comings and goings. None in the past four hours.”

“The trade wagons?” Shining inquired.

“No Sir, they must be still at the station. Maybe didn’t want to risk the dark.”

“Mhm” Shining chewed his lip. The station was safe enough. So long as they kept their wits they would be fine. Shining reflected a moment on his surroundings. The far north was certainly a vastly different place from where he grew up, though at least the land in the immediate vicinity of the city reminded him more of home. There were many fields here, peppered with crystal monoliths, with trees and crops being grown. The grass was green and soft, just like the fields near Canterlot. It was truly an oasis, an island in an icy sea. 

Shining thought to ask more questions of the sergeant, but quickly reconsidered. The strange sense of wrongness still bothered him, but the simple truth was that the worry in his mind was too vague to voice. Something felt off, out of place, almost like deja-vu—but whatever it was, it wasn’t here. He nodded farewell to the Sergeant, and set out towards the city proper.

The Crystal City was built in a strange style, at least to Shining’s eyes. Its many crystal walls sparkled in the dwindling evening light. Each structure was slightly different, angled askew, a little taller or a little shorter. As the light waxed and waned throughout the day, the faces illuminated on each home and shop changed. It was odd, then, living in the city, because it seemed different all the time, as though the whole city was metamorphic, alive. It was an understandable thought considering the way the crystals seemed to grow out of the ground. Simply walking down the crystal streets in the evening gave a very different feeling than the same avenue in the morning.

Yet, the architecture reminded Shining just vaguely of old fashioned Canterlot. Buildings, or perhaps crystals in the shape of buildings sprouted balconies and flower boxes, and were crowned by high peaked roofs. It was as though it was contemporary with Canterlot, but different, and unique all its own. All the stranger it was that the smooth slabs of crystal showed no signs of wear for all those years. It truly was as though the city had been frozen in time.

Nearing the palace at the heart of the city, Shining passed a few ponies out on the streets. He recognized a middle-aged mare he had spoken to a month or two ago. She ran a small flower shop on the outskirts of town, selling both locally grown and recently imported flowers to anypony who would buy them. Their conversation was just small talk mostly. Shining learned that ponies were enjoying the flowers from the rest of Equestria, but that was about all. She was quiet, if seemingly a tad obsessive over her flower sales. In truth, she hadn’t made that much of an impression on Shining. Later though, he overheard a cleaning pony saying that the mare was known around the city for her sometimes eccentric behavior, and claims that she was sure, absolutely sure, that she had once had a foal, and yet no one else remembered her having a little filly or colt.

In the glow of the crystal streetlamps her face was half in shadow, for a moment seeming strange and alien. He caught her eye for an instant before he looked away. Another beat and she was past. Shining resisted an urge to look over his shoulder after her.

The last stretch, with the immense bulk of the crystal palace looming closer and closer, went by in silence. There were a few carts parked to the side of the road, but no ponies to be seen. A few lights glowed in upstairs windows, and thin trails of smoke drifted out of some chimneys, but for the most part the streets were quiet.

There was nothing out of place at the steps to the palace, though the arched entranceway at the base of the Crystal Palace was similarly nearly devoid of equine activity. Only a few guards stood watch beside the portal. Next to them rested the other guardians of the palace, larger than life statues of two gryphons in bright seafoam-colored crystal. 

Shining considered giving the guards on duty a word of encouragement, a demonstration of solidarity from their commanding officer. First things first. Other concerns weighed on his mind. Fears both shapeless and distinct, ever more mingled together and unpleasant to dwell upon. Most of all, there was one thing he wanted to make sure of.

“Where’s Princess Cadance?” Shining asked the guardspony to his right. Shining knew the fellow as Guard Highhoof from the training grounds and the night patrols. A good, reliable pony, the sort who must have seemed destined, even as a foal, to be a royal guard one day. 

The guardspony betrayed himself with just the slightest hint of an upturned eyebrow. “Sir?” 

“I mean, has the Princess left the palace since I’ve been gone?” 

“Ah!” The guard snapped to, catching the drift of Shining’s tone. “No, not to my knowledge, sir!” 

If he had thought that hearing those words would ease his worry, he was proven wrong. He knew he would have to see for himself. 

“Sir?” The guard said in askance.

“Huh?” Shining grunted, his mind focused elsewhere.

“Sir, did you see any ice wraiths out there?”

“Uh uh. Nothing.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it, sir?” the guard asked.

“Yes, yes.” Shining started to step over the threshold, paused, and swung back.  “But that doesn’t mean you should be any less vigilant soldier! Now tighten that chinstrap!” He had a responsibility as commanding officer to set a good example for the guards, after all. He allowed himself a brief smile as he turned for the door, but it was gone a moment later.

Inside, the palace was just as quiet. A soft hum of activity echoed off the crystalline walls, but the sound seemed far away. Like an an echo chamber, the palace tended to reverberate to sound. Shining knew it had something to do with the flat expanse of crystal walls, and the sharp corners that a pony had told him “liked to trap the sound”. 

All he knew was that the palace was in need of decoration, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Once those were in, it ought to start feeling more like home. At least that’s what Shining told himself. 

The stairs though, he might never get used to. He stared up the first flight, as always cursing the obtuseness of the palace’s architect. If only the palace wasn’t so tall! As though the builders thought they needed to build something to reach up to the sky! Who decided to build it like this anyway? He resolved to ask somepony when he had the chance.

He made his way up the stairs, climbing flight upon flight. On the fifth landing he passed a cleaning pony carrying a bundle of bedsheets on her back. He nodded to her absentmindedly as he walked by. It was then he heard it. A whisper, an echo. His ears swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. 

There! It sounded like somepony had a teakettle on in the kitchens, and somehow the sound was reaching him on the stairs, distorted and strange. But then it came from his left. He turned to a blank wall. To his right, the bannister. Then it was louder. It was behind him! His ears shot back as he spun. He faced nothing. Nothing at all. For a moment the change refused to register in his brain. Then he realized. The cleaning pony was gone.

How could that be? He had just passed her a moment ago. She had been right there! She was just there! 

At that moment he realized his ears were filled with an eerie silence, a silence beyond mere quiet. A total lack of sound. He wanted to scream. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Then sound came rushing back, suddenly louder than before, a torrent of sensation assaulting his ears. He heard the reverberation of a far off cry. No, it was his own, still echoing. And the whispers returned too, mouthing words his ears could not understand. Their tone was violent and harsh, punctuated by a guttural hiss. 

He gasped for breath. As abruptly as they had began, the sound and the whispers stopped. His head was spinning, around and around. It wasn’t until he had regained some semblance of balance that he could even tell up from down. The palace was still there, but he saw it from a different angle. He noticed his ankles touching the the soft carpet, the silky touch strangely out of place at that moment. He deduced, slowly, that he must have fallen to his knees when the sound struck him. The sound—what was it? 

There was little time for him to wonder. As he began to piece his thoughts back together another noise broke them apart. It was a scream. Beyond that, it was a mare’s scream, a scream of fear and shock, shrill and piercing. He recognized the voice.

In the silence that followed, Shining thought he could hear his heart pounding through his chest. How he got to his hooves so quickly after that, he could not say, but in an instant he was surging up the stairs. At the same time a shout tore from his throat: “CADANCE!”

His head was still spinning. Under normal circumstances he would have taken at least a moment to rest and regain his bearings. This was not normal. Even impaired, half blinded with a stubborn dizziness that dragged at his focus, he rushed the steps three and four at a time. 

It cost him. His hoof missed a step and his leg went out from under him. He went down, hard, on his right foreleg, a harsh, jarring blow. It did not feel good. As he got up the leg popped with a sickening crack. With the next step it sent a shiver through his core, the kind of grating twinge that suggested in no uncertain terms he should stop. He ignored it. There was no pain at that moment. Still, it was clear that leg was in bad shape. He shifted as much weight as he could to the others, but his pace hardly slowed.

“Cadance!” He shouted again. There was no doubt in his mind about the source of the scream. He knew his wife’s voice. He knew she was in danger if she had screamed like that. She was not one to go into hysterics. She was strong. If she had been that frightened… she must be in danger.

“Hold on Cadance!”

Shining hurdled up the last few flights to a larger landing. His legs began to burn from sheer exertion. Every step brought jarring impacts on his injured right leg, but he continued on until he crested the final few steps. The landing opened up in front of him, a sort of balcony from which one could look down to the entry hall below. It was a long way down from the bannister at the edge to the stone tile. Opposite the balcony were three evenly spaced doors. The two on the sides were large guest suites, while the one in the center led down a hallway to the royal library and quarters.

She would not be in the throne room. It was far too large, too formal. She would have just had dinner, and after dinner she preferred the library. That’s where he expected Cadance to be. That’s where he ran.

Shining burst through the center double door. He quickly noted that the doors to the quarters had not been opened before he arrived. He ran past several side doors, his hoofbeats an irregular pattern, heavy on the front. At the end of the hall was another set of purple colored doors. Shining could see the one on the right was just slightly ajar, a bright green light, like that of a green tinted lamp, streaming from the gap between them. Shining focused all his effort on the sight of those doors. His horn began to glow with a luminous white light as he ran. 

Closer and closer they loomed, teasingly, as though in slow motion. There was a flicker in the light cast from the door, but no time to slow before he threw his shoulder into it. 

He was prepared to level his horn at whatever lurked in the library beyond. Rebounding off the door, which slammed to the wall, he found himself engulfed in light. It was a noxious green, like the leaves of poison ivy, surrounded by a deeply violet aura. In its wake, shadows of lamps and chairs and other furniture flashed across the tall bookcases lining the walls, and at its center, a pony was suspended like a ragdoll. 

Shining recognized the pink coat amongst the tongues of green, and the shadows of purple and black. 

“Cadance!” Shining yelled. She floated at least two ponies’ heights above the floor. At his call, her head snapped to him, large liquid eyes reflecting the green light that swirled around her. 

“Shining!” He took a step forward at the sound of her voice,  his desire almost involuntary to protect her from whatever this madness was. “No!” She shouted to him. “Don’t! It’s a trap!” As if sensing his presence, the spell of whirling light and shadow began to intensify. In a moment Cadance began to slowly spin through the air, pirouetting like a marionette on tangled strings. 

Shining backed off for a moment but was not deterred. “I’m getting you out of there!” He yelled over a steadily increasing din from the spell. 

“No!” Cadance shouted back. “You can’t! The spell can’t be stopped once it’s cast.” Her voice trembled unsteadily. They were desperate words that came and went as she was spun around. Around the room, several open books had pages flapping as though caught in a gale. A rumble filled the space like thunder, a static buzz in the air.

“What spell?” Shining yelled, as his horn glowed a brilliant white. 

Cadance saw his horn alight, and looked at him with desperate, yet steady eyes. “Don’t you even think about it, Shining Armor!” She turned her neck to try and track him while she  spun. She seemed to sigh, although any sound it might have made was lost amidst the chaos. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I know more about spells than you?” Shining thought he could see a trace of a smile on her lips. 

“What spell?” Shining demanded.

“D-Don’t worry about that, Shining,” Cadance told him. “Everything will be okay.”

“You’re lying.” He took another step forward, the rumble of the spell changing in tenor even as he did so. 

“Please! Stop!” Cadance cried out. Her voice was wavering, choked. “You can’t… You can’t.”

“What spell?” Shining asked once more, a terrible fear building inside of him. 

“Just… listen.” Her mane swirled around her head like a pink and purple nimbus. “I don’t have long, so I’ll just say it. I love you, Shining… I love you more than anything and…you have to listen...” The light of the spell seemed to morph and change, rotating faster and faster, a kaleidoscope of color painting the walls in sickly light. Shining kept his eyes fixed on her’s. “...I have seen his plan, he wants you to chase him. He wants you to forget who you are…”

“Who?” Shining shouted above the howl of the magic tide. 

“Don’t!… Just… remember… I… love…you….”

Suddenly the vortex of light and magic coalesced around her. Her legs were flung out from her sides, her mane splayed out around her neck. She was held upright, silhouetted by the implosion of the spell. That moment all was quiet, until the spell exploded once more. The light was blinding, like staring into the heart of furnace, and the spell roared with a banshee scream.  In an instant, all sight of Cadance was lost amidst the blast. Then the shock reached Shining. A force like a tidal wave hit him, hurling him back.

Shining remembered a feeling akin to floating. How long it persisted, he could not say. The world he saw was a haze of searing red and inky black. In the center, a single figure, legs outstretched. Frozen in place.  Nothing moved, and time seemed strange and indefinite.

True consciousness returned some time later. It was marked by pain, and a blinding peek of true light under fluttering eyelids. He felt distant, out of touch with the world around him. Yet at the same time he was pressed down by an immovable heaviness, as though his limbs were made of lead. There was a pounding in the back of his skull. Not a headache with a sharp, irritating pain, but rather a deep pulsing throb, robbing him of any desire to move, and all beyond the ability to lie there and endure the pain. 

Nevertheless, he was still aware. Something hard and ice cold pressed up under his chin, a sharp edge digging into his skin until his head was lifted up. His dazed body protested, and the throbbing at the back of his skull grew more intense. Nevertheless, his eyes opened to at least a narrow slit, and beyond the fading red afterimages burned onto his retinas he saw a shadowy figure towering over him. The details came into view as his eyes adjusted.

He saw a white reflection on a shiny metal surface. It took a moment to recognize this as his own reflection from the other pony’s chest plate. Shining realized the armor must extend down to the hooves, likely to metal hoof-boots. Like the one digging into his neck. 

The owner of the armor showed little patience for Shining’s gradual recovery. The edge of the metal boot pressed hard against Shining’s skin, forcing his head higher. 

He found himself looking into hideous red eyes, slitted like a snake’s. Around the irises blazed a toxic, sickening green. It took a moment for Shining to realize he was looking at a pony’s face. The face was strongly angular, masculine. He had some sort of black mask that descended from forehead to nose, emblazoned by twin grey chevrons. On his forehead was a thick, upward curved horn, blazing red like a sword fresh out of the forge, and above it, a shiny silver crown topped by steely horns and a red-winged emblem. At the edge of his vision, Shining could just make out a patch of deep red fabric draped over the pony’s shoulders. 

Even in his dazed state, images of shadow and fear flashed before Shining’s eyes. Time had passed, but those memories had not faded.

King Sombra cocked his head slightly, like a mildly bemused foal in the process of crushing a bug under his hoof. His lips opened into a feral snarl, a vicious grin marked by curved fangs that protruded beneath his angular snout. 

“Ah.” The sound hissed out of the old king’s teeth. Under Shining’s chin, the hoof-boot ground into his skin. His head was forced higher. He was forced to look into those red eyes. Neck muscles ached under the strain of being pulled upwards against their will. “You survived.” Sombra’s voice was dripping with malevolence, yet only mild disappointment, as though the difference in outcome was all but insignificant to him. 

It was strange; despite the snake-like appearance of the king’s pupils, his eyes did not have the cold stare of a reptile. They told of Sombra’s emotion, insofar as that emotion was hate. It was clear in the set of his black eyebrows and unflinching, contemptuous glare— he made no attempt to hide it.

In the distance Shining saw a pink shape over the King’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe Cadance had survived the blast. He wanted to call out to her, but Sombra’s hoof pressed up against his jaw, making the task of opening his mouth almost impossible, even if he had the presence of mind to coordinate it with his vocal cords. Sombra saw his eyes looking that way and laughed with what can only be described as a cackle.

“Yes…she remains. Her body, at least.” Shining’s eyes flicked back to Sombra’s pair of black slits. “But her soul is mine, princeling. Now and forever.” Sombra watched his words strike home. “Hah. You did not even try to save her, did you?” He asked with a sneer. Shining forced his mouth open to respond, but only a few sounds gurgled out of his throat, and nothing distinguishable as speech. 

Sombra harrumphed. “I thought so. Pathetic.” The king’s steel boot thrust back into Shining’s neck, driving into his windpipe and forcing out a startled breath. Still dazed, Shining toppled over backward, vision once more spinning. Within moments his throat felt like it was closing up. He was choking, suffocating. 

Shining’s mouth hung open as he gasped for breath against the floor of the library. Every breath was a struggle.The dark shape that was Sombra in Shining’s narrowed vision turned and strode a few paces away. There were sounds coming to Shining, although distant, as his own world narrowed to the fight for air in his lungs. Somewhere behind him he heard shouting, armor clanking. There were loud hoofbeats that sounded like many ponies ascending the stairs. Ahead of him, he was dimly aware of Sombra’s voice.

“You were a fool to think you had defeated me, and a fool to think you could. Nopony now living can kill me—I saw to that.” By force of will, Shining struggled to keep his eyes open. He saw the world around him in still-life, moments passing one by one on each indrawn breath. “Tartarus and the Crystal Empire were only the beginning. You will see in time.”

Sobra fixed him with a steady stare from his burning eyes. “It’s better this way, don’t you see?” he hissed. His muzzle showed a twisted grin. “Death is too short a penalty— for insolence.”

Shadow congealed around King Sombra’s form. Swirls of violet and black cloaked his shape, obscuring him from view until his outline became vague and indistinct. Then it seemed as though there was no pony standing amidst the whirlwind, only grains of sand blowing away on the wind. A moment later the black clouds gave way, and where Sombra once stood nothing remained. 

Shining had no conception of where he went, only that he was gone from the room. Revealed by his passage once more was the shape of a pink pony lying in the center of the room, a circle of torn pages and open books lying about her. She did not move nor make a sound.

The shadows were closing in. Shining felt himself slipping into darkness. He heard the shouting growing closer, hurried hoof falls coming his way, but as his vision faded, all he saw was that image of Cadance, and all he thought was that he had failed her, and he surrendered to the dark embrace of sleep.
	
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The last thing Elan remembered was Momma’s face, her round brown eyes blinking away tears as she set her filly on the stone. 

“It’s cold, Momma.” said Elan.

Her mother sniffled with a sad laugh. “I know dear. Now be a good filly and lie still. It’s important. Hooves to your sides,” she pointed, “there.”

Elan kept as still as she could, like Momma said. “What’s going on Momma?”

There was a huge crash outside like thunder booming between cloud and ground. The stone shook beneath her, trembling like a little earthquake. Within moments she could hear crashing, breaking, yelling. There was something happening, something terrible. The sound had grown to a near roar.  Now there was noise everywhere, ringing in her ears.

Momma’s eyes were saucer wide, her mane disheveled with wild strands wrapped around her ears. She managed a quick smile for her filly. 

“It’s okay... I love you, dear.” she said above the din. “But listen now. You need to close your eyes. Close your eyes and count to ten dear.” There was an intensity in her voice that broached no argument, and Elan had no choice but follow her instructions, despite all the questions she wanted to ask at that moment. It was okay because Momma was there. Momma would keep her safe.

A gentle white glow began to surround Momma’s horn. For a second Elan looked into her mother’s eyes, then Elan reluctantly closed hers. 

Sometimes Momma picked her up with her magic. She remembered that from when she was younger. It was fun, it made her laugh, because sometimes Momma would tickle her when she did it. She wondered if that was why Momma was using magic. But she did what Momma said. She counted down:  Ten...Nine...Eight…Seven...Six…Five...Four...Three...Two…

One. 

Elan let out her breath. She had not realized she had been holding it. Everything was… quiet, save for her soft sigh. Just a second ago, the world had been full of sound. The “BOOM!” of stone hitting stone, grinding sounds of crumbling and breaking, screeches and hisses, shouts, yells, screams, deafening roars so loud they hurt Elan’s ears. Now it was all gone. 

Elan wondered if Momma cast a spell on her ears. They felt much better now. The fear was going away. She was still scared, but without the noise it didn’t feel so near anymore. She was curious if she could still hear Momma.

She opened her eyes. There was nothing there. It was like looking at the inside of her eyelids. She blinked once, twice. Nothing. She looked to her right, and her left. Blackness. 

Am I blind? I can’t see anymore! Her hoof reached up to her eyes, to feel for a blindfold, even though she could tell her eyelids were open. 

The fear was rising again.

She began to tremble. The stone was icy cold against her side. She moved her head, and to her surprise her neck was painfully stiff, like getting out of bed after sleeping wrong. She couldn’t see Momma anywhere. She couldn’t hear her. Where had she gone?

Elan tried to move her legs, but if her neck was stiff, they were stone, heavy and slow like molasses. When she finally moved the leg, something dragged over her side. There was something lying over top of her, something that felt like a blanket. She tried to push it away from her, but it was bulky and heavy. It felt scratchy, very stiff, and so dessicated that just trying to push it away poked a hole right through the fabric. Anxious to be rid of it she struggled to throw it off with a sharp kick. To her shock she felt the material turning to dust in her hooves. Her legs were so stiff it was hard to move, and even though she kicked out again and again, the blanket remained caught around her hooves, and she could hear her own frustrated cries reverberating in her ears, her hooves rebounded off walls of hard stone surrounding her, and panic struck her. She knew mother would have told her not to scream, but she did anyway. It came back just as loud, ringing in her ears. Her legs were stiff as old twigs, but she didn’t care anymore. 

Everything was closing in, the unforgiving wall her back was braced against, the floor, the invisible ceiling, they all pressed down on her. She couldn’t breathe. It was not rational thought anymore, it was blind thrashing, hooves kicking in every direction, colliding with hard stone, chipping, and kicking again. Her head smacked into a wall, hard, but it didn’t matter. That dull pain was nothing compared to the frantic intensity of the struggle. The only thing she felt was the panic deep inside of being crushed, of running out of air, and the only thing she could do was fight it.

It was a tiny flicker of light that finally made her stop. Her right rear hoof came up hard and crashed against the stone. She felt the impact, dully, as she felt all the others. But this one managed to move the surface above her, move it just a fraction of an inch. 

For a moment she saw a sliver of wan light coming through a crack in one side of the ceiling, then it was gone. But it was something, anything, far better compared with darkness and blind fear. It gave her something to focus on, to bring herself back to her senses.

Now that she had stopped— literally— kicking and screaming, her world became quiet again, save for her panting breath and a ringing in her ears. At that moment Elan thought back to what her mother would have said to her. She would have told her to think things through, and be rational. Elan’s ears burned as she thought of how momma would chastise her if she saw her acting like such a foal. 

Feeling was starting to come back to her legs too. Her hooves hurt. A lot. She could bear it, but she knew immediately she shouldn’t have kicked so hard. The walls of her prison were hard stone. Stone did not give easily. She did not want to think about how her hooves looked.

Fortunately, the blanket or whatever it was had been mostly destroyed by her struggles. What was left seemed to be a lot of dust, which got in her nose and made her want to sneeze.

She tried to understand what had happened. She failed. One moment her mother was there with her, the next she was stuck somewhere small and dark with what seemed like a ragged old bedsheet. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing today had. 

She had been eating breakfast like normal, and then momma came in, and she was scared, so scared that Elan could tell, which never happened, and then she told Elan that they had to go somewhere, and they had to go right now, and then there was the noise, and the shouting. It didn’t make sense. 

Elan was no foal. She might be only eight, but she knew she was a smart filly. She knew something bad was happening. Nothing else could explain it. What it was, she couldn’t guess, but she had heard ponies screaming—she shivered a little— it was bad. 

Now everything was quiet—- just the sound of her own breathing slowly returning to normal. It was like she had been teleported somewhere. Was that what mother had done? She wondered if mother would be following soon. Then she realized that was probably silly: she wouldn’t fit in here. Wherever here was. Which brought her back to the present, and the situation she was in.

Whatever was above her, what she thought of as the ceiling, was made of stone, just like the walls. But, it seemed she could move it if she tried really hard. Maybe then, she concluded, the ceiling wasn’t connected to the walls at all, and she could push it away. She braced her back against the hard floor and pushed up against the center of the ceiling with her back hooves. It didn’t budge. She tried all four hooves, wincing slightly at the tingling sensation from her hooves, trying not to think about how terrible her hooves must look now. Still, the stone did not move. 

Frustrated, she paused to think. It was almost as though she could hear her mother’s voice telling her to focus, to think things through. It was still pitch dark, although it did not seem so bad anymore. She could stand to spend a few more minutes in darkness. At least above there was the promise of light. 

If she couldn’t push up, she’d have to try to push to the side.

She set her hooves to the edge of the lid, bracing herself up against the inner wall for support. With a tremendous shove, the lid moved up a little, and over a little. She gave another push, and another, straining just to make it budge. 

Finally with a last great heave the stone cover tilted back, stone scraping against stone, and fell. Light streamed in. Elan blinked at the seemingly dazzling light as the lid landed with an echoing boom.



Elan stood up. Her legs were a little unsteady, but she managed it. She saw right away she was in some kind of underground chamber. “Momma?” Her voice rang out, echoed, died. There was no response. The only sound was the whistle of wind through a distant passageway. 

“Momma? Where are you Momma?” She looked around for a sign. She stood in a stone hall, vaulted ceiling high above. The tall pillars holding up the roof were the tinged with rust-red dust, and the stone was pockmark-scarred and worn. On the floor, small drifts of dust weaved themselves amongst the stone casements like sidewinder snakes.

To her left and to her right, there was a line of grey stone boxes, each about the size of a pony, with aisles in between. They too were covered with red tinged dust. But it was not just one row: there were many, filling up the hall with regimented lines, evenly spaced between the pillars.

Elan knew where she was. Momma had told her about it. The mausoleum. Where dead ponies go. “H-how did I get here?” Elan sank to her haunches, in the dust, amongst the stone coffins. “I don’t like it in here. Why would Momma send me here?” Tears came to her eyes, as she softly rocked back and forth. Everything was different. She didn’t understand. The world no longer made sense. Mother was gone. She was lost, alone. 


* * *


Far away, something stirred. Under a mountain, in a deep chamber pierced by a single shaft of sunlight, the creature awoke. 

Dust motes laced the air in the cavern, hanging over thick stone plates and heavy iron chains. The links were red with oxidation, and the chains were anchored into holes set in the floor. A single feather, grey, with a tuft of white down, drifted to the stone— a feather at least half as tall again as the average pony’s foreleg. 

The chains rattled, drawn taut for the first time in uncounted years, and the creature opened its eyes.


* * *



The wind was whispering outside the hall, the sound at once regular and disconcerting, like a rainstorm lashing outside one’s door. It was a reassurance that the world continued on outside the confines of the underground hall, but also a reminder of what must be faced sooner or later.  

Inside, all was still. There were geometric tiled designs on both floor and ceiling, Though their colors were faded, and dust was heaped upon them, the craftsponyship of their makers was clear. The soaring roof, supported by stone pillars, was in juxtaposition with the feeling of being underground, as there were no windows, only the diffuse glow emanating from the square-framed archway at the far side of the hall. The dim light that seeped in gave a somber feeling to the space, even apart from the thought of so many ponies being laid to rest here.

Elan had sat in silence for some time. Her sobs had gone on until there was nothing more to cry about. Her tears were those of a confused and scared filly, and eventually that fear had to turn to something else. She had waited, and listened. Watched, and saw nothing moving. In the city there were always so many ponies talking, shouting, laughing. She could easily recall from school the raucous noise of thirty fillies and colts cavorting before the teacher called them to lessons. Even late after dark she sometimes heard laughter, and amiable conversation from ponies out enjoying the night. It was a close-knit city, made of close-huddled homes and narrow streets. As such, she found the lack of voices unnerving. It put her into a strange state of mind, as though she too should stay still, lest she break the solitude of the world around her.

It was all at odds with had happened that morning. The yelling, crashing, breaking, it was all gone, replaced with silence. A disquieting silence. Eventually though, something had to change. After a time the silence simply became unbearable. Elan felt the need to say something, if only to break the weight of stillness that had settled over her.

“OK. So…” she said, speaking to nopony but herself, “Momma isn’t here.” Her voice was small amidst the grand architecture of the stone hall. “Maybe everypony… went away? Left somehow? I don’t know…” She stomped her hooves on the tile. “I don’t know!” The clack! of her hooves echoed, but the empty hall was unmoved by her frustration. 

She let out an exasperated sigh. “But I have to do something. I can’t just sit here. Mother would say to figure this out. She would say to come up with an idea, and… try it out. There’s got to be ponies around here somewhere, and they’ll know where to find Momma.” 

Her legs were still stiff, but she made it to her hooves. The ache in her muscles remained, though it was not nearly so bad as it had been when she was in the coffin. Instead of a deadness to her motion it was a dull twinge, but at least it was there, at least she could feel her legs under her. That was surely better than not feeling them at all.

The doorway was at the end of the hall. There were no other entrances or exits Elan could see along the other walls, and indeed, the lone doorway was the only real source of light. When she had first emerged it had seemed brighter, but perhaps that was only in contrast to the total darkness she had just escaped from. Now that her eyes had once again adjusted to the light, she realized the chamber was only dimly lit. 

She hesitated a moment. The light from the archway beckoned, but deep down she felt her stomach twist out of anxiety. For the hundredth time, she wondered if Momma had meant for her to stay here. If so, then I ought to just… 

She paused. “But she didn’t say where to meet her…” Elan said, mumbling to herself. She looked over at the doorway to the hall. It was light out, but that was about all she could see. “But she didn’t say to stay put either…” Elan felt a sinking feeling in her gut. Why hadn’t Momma said anything about this? 

“I’ve already tried sitting here doing nothing…haven’t I?” She hadn’t heard anything outside, save for the wind, that was better than when she was with Momma. I must be far away, she thought. “I mean, I can’t just sit, right? A quick peek outside couldn’t hurt?” She hoped. “Yeah. A quick peek, that’s all.”

She crept to the door. The stone sarcophagi around her passed slowly by her sides row by row. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. It felt like there were eyes watching her, somewhere off in the shadows. 

Elan told herself it was her imagination. That was what Momma said about nightmares and bumps in the night wasn’t it? It wasn’t a huge solace. She hurried her steps.

She reached the archway, but didn’t step through just yet. Instead she pressed herself against the wall to the side. 

Just like playing hide and seek, right?

She peeked through. It was bright. The arch was the start of a narrow corridor that led into open air. There were pillars carved in haut-relief into the sides of the passage. Much of the detail on their surface though, was weathered and worn. Just like inside, there was a coating of dust, but here it was much thicker.

The air that reached her nose was hot and dry. It smelled weird. Almost metallic or chemical.

The sun was bright, very bright, really. The light colored stone of the walls was ablaze in white where the sun fell upon it. Beyond, there was what looked like an open plaza, and then further away, a vertical cliff face. The color of it all was washed out in the sun, reducing the pallette to sepia and light pastels.

Elan recognized the place. The rock face she could see through the arch was the south wall, the Shield Wall. She could tell by a jut of stone the foals liked to call ‘The Beak’. A few of the more intrepid foals had even attempted a climb of it one day, promptly curtailed by the powers that be as too dangerous for young fillies and colts. 

She was home then. Or not too far from it. But it was all wrong. It was as hot as she had ever experienced, even in midsummer, and much too dry. Where was the sound of the falls? Where for that matter, was the sound of the other ponies? 

At the base of the outside arch there were little chunks of brownish-red rock littering the ground. Living in a steep sided valley, it was not uncommon for little bits of rock to fall from the cliffs, but they usually got swept up pretty quickly by cleaning ponies and such. 

Here they just… sat. As though nopony had been by in ages and ages to pick them up.  

Elan sighed. It didn’t feel real. It felt like it was all some strange dream that she would soon wake from. But at the same time she knew it was real. She looked down at her hooves, now chipped and scuffed from being banged against stone. They seemed real. She felt a dull pain from her hooves too. That seemed real. 

She didn’t want it to be real. She wanted to wake up, in her own bed, with Momma waiting to get her ready for school. For once, that would be a relief. She wanted a nice boring breakfast of bran and oats. But if this was a nightmare, it seemed she couldn’t wake up.

Either way, nothing was stirring outside, pony or otherwise. She stepped out from the wall, and gingerly made her way into the corridor. As she did a hot breeze ruffled her mane. Outside it was very bright, enough so that she blinked as she stepped into the full sun, and taking a moment to shield her eyes with a leg, she looked around.

> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The streets of the city were quiet in the months following the attack. Ponies conversed in hushed voices, huddled in tight circles. Festivals were put off, party banners put away. Rumor spread, and gossip too. Though there was no official period of mourning handed down from the palace, all ponies soon knew of the tragedy that had befallen their rulers. The hope that had grown was crushed. The renaissance of the Crystal City was over. Without the Princess it seemed as though there was no light emanating from the Crystal Palace, nor laughter to brighten the ponies spirits.

        Of course, word had been passed, quiet whispers about the state of the Princess. Servants in the castle had seen her after the attack, as she was rushed to the infirmary. Most believed it was true that she had survived whatever had been done to her. Yet no one suggested recovery was possible. Perhaps it was that the residents of the Crystal City, each one of them, had experienced the wrath, or at least the will of King Sombra before. Somehow they knew that what he wrought could not be undone, for the same servants had reported that her body was limp, lifeless. One could open her eyelids and stare into dull eyes bereft of sight. 

As the weeks ground on in bleak and silent drudgery, the differentiation between true mourning and whatever this was became less and less clear. Her coma might as well be true death, for everypony knew her soul had been stolen away by the dark King.  It was just as it had been before, during Sombra’s first rule, only worse.

The fear on the streets, the fear that made mothers hold tight their little colts and fillies at night, was that Sombra would soon return, and with him, the sadness, the darkness, the dull and unbearable life that they had once had to endure.

There was a second rumor from the castle, carried by the same ponies who had seen the Princess in the hours after the attack. They said that Shining Armor had been taken to the infirmary too, but whereas the Princesses’ injury seemed beyond what one could see, and beyond that which any normal doctor could heal, the harm done to the Prince was much more everyday: a cracked bone in leg, broken ribs, minor magic burns—and yet he too was changed.

Anguish. Pain. For a time they had been his reality, waking and sleeping one and the same. The doctors told him he had been brought in writhing on the gurney, calling out meaningless, indistinguishable words.

But time had passed since that day. For Shining Armor, fear had come and gone—there was nothing more it could take from him. He healed, regaining his strength by measures. Yet scars remained. A hollowness inside. An idea formed in his head. He knew one pony held the answer, far, far away, in the land of Tartarus. And he swore he would find him. 

The sword in his mouth was an old one, its feel as familiar to him as the walls of his hooves. With a twist of Shining’s neck the blade flashed through the air, almost faster than the eye could trace. At the middle of the arc a puff of dust rose from the target dummy, a fresh slash appearing across it’s burlap covered neck.

        With a grunt Shining swung again, channeling the momentum of the sword into an downward slice that neatly removed a burlap ear. Muscles on his neck and shoulders stood out from the effort, but they were clearly used to such exercise. 

        Shining pivoted to the right, throwing his head back and to the side, planting his rear hooves to the ground, and with a jerk of his head drove the blade home into the chest of the dummy. There was a solid ‘thwomp!’ and as he withdrew the sword a bit of straw spilled forlornly out of the burlap.

“Shining” said a familiar voice.

He spun, twisting his right foreleg in the process, and quickly winced. His eyes widened. 

“Twrlr…” He spat out the sword hilt, his magic holding it above the ground. “Twily!” He took a moment to rest the sword against the dummy. He could deal with it later.

“Hi Shining.” The princess was standing ten paces away. Twilight Sparkle… Princess Twilight Sparkle, his little sister. She was not so tall as the other princesses— not yet anyways — though it seemed she was beginning to learn the same royal grace. Perhaps she was taking lessons from Celestia and Luna. But what others saw as a pony on a pedestal was still an awkward little sister to Shining Armor.

He wasted no time in chit chat, and instead wrapped her up in a tight hug. If she was bothered by his sweaty coat she didn’t show it, squeezing her brother just as tightly in turn. 

“It’s good to see you.” He said, wrapping a foreleg over her neck and drawing her in.

Twilight held the embrace a little longer before she withdrew, though her touch lingered on his shoulder for a moment.  “I’m glad to see you too, Shining.” She paused a moment, biting her lip just slightly, perhaps not even realizing she did it. “I mean, I know it hasn’t been that long, but still… it’s good to see you.”

In truth it had not been that long since she had last visited— a mere two months ago— but seeing her brought back memories, both of time with her, and of Cadance. 

“I know, Twilight.”

She seemed to struggle at this, opening her mouth then quickly closing it again. Shining didn’t mean to sound crass, but what else was there to say? For all that he loved his sister, he knew she would not travel so far just to say hello. She was always goal-driven, ever striving for more, even when she was just a little filly. 

Shining smiled inwardly. She was more like him than she would ever admit. There was no room for half-measures with either of them. They both wanted to be the best, even if it was the best in totally different fields. With Twilight it was knowledge. For Shining it was the service of the crown, being the protector, the vigilant watcher, and if need be, defender. 

        “So… this is the training yard?” Twilight asked in a ‘how’s the weather’ tone. Shining’s gentle smile faded. It had taken less than a minute and she already sounded as though she was holding back. Shining knew all too well the question she wanted to ask.
        
        “Yes” Shining answered. In fact it was an annex of the barracks complex, itself a part of the palace area, located just to the northwest of the grounds. 

        “You practice here often?” Twilight followed on, pressing forward.

        “Of course.” Shining said. Twilight nodded as though that had some particular meaning to her.

        “I see your leg has healed nicely.” 

        Shining tapped his hoof on the turf. “It’s getting better.”

        Twilight bit her lip again. “Shining… when your leg is fully healed…” Twilight began, her tone hesitant.

        “Yes?” Shining responded flatly and reluctantly.

        Twilight gave a slightly exasperated sigh. “Are you planning on something? Is that what this training is for?” She gestured at the straw dummy, the sword, not a wooden training sword but a real one.

        Ah, the heart of the matter. He had wondered when he could expect intervention from Canterlot. It had been the second thought that came into his head when he first saw her. 

        Shining fixed her with a steady gaze. “You’ve known all along what I’ve planned. I haven’t tried to keep it a secret.” Twilight stepped back, turning away from him and huffing out a drawn out breath. She looked down at her hooves for a moment, as though collecting her thoughts.

        Twilight turned back to him, her eyes seeking his, questioning. “Surely you don’t mean to actually do it do you? You can’t go to Tartarus.” Her newly-minted royal facade had gone away, and now she wore a disbelieving and pained look, gaze hunting back and forth over his face, for a hint of his intentions.

        “Why not?” Shining said, shifting his weight on his hooves. He had not wished for a confrontation so quickly, and he could see the disbelief in her eyes. If only she would give me a minute to explain.

        “Why not!?” She snorted incredulously. “Why not? Because it’s just…. silly! It’s forbidden!” Twilight did not shout, but her tone was agitated, obviously disapproving. Her words were clipped, tumbling out unplanned.

        “But not impossible, is it? I used to think of it as some kind of fairytale. Maybe that’s what we were taught, but I know better now.” He had practiced that phrase, and still it left a sour taste in his mouth.

        Twilight was taken aback, a deeper frown spreading across her face. “Shining, please.”

        Shining sighed, turning towards the palace. This was his only chance to avoid confrontation. “Look, I can show you. I can prove it. Follow me… unless you want to stand out here in the dark.” The light had started fading. Shining’s practice routine was in the afternoon hours, and he had been almost finished anyway. Now the shadows had grown quite long, a consequence of the late autumn days in the higher latitudes.

Twilight hesitated, but eventually moved to follow him, hoofbeats sounding almost as though she was stomping the turf. His walking pace was quick, but she kept up right behind and to his side.

“Listen, Shining, even if it was possible, there are so many reasons not to go.” she tried to catch his eye, but if he saw her he did not acknowledge it. Instead he pretended to be interested looking off towards the granary buildings. “There are so many ways it could end badly.” Twilight pleaded.

Shining bowed his head slightly. “I know, Twilight, but if it’s possible… I’ll show you it is.” Twilight said nothing in return.

They walked on in silence for a while, passing under the flying arches of the palace walls, a patchwork of shadows alternatively taking and releasing them. Shining noticed Twilight shiver once or twice in the longer stretches without the sun. He frowned, thinking about how far Twilight had come to get here, just to meet him. A journey of many hours, perhaps days, even for a Princess. Yet, what could he offer? A warm place to stay, of course, but there really was otherwise little joy he could offer her here.  It was a desolate place without Cadance.

The guards at the gate simply parted with a nod when Shining approached. Inside, the entry foyer was dim and unwelcoming, with nopony in sight. Without a word, Shining started for a door on the far side of the hall, and Twilight moved to follow close behind.

In the Crystal Palace, there were two main libraries. One was that in which Cadance had been attacked. The other was deep in the basement of the crystal tower, archives that held many ancient scrolls and heavily bound books, their pages and parchment yellowed and old. It was here, amidst the smell of ink and mildew, that Shining had taken to spending his evenings, pouring over page after page of faded hoofwritten script.

Going there now was essentially on time with routine. On a normal day he might clean his armor, sharpen his sword, and perhaps after that a quick shower. Then it would be down the spiral steps to the archives. Searching them had been time consuming, and often frustrating, but it had turned up results.

Twilight followed him down the stone stairs. There was no room to turn and see what her expression was as she followed him down. He imagined she was not happy, but if so she held her silence down the steps.

Entering the room, Twilight paused at the chamber door. This far down, the palace was not crystal. The crystal of the palace seemed to be melded to the ground, but it sat on top of deeper, quite possibly older foundations. Here the stone was not cut and placed, but rather chiseled into shape, most likely by ponies long forgotten, even if their craft remained. The place was cold, and drafty. Water seeped down the walls in places where a natural fault ran through the rock. The whole place smelled of damp and decay.

“Shining, what’s that smell?” Twilight wrinkled her nose. 

Shining half turned while working the key in the decidedly old fashioned looking lock. “Mold maybe.” he said.

“Yuck.” Twilight spat out. “How can you get any work done down here?”

“You get used to it.” Shining said.

The key turned in the lock with a thunk, and Shining swung the door open. Twilight followed a few paces behind. Inside, the room was a rat’s nest of scrolls and old books— perhaps literally judging by the smell and general state of the place. In the center of the room though, there was some order to the chaos. There was an old wooden desk piled with papers in various states of yellowing and decay. Some looked old enough to date back hundreds of years.

Twilight looked at the covers of some of the books, and the headings on the scrolls. ‘Treatise in Alchemical Salts’, ‘Grand Master’s guide to Telomancy’, ‘Observations on the Great Eastern Sea’. All seemed to be very old, and obscure, at best.

“Shining, have you read all of these books?” Twilight’s voice carried a note of incredulity with it.

Shining smiled slightly. “No. I figure that would be a tough task even for you. Most of it has just been narrowing down what I’m looking for. At first I knew nothing, not even where or what to search for. I spent the first week piling this stuff into separate categories just so I could understand what I was looking at.” Shining noticed that Twilight smiled gently at this.

“Yes, I took a page from your book, so to speak.” Shining walked over to his makeshift desk. “After that, it still took a long time figuring out what I should read more carefully, and what was useless.” Shining indicated a pile of discarded books rather forlornly spread across the floor as though they had been thrown there in anger. Twilight cringed slightly.

“So.” Twilight said, looking back to Shining from the pile of badly abused books. “What is it you think you’ve found?”

“Look here,” Shining pointed with a hoof to a book lying on his desk. It was a heavy tome with a brown cover, and looked as though it had been buried in dirt for some time. There was nothing remarkable on the cover, but Shining flipped it open to its first intact page, and pointed to a bit of loopy script. Twilight inched in to read what was written there. 

“The Account of Archmagus Synnion…” Twilight trailed off and paused for a moment before looking up to Shining Armor, her eyes wide. “Is this right?”

“Certainly seems so.” Shining said, his tone and manner idle for the moment.

“But Synnion was expelled from Equestria! His name is not far below the likes of Nightmare Moon, Discord, and… Sombra.” She bit her lip after she said the last name, carefully observing Shining’s reaction. Whatever she expected, it did not happen. He remained quiet, passively looking back at her. Shining wondered if she had really expected him to go mad at the mention of his name.

“I thought…” Twilight continued on. “I thought all of his works were destroyed.” She looked unsure whether she should even be in the same room as the book in front of her.

“Not this one.” said Shining. “And it seems he had a different viewpoint on the ‘expelled from Equestria’ affair.”

“Well I’m sure he did.” Twilight said pointedly, as though defending her argument. “I’m sure if you asked a lion why they wanted to eat you they would have a different viewpoint too.”

Shining suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Did Twilight believe that? Did she believe so blindly that she wouldn’t listen to him? Maybe it was a mistake bringing her down here… no, she will listen, even if she doesn’t believe me right away. 

“It isn’t that I like what he says. There’s no doubt that he was trying to overthrow the Princess,” Well, that wasn’t quite true, but it was the simple answer. “But the point is that what we’ve been taught might not be the whole truth.”

Twilight did not look convinced. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s true that Synnion left Equestria, we know that for a fact. But do you recall what he was known for?”

“Of course.” Twilight replied. “He was a very powerful unicorn, some say almost as powerful as the Princesses…” Twilight paused, perhaps reminded that that term now included herself.

“Yes, yes, but what magic was his specialty?” Shining pressed.

“Oh, that would be life magic. Or at least, the ability to animate. I’ve heard a lot of arguments whether what he made was really alive. You know some ponies say he created the Ursas?” Shining nodded. “I don’t know whether that’s true or not… he doesn’t happen to say in the book does he?” Twilight looked up to Shining.

Shining shook his head. “No. But it got me thinking. He was clearly a very powerful wizard, surely he had followers.”

Twilight frowned. “Maybe, but I can’t recall ever hearing about any of them.”

“Yes, that’s because when he left Equestria, so did they. All these books,” Shining indicated with a sweep of his hoof, “were written by ponies that were familiar with his name. They reference his work. And not like a Canterlot unicorn would. Just mention his name at a Canterlot school and ponies would look at you funny. Not here.”

“Hmm.” Twilight sat down and touched a hoof to her chin. For a moment Shining was reminded so much of the old Twilight, so easily sidetracked by an interesting line of thought. Maybe she would listen after all.

“And, so many of these books were written by unicorns. That was the second thing I noticed. Sure, a lot of books are written by unicorns in Canterlot, but these all read like they were written by Canterlot unicorns. Except just slightly different, like they developed their own dialect over time.”

Twilight stuck out a hoof, bottom up. “Okay. So you think Synnion came here?”

“No, but I think some of his followers did. There aren’t any more books by him, just the one, the account written before he left.”

“Then where did he go?”

Shining took a deep breath. The scent of mildew was definitely strong. “Well, there are really only two places to go, if one doesn’t like taking a boat.” Twilight nodded at this. Unicorns had never been known for their love of seafaring. “One is here, in the Far North.” Shining could see the pieces beginning to click together for Twilight. “The other is in the south. Tartarus.”

For a moment, Shining thought Twilight could see his reasoning. Her eyes briefly lit up with the insight, but the flash was gone as soon as she looked at Shining again.

“Shining…” Twilight started.

“But don’t you see? There’s the proof right there that Tartarus was inhabited. It’s just that nopony’s been brave enough to find out since Princess Celestia forbade it. And why do you think it’s forbidden? Because that’s where Synnion went! Please, you have to see…” Shining trailed off as he looked at his sister.

Twilight had her head in her hooves. She drew her hooves back through her mane, which had the side effect of dishevelling it, though Twilight did not seem to care. She did not look at Shining. 

Shining realized further argument would not work. He stepped around his desk and hooked a leg of his chair with a hoof. Pulling it out, he settled into it’s familiar confines with a sigh. I should have known. He told himself, and took a turn at hoof-rubbing his own temple. Was I not convincing enough? Or was she just not ready to believe? Either way, it seemed he had lost her.

They sat there for a time, seconds stretching into minutes. It was time Shining spent contemplating how he might reach her, to make her see why what he wanted to do made sense. If Tartarus was a place that could be reached, as he was sure it was, then he had to go. He had to try to find Sombra. He had to try to find a way to save Cadance. 

He glanced sideways at Twilight from under his leg. When he looked at her now, he still didn’t really see a Princess. Of course, she had the wings, though she was definitely not a pegasus. And he supposed she had…vitality... whatever it is that earth ponies have, but he could not see that in her either. To him she was still just his little sister, a long legged awkward little filly. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He asked, quietly.

He heard a long drawn out sigh from her. “Shining, would it matter if I believed you?  I mean, would it make a difference?” She shook her head. “Maybe you’re right about Synnion and maybe you’re even right about Tartarus, but you can’t ask me to take it on faith just to make what you want to do right.”

“Make it right?” Shining looked up sharply. “What Sombra did…”

“I know, Shining! I know.” She let out a breath. “I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong, and that it hasn’t hurt…” she paused a moment, hesitating, taking a breath, “but you’re asking something else. You want me to tell you that it’s okay to put everything aside to go after him. You want me to sanction this quest for revenge!” Twilight looked up to Shining. “I can’t. I can’t watch you… you... kill yourself for this.”

“I’m only asking for a little help.” Shining’s voice was nearly toneless, his stare, flat. “To help right a wrong.”

“I’m not going to give you rope to hang yourself with. I know there are stories about knights who fall on their swords, but you don’t have to!” She pleaded.

“It’s not…” Shining began to say, but Twilight cut him off.

“Yes it is! We all know it!” Her tail swished angrily. “Are you totally blind? You can’t just walk into Tartarus and challenge Sombra to a duel!” 

“That’s not my plan.” Shining rejoined pointedly, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter!” Twilight insisted. “Even if you don’t care about yourself, don’t you care how much it will hurt everypony? No pony is alone in Equestria, least of all you. Everypony in this city looks up to you. Are you going to just abandon them?”

“Enough!” Shining snapped. His ears were pinned back as he snarled. “How can you tell me to just let it go?” 

        “That’s not what I said!” Twilight protested.

        “But it’s what you mean! You think I should stay here, do nothing. I can’t! Cadance means more to me than that. Doesn’t she mean more to you!”

“Shining! She’s my friend too! She’s like a sister.” Her eyes glistened wet with tears beginning to soak onto her cheeks. She sniffed. “Please, there are so many ponies who love you, so many who depend on you.”

“They’ll get along without me. So can you.” Shining said.

“If Cadance could, she’d tell you not to go.”

“Don’t tell me what my wife would say!” Shining snapped.

Twilight cringed away. “Please, Shining. Don’t give up hope! We’re still looking through the archives at Canterlot, we’re finding the best doctors in all of Equestria to help Cadance. There’s still a chance she could get better.”

“There’s only one way she’ll ever recover, Twilight, and that’s if I go to Tartarus—and face Sombra.”

“You can’t know that! What if he lied to you?”

“Then he’ll answer for that, and all the rest.”

“Shining please…” Twilight pleaded.

“I swear to you, this will end with his death, or mine. There is no other way.”

His words hung in the air. Twilight looked at him, her eyes searching his. I’m sorry, sister. The room felt small; he felt the tension in the room as though it was bearing down on his chest. 

“I have to go.” he said, finally,  and turned for the door. He brushed past Twilight on the way out, stepping between books and scrolls cluttering the floor. He did not look at her, but as soon as he opened the door he heard a rustle from behind him. Perhaps she wanted to talk some more He stepped through anyway. What good had they done? Arguing like children. He knew what had to be done, and he would do it, even if she thought otherwise.

As he started up the stairs he heard her calling behind him. He kept going. 

“Shining!”

He took the stairs two at a time. Behind him Twilight struggled to keep up.

“Shining, wait!”

He heard her stumble, her hooves scuffing the stone. He didn’t stop. 

“Shining,” Twilight called, “It’s not your fault!”

Shining said nothing.

“Sombra is evil, you’re right! But you can’t give in to evil!” 

“You think I would?” Shining called back, over his shoulder. He slowed to a steadier pace.

“No! Not intentionally.” She was close enough that Shining could see the lavender glow from her horn lighting the sides of the stairway behind him. He decided to let her catch up. They were almost at the top of the stair anyway, and the door opened into the back of the main hall. Better that ponies didn’t get the wrong idea. He waited at the door for Twilight to catch up before he stepped out.

The hall was mostly empty. Shining knew there would be guards outside the main door, and probably a few ponies here and there, but with Cadance gone there was even less need for cleaning ponies and laundry ponies.

Shining took two paces, then turned to Twilight. He looked in her eyes, and she looked into his.

“Shining, if you go to Tartarus seeking revenge, even if you come back, you won’t be the same. I’m afraid that you’ll lose who you are on the inside—where it really counts.” She stepped forward as though she was about to embrace Shining. 

Shining stepped back, and shook his head. “Twilight, I’ve already changed.”

“Don’t say that. Please, you always have a choice.” She said plaintively.

“Not with this.” Shining said flatly.

Twilight wasn’t giving up, she stood right up to him, stuck her hoof in his face. “If Cadance could see you now…”

“Don’t talk about my wife!” Shining snapped. The anger was back. Why couldn’t she understand? “You have no right to talk about what she wanted!”

“Yes I do! I knew her, and she wouldn’t want you to get yourself killed on her account! No pony does!”

“You know what?” Shining focused on Twilight, his expression a mix of frustration and pain. He pointed a hoof towards the exit. “You can leave. Just go. I have things to do.”

“That’s it? You’re telling me to leave?” 

“Yes, Twilight I’m telling you to leave. Or stay. Either way, I’m going to Tartarus. You can’t stop me. Just leave me alone.”

There was a regretful look in her eyes. “You’re wrong Shining. You’re wrong. I’m sorry…” Her horn lit up with violet light, levelled straight at him. 

“What…” he started. But his cry was cut short by a tremendous crash thundering through the hall. The great doors of the hall burst open and blinding light poured in, white as sunlight on snow.

“TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” a royal voice boomed out.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight turned, and the light in her horn dissipating into nothingness.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, you know better than to cast a spell on your own brother.” Celestia’s voice was reproachful, though as Shining had always heard it, gentle and controlled.

“But…” 

“I know, Twilight. But you are a Princess now. You must know when to interfere, and when to stand aside. I know it is difficult when the pony is someone so dear to you as your brother, but it is a line we should not cross.”

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be this hard.” Twilight said, her ears dropping. She rubbed a leg over her eyes, over tears that had not dried.

“We can always hope for the best, Twilight, but we may only guide, not control.” Princess Celestia looked to Shining. “This does not mean I give you my blessing, but if you insist on going then you may go. I cannot take your fate in hoof, it rests with you, and you alone.” The Princess stepped back, looking up towards a skylight that opened up to the rapidly dimming sky. “I sense that a dark end may await you. Yet, it is not your only destiny. As Twilight said, you have a choice before you, and you must choose your own path.”  

Shining bowed his head. “Forgive me, Princess, but I have chosen my path.”

Celestia’s eyes met with Shining’s for a moment. She inclined her head slightly, but said nothing right away. Try as he might, Shining could not read her. Her inner thoughts were an enigma, as they always had been to him.

The Princess turned her gaze to Twilight. “Twilight, would you give your brother and I a moment alone?” She gently asked.

Twilight blinked. “Yes, Princess Celestia.”

“Thank you, Twilight.”

Twilight shot a glance towards Shining, then walked to the other end of the hall, and out the tall double doors. As they swung shut once again, Princess Celestia turned to Shining.

“There are things you must know, Shining Armor, if you plan to go to Tartarus.” Her voice was quite serious, but not accusatory. Shining was a little taken aback.

“Forgive me, your highness, I had expected you to argue with me to stay.” 

Celestia showed him a small and mirthless smile. “I would but for the look I see in your eyes, the set of your ears, and the feeling I have in my heart.” Celestia sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment before continuing on. “You know that we should seek harmony, to be at peace with our fellow equines, and the world around us. Harmony is balance, purity, truth. Yet harmony cannot always be maintained.” She looked down. ”When I banished my sister Luna to the moon, harmony was broken, yet in comparison to what would have happened had I not sent her away, the outcome was better. Balance was restored.” Her gaze on Shining was intense. A lump formed in his throat, he wanted to look away, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on her. “You too have a choice, Shining.”

He swallowed. “I have to go. Cadance means the world to me. She was my balance, and she was taken from me— from us all— by terrible evil! If there is any way to save her…”

“And take revenge on Sombra?” Celestia asked evenly. 

Shining hesitated.

“You do not want to say it, but I fear it is true. Vengeance accomplishes nothing. It can only lead you astray.” Celestia said gravely.

Shining remained silent a moment before answering. “What am I to do then?”

“Stay true to the spirit of harmony. Never give in to the emotion of hate. I urge you, Shining, if you must go, then you must, but always remember: balance. And love. Do not abandon love.”

Shining nodded solemnly, the moment seeming to stretch out in time.

“Now.” Celestia took a deep breath. “As I said, there are things you must know, things which I have endeavored to keep secret, in order to protect Equestria. The realm you know as Tartarus is one of them. It was once known by another name, a long time ago. Then it was renamed again, when a band of unicorn separatists broke away from Equestria.” Celestia paused for a moment. “This, I believe you already know,“ she said with a small smile. “They sought to create a utopia, a place where magic was interwoven with the fabric of life itself, and not just here,” Celestia indicated her pointed horn. “or here,” she raised her white-feathered wings. “... but everywhere, throughout the land, to the very rock on which we stand. Their leader, a great wizard in his time, crafted new spells, with the power to give life to artificial constructs.”

Celestia paused. She had begun to pace, but she stopped, and sighed. “It was for this reason that I was forced to expel them from Equestria. Their spells of unnatural life had the potential to upset the balance of magic and nature in Equestria.”

“That was many centuries ago. I had hoped that one day Equestria’s wayward unicorns would return, and harmony could be restored. In time, the Crystal Empire, founded by a scion of the wizard’s followers, rejoined Equestria. Their magic had turned to crystals, and I thought it less dangerous than the first spells.” Celestia seemed strangely earnest, as though talking about what had happened was a relief to her. But her expression soured. “Then, a great evil emerged.”

“King Sombra.” Shining said quietly.

“Yes. Where exactly he came from even I do not know, but his magic manipulated the artificial life of the crystals, corrupting them, and enslaving all ponies to his will. It took nearly all my power to send the Crystal City away, to serve as a prison for the evil King. At the same time, the realm to the south, beyond the great badlands, became known as Tartarus, for none who ventured there ever returned.”

“Sombra was not from Equestria, nor was he from the Crystal City.” Celestia paused, looking Shining in the eye. “Combined with the silence from the far south, and the fact that he knew how to use the life magic so effectively, we realized he must have come from the realm of Tartarus. We assumed whatever pony civilization that existed there had fallen under his sway. And so Tartarus was sealed. Forbidden.”

Celestia looked away, and resumed pacing. “Few ever remembered what had been before Tartarus. Memory faded to legend, and legend to myth. Now Tartarus remains guarded, but nopony remembers why. I was content to keep it that way, but now…” Celestia paused for a moment. The air seemed thick with revelation.  “Now Sombra has returned. I had hoped you and Cadance had defeated him forever, with the power of your love. But… he survived. His power in Tartarus may still be strong— you have seen how long his creations can endure here.”

“If he regains his old power, he could threaten all of Equestria.” Celestia looked directly at Shining, her gaze commanding, rooting him to the spot. “This is what I ask of you: If you choose to go to Tartarus, whether you face Sombra or not, you must return and tell us of what you find. Do you understand?”

Shining nodded stiffly.

Celestia’s eyes lingered on him. Her expression softened. “Shining, I know you do not expect to return, but have faith. Even if you do not feel strong, have faith.” Celestia stepped towards Shining, and raised a hoof to point at his chest. He had rarely been quite this close to Princess Celestia before. “Let your armor protect your heart, not seal it away.”

Shining nodded, though his ears were flagging down, and Celestia stepped back and turned for the entranceway.

“Wait!” Shining called out.

Celestia turned. “Yes?” She asked gently.

Shining cleared his throat. “Your highness, why didn’t you say all this in front of Twilight? It will be harder not to tell her now that I know.”

Celestia gave a rueful smile. “I feel the same way sometimes, keeping secrets, but If I told her, she would insist on rallying her friends and going to Tartarus on her own.” She shook her head. “I fear that a direct confrontation would bring great harm to all Equestria. If there is a way to avoid it I will try. You are intent on going to Tartarus anyway, you have the skills… and most importantly you need a reason to find your way back to Equestria.”

Shining blinked. “Are you saying you want me to choose between fighting Sombra and warning Equestria?”

“If the two are mutually exclusive.” Celestia smiled. “I told you you have a choice. To you the choice is not to stay or go, it is to live or die— and I want you to choose life.” 

She turned, and left Shining alone in the lantern-lit hall.