If you know your enemy, and know yourself, your victory is without doubt. They did not know their enemy, and perhaps they did not even now themselves. Now the Card Master will seize that opportunity to bring harmony out of chaos.
Pick a card.
What do you see, when you look into the cards. Stories? Lessons?
We stand at the edge of an era, Princess.
Look deeper into reality and you will find our truths and knowledge are not what we think it to be. How do we know things? Why are we here? The purpose of life and death and cards are always questioned.
Princess, I want to take you there, to where we find meaning. I want to take you to a place where life is vibrant and death is a gateway. It's always a gateway, path, portal, or doorway. All stories have change, and with change they are loved.
It's something we always have. Why, What, How. How is the hard one. I mean, What, that's easy. What are we doing? What do we want to talk about? Living. Life.
Now Why, now that's a bit harder.
Why do I want to write this?
To make the audience think in a certain way.
But How, how is tough.
How does this make you feel? How does it do what it does?
How is filled it more questions. Take a card, for example. What is a card? A piece of cardboard, with little pictures and numbers. It's the center of this story's conflict, and embodies so much more.
Why use cards?
Why be cards?
Because cards are so much more than the picutre. Tarot cards, little pictures of characters, tell the story of the life that reads it.
We know what, we know why. But, how do we tell the story?
The fool is drawn from the deck; perhaps this pony is starting a new stage in life where he or she sees the world with new, innocent eyes, like a fool. Or death, the "sinister" changer of the world; when one dies, a story ends, but all the little side characters to that story continue on. They still have to be part of other stories, including their own.
We walk through a world of Hows, and Whats, and Whys. Twilight, don't you ever have questions about knowledge?
You seem like a learned pony to me.
What do we know about the world? Why is it important to know such things?
Twilight shook her head. "Every night we do this, and every night I refuse. You disappeared after my encounter with your perversion of Princess Luna, and now I'm free."
Perversion? Hm...
She walked around the dreamscape. Luna, of course, knew what Twilight faced every night. Even now, two months later, they have not found the source of the Card Master's haunting nightmares.
The words of the Card Master drowned out as Luna descended from the moon, watching the dream from high above. Twilight could smell the coarse sand in the wind, and watched as the cold air stood up the hairs of her coat. It was an effect of the magic, the Card Master's and Luna's. Whenever she entered the scenes changed, time and cards and dreams and nightmares spiraling around each other.
In the dream world, Luna might as well have been the God, a firm hoof over the reality of the mind. But even here, the Card Master matched her power almost equally, and he too had an aura of omnipotence.
"You're learning well, Twilight," Luna said, waving her horn and dispersing the phantom of the Card Master. "Soon enough you will have total control over your dreams."
"Thanks, I'm trying," Twilight replied. Two months ago, Luna began training Twilight in the ways of her dream magic. It was impossible for Twilight to reach out or manipulate dreams as Luna could, but within her own dreams she could learn to become all-powerful.
"More than just trying," the princess replied. "No pony else, save my sister perhaps, has ever achieved this level of control over their own dreaming."
"So, what's the next lesson? I'm ready to learn how to put the Card Master to rest." Twilight pumped herself up, it was calming being a student again, learning a whole new world of skills, but Luna put up a hoof.
"There is nothing left but to practice, and to heal," she answered. "There are two parts to control in the dreaming world. One is your magic, which you have learned to control with finesse. Your technique is strong, but without power or familiarity you will have to converse with the Card Master every night. You have trained so that you can get the technique right, now you must practice so that you can't ever get it wrong.
Twilight nodded. "And the second part of control?"
Luna continued. "The other is your mind. The Card Master has left memories you cannot shake. This is now a part of you, one you cannot shake. You will not gain strength by finding ways to avoid him, the magic will only fester like a wound. You must confront this reality every day, not so that you will get used to it, but so that you can face the memories and overcome them."
"That sounds like dwelling," Twilight said, then asking, "Haven't you gotten over Nightmare Moon?"
Luna thought for a moment. "Yes, and no. I do not let it hold me back from the future, but I have not forgotten. Forgetting would be to deny a part of yourself, a part of your growth. You may one day understand that you have overcome adversity, but that is pointless if you become desensitized to the adversity itself. Own your mistakes, confront them, and overcome them. But do not let go."
Did you know there are only a limited number of stars in the universe?
Astronomers in Canterlot have always known this, and seem to make it essential to count all the stars to find the biggest one, or the strangest one, or the oldest one. Celestia-113 they named it, the biggest star they found. Two hundred years ago they said it was the biggest star, dwarfing all others they had seen before.
"A red speck in the sky" they called it, "ten times as big as the previous largest star." Back then they must have had interesting ideas, don't you think? They didn't even know that the sun, too, is a star. Exactly the same, nothing different but a few details.
They spent their time, one pony after another, finding the most precious stars, yet ignored the one closest. Every year the books would change when some astronomer decided some stars were worth knowing about, and the others weren't.
Perhaps we have a fascination with the lights in the dark. We fear the dark, yet it makes what little light we have so precious. The tiny twinkles, each a grain a sand, yet there are more stars than there are grains of sand. There are more stars than ponies walking Equestria. Is it their numbers, the empty vastness they alone seem to occupy?
If so, why do we classify them? Red, white, blue, yellow, giant, dwarf. Are we fascinated by the light? Look up at the night sky, the clear sky untouched, and watch one. It calls to you, and you begin to wonder at its cool glow. From here we know nothing of the unyielding power of the stars, we think of their cool breeze and silent nights.
Sunset's boots stopped their pace, holding her still in the middle of the school parking lot as she looked to the place she parked her car, where she brought extra supplies to decorate the gym for the Fall Formal. Graduated, being an alumni was worth the time spent.
Across the field of concrete and foliage of parked cars, she could spot him standing by her car. Sunset knew him with the same familiarity that one has when they learn about something they had only vaguely heard before in passing conversations or off-hand remarks.
Because he stood straighter than the light posts around the car park. Because even though he wore a grey t-shirt and hoodie, with plain blue jeans and a navy blue baseball cap, he looked inhuman. School had just started, but it was still summer, still hot. Walking closer to her car was a wade through a swamp; heat danced between cars and across Sunset's face in distorting waves.
She liked her leather jacket, but in this weather Sunset dressed with her shoulders bare to the sun to see.
His face--he didn't have one. His head shifted without moving, in tandem with the heatwaves. The fabric of his clothes, stiff rubber soles of his shoes. They trembled Sunset. But running away wasn't her. She walked up to him.
"It's not possible." She stood ready, tense, no more than two steps from the door of her car. An arctic breath wrapped Sunset for but a moment, and behind her he stood with a deck in his hand.
Pick a card.
Sunset stepped back, her hand reaching for her car. It connected with her hand, not by touch, by the energy of heat overflowing from the metal shell of the machine. "She told me about you, you know. Twilight's thorough with her letters, there's not a trick you can do that I don't know."
Don't be so sure.
Sunset squinted, her face kissed by the evening sun. A certain breeze, Sunset knew it as the same kind that blows over the top of the school, where'd she'd sometimes go and sit to do homework, legs dangling over the side of the building. She looked out at all that was touched by the sun, feeling the breeze again.
You're are like your mentor. Though the Sun doesn't quite have the same charm as you.
He stepped closer, and Sunset could smell his breath if he had one. Instead, there was only the faint scent of paper, a newly printed book opened for the first time. An assortment of cards brand new opened and laid out for all to feel.
"You're here because of the magic gemstones, aren't you?" Sunset grabbed her necklace, focused on the gemstone that adorned it. He looked only for a second.
I'm here because I want harmony. Your friends stand in the way of that.
Stone and magic and fist broke through his body, reaching to the dizzying cards and sticking like the warmth that still lingers on the skin of the cars. He looked down at his chest the same as Sunset. She grasped her necklace, gemstone tightly swaddled by her fingers, and connected her mind to his.
"No more games," she said. "Threaten my friends and I'll show you what I can do."
What are you willing to see?
Lights on the face flickered fast, a deep sea show performed by troupe of bio-luminescent creatures.
An endlessly vast and consuming Here all things reside,
it is here I am
I see your kind.
reality in white forms a part of your world yet far removed from its existence.
Think of a shadow
rearranging patterns
earth pony magic
on a piece of paper, like a flat world.
The
friendship magic, have interactions, and from them comes changes
to reality. There are no fragmented thoughts here.
But of course, none understand the depths of
It's created by something else, but it doesn't know.
It can't conceive the object above it, a higher form.
infinity. Yet the shadow exists Can you see the interaction now?
Changing reality, you call it magic. Chaos magic, , unicorn pegasus , all the same.
from light, interacting with a something.
"Stop!" Sunset pulled back, shoving him in front of her car. She turned and opened her car, the lock sensing her keys and responding loyally. She drove forward through his scattered cards.
Push the stone up the hill as much as you want. It will always want to roll back down.
Drama Crest shuffled a deck of cards in his hands, occasionally drawing one out, folding it, and putting it into right pocket of his hoodie. He sat down in the waiting room of the music studio.
There were a few rooms, four, soundproofed and filled with music. Teachers guided their students as they tentatively followed the notes, not yet able to follow their hearts. A little girl with purple hair stepped out of one of the rooms, saying goodbye to the brightly-dressed teacher, whose guitar seemed indefinitely fixed onto her hands.
Drama Crest let the cards slip from his hands and walked over to the teacher. The cards fell into the earth and nobody saw them. The teacher was just about to turn back into her room when he greeted her.
"Hello, I was wondering if you had a spot available for another student."
The young woman beamed. "Actually, I've had a lot of free time lately. That little one that just left is my only student right now." She gestured inside the small room, pointing to one her many guitars. "If you want, you could have your first lesson now."
He nodded and walked in. Stepped in, rather, as the room had just enough space for two to sit in. Surrounding the chairs were stacks of music scores, some in published books, some handwritten and unfinished in fat yellow folders. There were instruments too, symbols and flutes and a large goblet drum, but mainly there were guitars.
Drama Crest picked up an acoustic guitar. Along the binding were engravings, simple pictures of everyday things. A balloon, a diamond, a butterfly, an apple. And there were some other one he couldn't immediately describe. There were two other acoustics and three electric guitars hung on the wall, but none were as ornate as the one he held.
The pick guard was alive with detail, little gold patterns of flowers broken from their stems and drifting the electric air, inlaid under a protective coating, their rich yellow light a stark contrast from the dark wood material the pick guard was made from. The beauty had nothing to do with sight. It hummed and ate into his hands, sentient to the touch, letting its desires fertilize his flesh.
"That one's my favorite," the young woman said, gently taking it from him. Drama Crest read the engravings on the other side of the backing, a name that continued after the engraved pictures as if the letters, each with a different color to make a rainbow, were just a series of images. "I had it custom made for myself, so it's not going to feel as nice in your hands as one of the other guitars would."
Drama Crest nodded and grabbed one of the other guitars, its lifeless corpse cold in his hands, and grabbed one of the many picks strewn across the floor. "So, how do I start?"
"When I was a kid, my cul-de-sac was mostly adults. All my friends at school lived too far to play very often, so I had a dog and a cat to keep me company. Oh, and an aquarium too, which I watched about as much as I watched television."
The zookeeper was soft spoken, but Drama Crest could read her energy like a book. Her body language, the way she sat up as he told his story, the lengthened intensity of her gaze: passion.
"Your resume says you studied zoology." She continued the interview with renewed interest. "What was your favorite part about the subject?"
Drama Crest looked closer. Her hair was brushed very well; she repeated her routine three, no four, times. But he judged her nails as well, rough from working with the zoo animals with nail polish chipped at the edges. She didn't brush to look good for someone else, she brushed for hygiene. Three different types of animal fur in her hair, despite her efforts.
Two of them possibly from the zoo, not the other. Some kind of rabbit hair, satin or snowshoe, or the hair of a house cat. Neither were present at the zoo. Conclusion, pet lover as well who identified with his story. Introverted, slightly lonely childhood, he assumed. But to an extent.
She wore a shirt today; it was designer, too expensive for a zookeeper's salary, at least not without some saving. A friend got it for her. No. He looked over the stitching again. Hand made by a true talent, so the friend was both skilled and deeply caring. Stains on the shirt, deeply fading from painstaking efforts, showed repeated use; the condition of the shirt and the stains proved she care as much for the shirt as the giver. No longer lonely.
Drama Crest smiled. "I studied abroad to observe prides of lions for about a year. My professor sent me to a colleague of his who worked on a reserve that had three prides and many known lone males. I was fascinated at the cooperation the females of the pride had, but also admired their capacity for independence, which I first noticed when a male lion from outside the reserve somehow found his way in."
"That sounds nice," she said, taking note on a clipboard. "Well, that's all the questions I have for you, unless there's anything else you have to say, I think we can finish here." She looked at the clock to her left. "And before lunch, too."
Drama Crest fidgeted in his pocket and retrieved a pack of cards.
"There is one last thing." He shot the cards out from their prison and into his other hand, cutting and shuffling the deck as easy as breathing. The cards spread like peacock feathers in one swift motion, revealing their backs. Colourful. Vibrant. Powerful.
He placed the card on the top of the deck and shuffled, until its diamond backing disappeared among the other designs. It would not be found, unless it wanted to be.
Below, the still childhood of the sister and friends played out and remained in time just as their memories.
"So, what's the trick?" she asked, looking at the deck. "Is the one where you guess the number I'm think of?"
"Seventy-nine," Drama Crest said, and the young seamstress scrunched her face.
"Well, I must say, you're terrible at the guessing game. I was thinking of forty-two." She returned patching up the tear on Drama Crests jeans; the knees were terribly torn. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a new pair? There are plenty of designs much better for working than these atrocious things."
He looked down at his spare pair of trousers, khakis that itched against his legs sometimes when he sat. The pockets were uncomfortable, too spacious and letting his wallet and phone dangle around. It was tied to his body with a belt, not fitting right, and entirely a separate entity from his being.
"Sorry, I was talking about the number your sister had on her mind." He stepped aside and gestured with his hand to the door, where the sounds of eager footsteps could be heard from outside the work room.
"We won the prize sis', we sold the most boxes of cookies out of all the teams! I thought seventy-nine wouldn't be enough, but can you believe no pony else even sold fifty?" The sister scurried off as quickly as she came, rushing out the house with her friends to claim tickets to a live Coloratura concert.
She set down her needle and thread, her mouth ajar. "That was simply div-"
"Don't say it," Drama Crest interjected as he walked out. "Please."
"Wait, where are you going?" She got out of her chair and followed him out. "It'll only take a minute to finish patching up your jeans."
Drama Crest saw himself out through the door. "I have someone I need to see now, I'll stop by for it later today." He left her speechless, rudely leaving like she didn't matter, nothing more than a tool to fix a tear in some denim.
"Well then," she huffed, pacing back upstairs to her workroom in a quickened pace, rather upset. "If you're going leave your stuff hanging around my boutique then you'll have to wait like any other customer."
She picked out another unfinished design, a bright pink dress to match her friend's joyful personality, and began to work. But she stopped short at returning to her desk. There, where the jeans were, was left a note instead. She stood and stared, looking around for the jeans that were not there, leaving the half-sewn pink dress and its sketches on the carpet of the work room, another piece added to the mess.
You fixed it up nicely. Rather, you will fix it up nicely. Thank you.
"...after that I'd go around town, go to four or five spots, just some small shows to prep for the main performance later in the evening."
"Wow! Sounds like a doozie," she said, caught in a net of astonishment and amusement. "How'd you get that kind of passion for comedy to work so much?"
"Uh, from being poor, mostly," Drama Crest answered. She smelled of cotton candy and frosting, though the latter was more a result of her job than anything else, he suspected. Her laugh was joyful, a kind of sound that didn't just react to happiness; it was filled with it constantly and yearned to be shared.
The door bell ringed. Rung? Rang?
"Oh, that must be Sunset," she beamed. "She's the serious one I told you about. Blah blah blah, magic this, portal that. Ah! I bet she'd love to see some of your cards tricks. But make sure to make the joke that goes with it extra, extra funny."
She got up and hopped out of the living room, her puffed up hair bouncing with her, seemingly moving like an entity of its own.
On the glass coffee table, beside the television remote, a half-eaten doughnut, and a soda can, the gem hummed with immense power. He reached and picked a sprinkle off the doughnut.
The gem was one with magic, and vice versa, connection across worlds and infinite in possibilities. A countable infinity. He observed the sprinkle. Hidden under the color of pink, bonds of power waited patiently to be broken. As was the case for all sweet things.
"You sound like you're having fun. Hope I'm not intruding on something." Sunset's words came with her around the corner and froze together at the sight of him. "Pinkie Pie, how did he get here?" She didn't reply.
A familiar sense passed over Sunset; the world stood still and all things did not matter except her. An uncountable infinity of events halted in their steps and trained their eyes onto the one who wielded their will.
"What have you done?" She grabbed her friend to shake her, but nothing changed. She had to wake her up, but she reached and reset and reached out again.
Drama Crest was as he was but she could see the dance beneath. She knew him, the magic, and its feeling penetrated her like a weapon, a spearing embrace.
He walked nearer. Slowly and with time on his side. At the edge of the living room they stood and he watched her with amusement as though she was a pet trying to figure out some intricate game the master had prepared; taking his hand and placing it on her face to calm her, he spoke in resonant whispers.
She, of course, refused. "I studied with Celestia once, you know. And I've learned from Twilight too. So don't think for one second I can't hurt you back."
"My dear." He lowered his hand down to her neck. "I haven't done anything."
"You bastard, you have my friends, I know it."
His fingers were cold against her sun-kissed and warm skin, but she couldn't shudder when he reached for her gem. Sunset wondered why she could speak but her friend was petrified in time.
The gem was a little sun in his eyes and glinted seductively with magic. He laughed at the poor thing. "Such power yet I have no interest."
He held the gem around her neck in two fingers, turning it and letting it reflect the sunlight. Evening swam into the house wearing orange and red silks so entranced dancing covered the walls.
He breathed her in. She smelled of sweet pea flowers and lilac fragrances. "You went to a garden? Or maybe a florist."
She didn't know what to do but stare as he continued. His hand was on her gem but also her chest, cold heartless against her warmth and beating life. Thump thump.
"You want to know about your friends, but I can assure you they are fine." He held up a card, its back marked by a pink balloon. "She is here, in this room with us, but in this card as well."
He turned it, and she saw what he meant. Reality folded in on itself. There Pinkie stood, held fast in the grips of time, with Drama Crest and Sunset. In the card's image he held the same card, and with focus she could see the magic continue on and on.
"They are trapped within their cards but the cards are all their stories in this world." He slipped the card back into his pocket. "Now you see, and you can help me with harmony."
Sunset spat in his face, the only thing she could do. "I told you already, I know you. Twilight wrote to me about how you infested her mind. I saw your thoughts, and I can't forgive you for what you put into her head."
He dissolved his body, flesh made into air and cards, but held Sunset tight. His cards, body, wrapped around her -a constrictor. Like a second skin that wasn't hers he covered her, squeezing hard on every inch and curve of her body. Then let go and appeared behind her. He was as she knew him, formless given form.
Though faceless she felt his breath against the back of her neck, a soft breeze made by fluttering cards. His hands were still cold, and this time she could shiver as he held her tight, grasp sliding down her outline and trapping at the waist.
"Let go, now."
No, I don't think I will. The moment for you to serve harmony is at hand. You will listen because you must.
"Unfreeze me and I'll show you how much I'm willing to help," she growled. And then she could move again. Still wrapped in his arms, but free to struggle, she twisted her body and ripped herself from his grip.
But he stayed on her, and as she turned to strike him he pressed her up against the wall, cold fingers fixed to her lower back. He kept his grip on her fist, even as she flailed with the other he needed only to disperse his head and she struck air.
Slowly and forcefully, fighting her resistance, he pressed her hand to her chest, cupping the gemstone she wore between their hands.
You wanted to see, before, but you were lost in a night fog. I will guide you.
Tick tock, tick tock. We think of time as this sound. Starswirl did the day he woke up and began writing his time travel spell. Tick tock gave him the idea. Around and around like the hands of a clock, always coming back to where it began. Even the sound is circular, the tick and the tock in equal halves, balanced in their repetition. One ends, only to begin the other.
It made perfect sense when Twilight used the spell, now that we see it. Starswirl saw time's cyclic nature, and thus the spell created a loop in time. She traveled to change the past, but the loop was set and her actions only returned to the start of the cycle. The end became the beginning.
What an age he must have thought he lived in. Every great thinker thinks so.
The zebra must have thought her time was the end times, the great epoch of Equestria. When the Queen came, and her minions subverted the world, she explained to Twilight that time is like a stream, linear. Every little action changes the eb and flow of the water. What happens downstream is dependent on what happens upstream.
Starlight wanted to live in the loop, but didn't know what Starswirl had known. She lived through changes, from her loss of friendship to her leadership, and so time could not form a loop. How could it, when whenever it curves away from connecting itself when she changes? Perhaps she knew this, perhaps she didn't, but her life had always been the path forward.
The changes she made shifted the stream of time; her spell didn't know how to form the cycle, and thus is swerved and twisted, like a wave moving through a string.
Time can be a line and a circle, cause-and-effect and destined to happen. I cannot make sense of this. Do ponies not live in a life of choices? When Filthy Rich married his wife, he made the choice, and altered the path of the line. And then from that sprung Diamond Tiara, who teased and taunted and teased and taunted. But now not anymore. How can time be both? Do you see the pattern?
The first Caller is thought to be a rich and revered stallion, based on the pictures of gold and fine silks the crystal ponies had in their books. Twilight once spent a weekend in the Crystal Empire and read all about Caller Weaver, and had the same impression as the rest of the historians.
He wears large, heavy, silk robes and sits on a golden throne in the pictures and books. In the texts, he ate feasts that lasted days, cleverly managed his consumption so that he could enjoy as much as possible without feeling terribly bloated.
He achieved his position as a religious leader among early crystal ponies for his hard work. Back then, things were not easy. Storms, cold and biting, left little in the way of crops. Caller Weaver, then known as Reed Weaver, was said to have plowed his fields early every year so that he could help his neighbors, and his neighbors' neighbors. He preached cooperation, the scholars now say.
They grew crystal berries, and for a time, crystal yams. Nowadays there are no more crystal yams, and the cause remains a mystery to even the most learned scholars. But what they do know is that Reed Weaver's strength was valued in early crystal pony society, and it was Weaver's unending mission to stamp out laziness within their society so that his kind would always be hard working folk.
I knew Caller Weaver when he began building a following. He lived near the marketplace, but he was no salespony, no hard worker. He wandered the streets, going from stall to stall, with a basket on his back. When ponies were generous, they'd give alms, and then he'd have money to buy food to eat. When no alms were to be had, he'd sit in the market square and pray, thankful for the strength to persevere.
"Why are you praying?" he was asked one day, by Hammer Heart. She fashioned jewelry, and hammered silver ingots into shining bands.
"Why are you praying?"
He told her that he was thankful for all he had, and then resumed prayer. Some days, Caller Weaver would craft a new basket, and offer it to the ponies in the market. Some pony would offer to buy it, one whose shop was cluttered and overflowing with products. But Caller Weaver never accepted any money for services.
Hammer Heart joined him in prayer one day, thanking him for his gifts. "Who should I pray to?" she asked him.
He did not know, and told her that for years he had prayed, never hearing a word back. She guessed it was a test; no pony would dedicate their life to nothing. And so day after day, she joined him for prayer and lunch. Hammer Heart was regarded as a skilled jeweler, and respected among the crystal ponies of the marketplace.
Very soon, more began to join. Some were poor merchants, their businesses sinking, and sought solace in Weaver's wisdom. Others found misfortune in other ways, injuries and sickness, and sought the miracles of magic. Caller Weaver could only offer them prayers.
When he admitted to Hammer Heart the truth, that he had not heard answers to his prayers, she was understandably furious. Her diaries, the last of which was later burned by the rule of King Sombra, noted how his following dwindled very quickly when she shared this. But, to her surprise, a few remained.
Hammer Heart could not comprehend this. Perhaps a dozen still prayed endlessly with Caller Weaver, sending their words to the empty nature. Perhaps they were picked up by the icy storms, or perhaps the cold froze their words, so that they could not reach a higher power, but for whatever reason, Hammer Heart knew their faith did little but waste time.
Five thousand years old, the oldest tree is. It predates the rule of the Two Sisters.
Trees and their forests are vital to Equestria, their leaves breathe in the air we breathe out, and their shady branches protect sensitive creatures from the harsh sun above. It's true; the undergrowth of jungles and forests have adapted to the dim lights of the sun. They have grown used to protection from the leaves above.
And, this may be the most interesting part, the forest does not behave like a cluster of organisms. It grows, it itself being one thing, alive. The squirrels and the bees move pollen and seeds, they carry them to new areas to be planted, an expand the forest. Sometimes, the forest eats, swallowing migrating birds, curious cats, hungry bears. They become food for the forest, living in and being a part of the organism, growing it.
Five thousand years ago a squirrel planted a seed, and the forest swallowed just the right birds, and the soil drank just the right rain. A strong, healthy tree grew, letting the lichen slowly grow on its bark. They decomposed all things and fed it back to the tree, which grew. A bear would perish in its old age, and be swallowed whole by the lichen and the roots.
And then the tree would make fruit, fruit who bore seeds and hitched rides with birds and squirrels, squirrels who carried the seeds farther and planted them in rich sunlight, so that the forest may grow with it. But the forest could only grow because it swallowed the right bird, who carried the right seed, which drank the right water, and met the right bear.
The Hunter woke with a start. She remembered flesh tearing, armor breaking. Both her own.
Another nightmare. Monsters surrounding her, their faces blurred. Only their claws were clear in her mind.
They were becoming more frequent. Ripe Apple's family orchard was the place The Hunter needed, both for the winter and for her life. The stallion was a gentle soul, helpful and caring for nearly all folk, mutant or not. She looked back to their bed, watching Ripe Apple resting from an exhausting night.
She enjoyed his other qualities too.
She picked up her sword and stepped outside onto the porch, moving her body through the motions drilled into her from her earliest memories. Adopted by monster hunters. It made family dinners very awkward.
Her old mentor, Guerrier, was the only pony who ever accepted her invitations to family diners in the winter. Aunts and uncles, cousins of all sorts, they'd flock to their relative and gawk at the mutants who had joined their family tradition. The last time they ate together, she overheard an old mare, a distant aunt, reassured by Ripe Apple's mother than it was just a sign of gratitude and friendship.
She made a mental note to send the wedding invitations written with extreme detail.
She moved through six more techniques in what appeared as a single, long fluid motion. Properly warmed up, she rested her sword on a wooden bench on the porch and began tending to the grape vines.
Ripe Apple's family were farmers, but they were by no means the same crop as the bumbling country-folk Twilight was used to dealing with daily. Their orchards grew sweet grapes for refreshing wine and crisp apples for cider. When she finally settled in, Ripe Apple and his father added a private cellar to their farm. They saved the best brews for special customers or Twilight. It was usually Twilight.
In all her years, Twilight believed the big capitals of Equestria's many kingdoms were where the best drinks were held. Never had she ever tasted finer wine than the kind Ripe Apple's mother could make. Petite Sirah was, in Twilight's mind, a goddess of wine.
Twilight walked through the rows of grapes, giving extra water to the plants to make up for the dry season. She walked calmly in the fields, but she could hear the silent steps creeping through the vines. Her mutant magic fortified her senses, and let her hearing pinpoint the location of the sound.
Two stumpy legs. A djinn perhaps, they enjoyed grapes and wine as much as she did.
Scratch. Scratch. Claws, so perhaps a lesser demon. No particular reason for a demon to be drawn to grape vines, aside from the chance to catch an unsuspecting farmer.
She didn't have her sword, or any amount of night silver, to combat whatever lurked in the vines, but her horn bristled with energy as she tracked the creature's movements. She waited for it to draw near. She waited, and once she spotted it through the vines, she launched a barrage of energy bolts.
Magic rippled off the creature, and it burrowed into the rich farm soil. Twilight felt the ground. She was the hunter, and knew her prey. A Long Clawed Field Demon, grey, with short and powerful legs combined with long, slender forearms. A rare creature to come across.
Perhaps it was hungry, or perhaps it was bored, but either way she would remove it from the farm.
Before it sprouted from the ground, Twilight was already on top of it, her magic making a barrier above the demon. It squirmed and turned to retreat into the ground, but she bit its tail and yanked it from the ground and into the air. She blasted more magic at it, but the demon was fast, its claws digging into the dirt as it sprinted away.
"Perfect," Twilight sighed. Her senses were sharp, but the monster knew it had been spotted, and knew it couldn't win a fight. She'd have to hunt it down if she wanted the beast out of the vineyards.
Guerrier chuckled. "Best monster hunter ever known. How long have you been trying to catch this demon?"
Twilight scowled. "Four months. It's fast, faster than most."
"Must be pretty old then," Guerrier said. "I can sympathize with it."
"Stop complaining," Twilight retorted. "Potions have kept you young. Well, young enough."
Guerrier scanned the fields, trying to ignore her remark. "Hear anything?"
"Just the wind in the leaves and grass," Twilight replied.
"Then we still have some time before it senses the bait." He leaned back, resting on the branch. They were both perched on an old apple tree that overlooked the farm and its vineyards. They could see Ripe Apple and his parents repairing the hole in their home after the last fight they had with the monster.
The demon had burst through the window with such forced that the dragon head mounted above the doorway tipped over, tearing a chunk of wood with it.
"Glad you came for the winter," Twilight said as they waited.
"Family troubles again?" Guerrier asked.
Twilight shook her head. "Nothing more than usual superstition. It's just that the wedding's this spring, and no pony else has replied to the invites."
"Yet," Geurrier added. "Can't speak for all the friends you've made over the years, but Highsight and Lander have always been there for you. Just because a letter can't be mailed back doesn't mean they won't show up once the snow melts."
"You're right," she replied. Down in the farm, a glow came from the far end of the grapevines. "See that?"
Guerrier looked. "Yeah. That's a lot of magic. I wonder what it's doing."
"Why don't we go ask it?" Twilight said. They leaped down from the tree and made for the vines, as Twilight silenced their movements with magic.
The demon was feeding on a dead rabbit, using magic to turn the flesh into a digestible paste.
Twilight could feel the magic through her horn, and it almost made her dizzy. She grabbed two bombs from her saddlebag, both filled with shards of night silver, and rolled it toward the field demon.
Guerrier lurked behind the demon opposite Twilight, keeping his sword ready in his hoof. Twilight drew hers too, but she grasped it with her wing.
With both hooves free, she slammed her horseshoes into the dirt, the magic glyphs inscribed on them flaring with power and sending a ripple of fire spreading toward the demon.
The heat may have been intense, though hunter glyphs were still far weaker than the fire magic she could cast. But the last thing she needed was a fire in the vines. The bombs burst from the flames, scattering night silver across the dirt. A lot of the shards struck the demon, and it shrieked as its magic was forced away by the night silver.
The demon was old, and infused completely with magic. It could not abide by the touch of night silver. So it tread carefully, aware of the night silver on the ground, and backed slowly away from Twilight.
Guerrier launched a flurry of blows once it stepped to close to him, burning the demon's hide with his sword.
The steel blade, forged with night silver dust running through it, tore into the demon's magical aura. But even without magic its body was naturally strong. The rough hide was barely scratched by the attacks.
Twilight shouted to Guerrier to be wary and he rolled away from the demon. It turned to Twilight, but was it was too late.
She levitated darts of pure night silver from a pouch by her saddlebag and launched it at the demon. It tried to dodge, but only managed to get the darts stuck in its back.
Twilight pounced on the demon, ramming her sword down to break its leg. Even with five darts sticking from its back, the monster was surprisingly agile, and it leaped out of the way and onto Guerrier's face.
Its short snout bit viciously, tearing at his neck and cheek. While it was distracted with him, Twilight swung the flat of her blade and batted the demon off.
Guerrier reeled back from the hit as well, but was more relieved to have the monster off him. The demon lunged again, and this time Guerrier spun aside and cut the demon out of the air as it passed by. The blow was powerful, flaring bright as more magic was forced out of the creature, but it still landed on its feet and fled.
Twilight had gone around and waited for it at its usual escape route. She hid behind an illusion spell, and thrust the tip of her sword into the demon's eyes as it ran right by her.
The shock of magic repulsed by the night silver undoubtedly blinded the monster. She pivoted her blade around and cut it twice, before it jumped back to recover.
Then the demon screamed, amplifying its voice with magic. The shrill shockwave in the air burst Twilight and Guerrier's ears, and they both collapsed on the ground. It jumped on Twilight, its long claws digging into her armor while its unnatural strength pried apart the leather and chainmail.
Guerrier bucked the monster off Twilight and lunged at it before it could recover and slashing its across the jaw. The demon slashed at him, but he leaned back and let the monster throw itself off-balance with its heavy strike. He clamped his jaw around the slender neck of the demon and twisted, his hooves forming circles in the dirt as they spun, until Guerrier brought the monster back down, planting the monster's head into the ground.
Twilight recovered and helped restrain the monster. She struck her sword into the demon, its skin burning as magic was driven away from its body.
However ancient the creature, its magic had a limit, and between Guerrier and Twilight, they had drained it of its power. Regardless, the monster's muscles were taunt fibers packed with power.
It squirmed under the force of the two monster hunters, writhing until one of its slender arms whipped from the ground and slashed Twilight across the jaw. Guerrier thrust his weight into Twilight, moving her out of the way of the second strike aimed for her throat.
He ducked and brought his blade up to the monster's neck, finally piercing a weakened spot in its natural armor and bursting through the bottom of the skull.
He twisted his sword and wretched it out, severing the head completely. It thudded on the ground, and after a few seconds, the two hunters thudded on the ground as well, winded from the demanding hunt.
"You've lost your touch," Guerrier said, breathing heavily.
Twilight smirked. "And you've let age get the better of you. I guess we've both gotten a bit sloppy."
Guerrier got off the ground just to sit by the demon's body and appreciate the kill. "You're right. Potions or no, I need to retire."
"Extra hooves on the farm would help," Twilight replied. "Besides, I'm sure there'll be the occasional monster that strays in and out."
"Me? I'm a city-colt," Guerrier answered, "I think the long quiet days and nights on the farm would drive me crazy."
She rolled her eyes. "And yelling preachers and merchants brings you peace?"
Guerrier simply shrugged. "It's an acquired taste."
A clock would tick on and on and on, endlessly, if there was enough power to keep it running. I have a pocket watch -beautiful piece of work from the Griffon Kingdom ages ago, I wish you could see it- that moves its arms because of the tension in its springs. Other clocks nowadays tick by on batteries, and carry much more power with them than a spring.
I spent time watching them, how they moved with the cadence of time. The touch of the softwood rims on the battery powered clock, the smell of cold brass, the gentle burn as moonlight reflected down my sight, made me wonder at the craft behind making clocks.
A pocket watch maker in the first century of the Two Sisters spent a year creating a watch for both the Princesses. A gift in reverance of their power. In the spring and summer, the Princess of the Sun's watch was made, adorned with gemstone flowers, silver and gold trim, and a complex heart. The heart was a set of gears, ticking and when wound in complete order.
A silver watch, for the Princess of Nights, made in the fall and winter. It seemed like he captured leaves in the moment they fell from the trees and put them onto the edge of the watch face. They danced and flowed, eternally trapped in time, while years ticked by around them. The watches worked for a century until the parts began to wear. But the watch maker was not eternal like his devices.
He created the watches, and with their springs and power, they lived on their own. He needed not touch a single gear. What pride he felt, as a creator of such a masterpiece. Is that what it would be like, to be the Almighty?
Many cultures through Equestria's history have had stories, all different, but sharing the same reverence for the power of creation. Some pointed to the Crystal Heart, other to the Tree of Harmony, and some even to the Princesses themselves. Ponies worshiped these idols -they still do, wouldn't you agree?- and sought many things. Salvation, purpose, guidance.
They ask why there is evil in the world, when we have idols of love and goodness. Chefs do not devour their own meals, artists to not purchase their own paintings, and our watch makers to not tamper with the tick tock tick tock.
The three races put faith into the Two Sisters when they rose to power. They did not know what they would be getting, and many of them doubted things would change for the better, but nevertheless they had faith.
Do you think they will bring peace? I once asked. "I do not know," was the usual answer.
When Caller Weaver first heard the Tree of Harmony call to him, he thought himself insane. His whole life he had prayed to nothing, but then he had a whisper. He could pilgrimage, but he did not know where to go. He could tell his friends, but what would be the point? It was just a whisper.
You must begin it.
Finally, after ten days and ten nights of confusion where he heard the voice over and over and repeating the same commands of beginning, Caller Weaver established the first tradition of his faith and pilgrimaged to the top of the highest mountain in the Crystal Empire.
Outside the magic of the city, the cold storm battered him, chilling his skin and bones, and all the while he doubted he was even climbing to anything.
With him in his basket he carried alms he had collected that day, a generous gift with enough hay to last him three days.
Seek out Harmony
First, Caller Weaver fasted for a week while meditating. Sometimes he heard a voice he did not think was the Tree's, other times he'd hear bits of words uttered, an incomplete thought given breath.
You
Here
should find truth?
and, tranquility
After that week, he ate a day's worth of food and looked out over the horizon from the top of the mountain and thought to himself, which he had become an expert in by that point, about how beautiful the snow was when the sunrise shined its first light onto the snow to make the sharp edges of ice and snowflakes sparkle like the night sky.
He repeated this, fasting week after week with a day of relief. Until all the food was gone. And the voices too, had stopped. Why had the words of Harmony left him, he wondered. The first week the commands were clear, the voice in his head as real as the shouting of merchants in the sprawling market.
And by the end of the month, he felt his doubts confirmed. The Tree of Harmony had not spoken to him, he was a lone pony. He wanted a holy life, helping how he could and getting help from those around him.
He had truly believed he would have answers for why he felt the way he did--blindly living to his own doctrine regardless of what he saw. He knew he was a poor stallion, but he always believed he was rich in companions, and rich in faith. He wrote that on that mountain, he believed to be rich in madness.
Voices speaking that others did not hear, hearing words that only gave answers to his questions, questions he had secretly felt he had the answer to. He must have been mad, he thought. He didn't hear the voice of his faith. He only formed a voice that would confirm what he believed.
Caller Weaver, the most influential religious leader in the Crystal Empire's early history, stood atop the mountain and contemplated suicide. He had lost his mind and heard the voices, and it was a matter of time before he descended deeper into his madness. He absolved himself of fear, and accepted it would be easy to step off the zenith.
Then he found his answer. Just as it says in his memoirs, he heard a voice behind him. Young, gentle, and divine. But also familiar.
"What are you doing? Just... come back to the market, the others are still praying." Hammer Heart told him. She had followed him, and found him at his lowest moment.
He writes that later he contemplated why it was her. Hammer Heart cared little for his directionless faith, and there were others who saw him as a sage and certainly would have joined his journey. But when he returned to the market square, he found his answer.
They had an unwavering faith in him, a kind of fanatical faith, and believed with absolute certainty that he would return, enlightened. For Caller Weaver, he was not so sure. Was it an act of a higher power that drew Hammer Heart when he needed, or a coincidence of extreme convenience?
Despite continuing to lead the faithful crystal ponies, he himself was steeped in doubt.
The last major pandemic ended forty years years before you, and long before you quit this world for the other. A mutation of a common griffon virus transformed an annual nuisance for the feathered felines into a national panic with scars that linger.
A griffon by the name of Nestley visited Manehattan thirty years ago for a business trip. He was intent on getting into the pillow manufacturing market. Without his knowledge, however, his body bred a weapon nature would use to exact pain upon just over one million souls.
It took only five minutes after some random point mutation on a lucky virus to spread. Nestley hailed a taxi, and spoke to the driver on the way to his first meeting. He paid, reluctantly of course, in bits. Bits he had held for some time in his claws. Claws that were inevitably infectious, because anti-bacterial gel does not kill a virus.
It took sixty hours for the bit virus to infiltrate its host. He drove and ate and spoke with no symptoms that day. In an hour he drove dozens of ponies from street to street. By the end of his day forty-seven ponies had successfully carried on the plague. In twelve hours each of those ponies transmitted their virus to their families.
Twenty of them had fillies and colts who went to school. Twenty-nine young ponies needed only half a day to spread the virus to nearly a hundred others, who then returned the virus to their families. Over two hundred infected became one thousand the next day. Little less than a week later symptoms began to occur.
It took less than two weeks to put Manehattan in a panic. By the end of the month two riots had turned Sixth Street into a cracked an broken ruin, all for vaccines and antibiotics. There was no actual treatment, but fear speaks louder than reason.
Quarantine efforts were labelled "too harsh" too late. A complete travel ban was put in place the same day a pony in Fillydelphia coughed at a train station. Sixteen hours before that, some foal, named Pepper Jack or Roquefort or something like that, at a park up in Cloudsdale touched every piece of the playground with mucus covered wings.
The joyful hubris of a foal spread the griffon virus to thirty percent of the Cloudsdale weather workers in thirteen days ; by then Manehattan had been in a state of emergency for five days, with makeshift hospitals starting up in empty schools and on the streets. This was only about six weeks in, give or take.
It would take ages to trace every branch of a tree.
When Cloudsdale Rainworks shut down it was seven weeks in. The first casualty was a pegasus who coughed blood out on the streets until he rolled over and died. Panic rippled from the majestic flying city across every grass and pebble in Equestria. Riots and fighting peaked like never before.
Ponies with shared interests started linking with each other; reporters from half-destroyed newspaper companies, police officers, conspiracy theorists -they all had their own version to tell. Ponies turned on each other.
The poor blamed the rich for withholding vaccines they did not have. The rich feared the infectious masses would encroach on their safety in isolation. Doctors who relocated to Canterlot were labelled cowards, and it stained the trust between physicians and patients during the pandemic.
It took half a year. Many survivors developed a rudimentary immunity, while a working vaccine was finally synthesized by scientists and doctors hoof-picked by Celestia to work safely in the royal palace.
1,200,000 deceased from a virus that got lucky and took the path of griffon, cab driver, parent, filly, school, city, cities, Equestria. Inexperience weather workers left the weather management industry a wreck for the winter season.
Not enough rain, poorly timed snow, and too many clouds to handle became a nightmare for farmers when spring came about and they had to wait a month for the weather ponies to finally control the mess they were dealt.
That left Equestria's market with less produce and smaller crops. The recession was as much a symptom of the virus as much as coughing and dying was.
We live in a tree.
The branches can either bear fruit, or its leaves can contract disease. Don't say there is no choice, that outbreaks are inevitable. I know you better and you won't let it stand. The outbreak is beyond control for there will always be mutation; the pandemic is a choice. Either allow anthracnose to swallow up your tree from leaf to trunk or trim it before the sickness even touches the branch.
What if, all those years ago, Equestria had spent more on its information? What if the public and private sectors worked closely together even before the crisis, and kept regular updates on the vaccine?
What if doctors around Manehattan, and across Equestria, could communicate cases instantaneously, or fast enough, and recognize the first signs of a new disease? Equestria's branches are constantly growing.
This world is more and more connected every day, and you can either let that be a conduit for destruction as the country did forty years ago, or take hold of it and prepare a path to stay protected.
Starswirl the Bearded once studied light. He was a brilliant wizard, and had learned many things even outside the realm of magic. At one point, exactly when doesn't really matter, he began to understand the idea of relativity, using that fact about the natural world to know what effects his magic would have. He once studied light, and, finding that the results confounded him, began to rework his understanding.
For a time he studied science exclusively, developing techniques he used personally that wouldn't be rediscovered and introduced to the scientific community hundreds of years later. He found a tiny particle, a photon he called it, and observed its behavior with math and magic. He once wrote that he learned to create photons as well, using only the smallest amount of magic possible to create the amount of energy possible.
Light speed was the limit, he concluded. The mathematics revealed to him why; any object with mass gains mass -and thus inertia as well- as it approaches light speed, and for any object with mass to reach light speed would require an infinite amount of energy.
He did not revisit his investigations until much later, when the thought returned to him in a dream he could not remember. What would it be like to travel near light speed, he wondered, and returned to his math. He worked hard, but try as he might it seemed the answer eluded him. For a time. He fell asleep one afternoon, and saw visions of the answer before him.
In his diary he wrote what he saw:
"A figure of a stallion, whose body was fluid, able to bend appeared to me in my sleep. I wasn't sure what else was happening in my mind, it was all a blur to me, but in my sleep I solved the answer to the problem. I had the numbers, but until now I did not know what they were for. I can now imagine time and space as a fabric, one which can warp to the whim of gravity."
He went on to solve the mathematics. Time and space was able to bend, and at light speed, that's what they did.
He wrote:
"If I were to place myself upon a boat and sail around the world near the speed of light, lifetimes could pass by without my knowing. But what of the photon? If I could talk to a piece of light, what would its perception of time and space be compared to ours?"
Light wouldn't, he concluded.
That is, it wouldn't have a perception of time and space. Take his example, and imagine the boat. A day on the boat could mean year outside, when you're going slow. When you're faster, you could shorten the time. An hour could be a decade. And when you're even faster, a second could mean you've missed the birth and death of your grandchildren.
Starswirl thought on this, and realized you could measure less time on the boat and still measure more time outside of it. And, in agreement with his math, he realized that at the speed of light, the impossible happens. Zero time on the boat could equal all time outside of it. Zero equals infinity.
And as time and space are linked, the same holds true for space. To a light particle, nothing happens. There is no space to move in, and no time to experience. A photon experiences the beginning of time to the end of time before it can feel the passage of a single second.
Starswirl finally wrote his conclusion, answering what a photon would say to him in a conversation:
"In the morning, if I were to greet a photon that had just arrived from the Sun and say 'What a quick trip, you traveled one astronomical unit in about eight minutes!' the photon would be confused, and reply, 'What do you mean? I thought I traveled no distance in no time.'"
She woke with a start, another nightmare. Ripe Apple slept soundly beside her. She got up, admired the fine weather, and picked up her sword to practice out on the porch.
All the same.
She passed the crib of the young one, a mutant like her, and set her sword back on her weapon rack. Guerrier was already in the fields, picking the grapes, and enjoying quite a few sweet ones himself.
"Time for breakfast Cheese Wheel," Twilight whispered to her little colt. "Who wants some mashed blueberries?" The young pony open his eyes and smiled at his mother.
While they ate breakfast, Ripe Apple slept off last night's party. All sorts were invited to celebrate the coming of summer. Highsight and Lander arrived, as did many other monster hunters, who all put off the Ripe Apple's friends and family. Nevertheless, by the end of the night, they all enjoyed their share of rye and wine and ale, and returned to their beds to await the morning's consequences.
Highsight and Lander stopped by from an inn to pick up Guerrier after breakfast. "We're heading out to look for the Ichneumon cave," Highsight said. "Feel like taking a break from domestic life?"
Twilight looked to her sword and saddle, and then looked at Cheese Wheel. Ripe Apple hadn't had much time to spend with his son the past season. Thanks to the unusual weather the apple farm and grape orchard needed extra care. She picked up Cheese Wheel from his chair and carried him back upstairs, letting him play and crawl on top of his father. In moments, the colt's hooves trampled Ripe Apple's face and startled him awake.
"Me and the other hunters are going to hunt the Ichneumon that's been attacking the village," Twilight told him as he roused. "Watch Cheese Wheel for me, we'll be back before lunch."
"Okay sweetie," he mumbled, uselessly trying to stop his son from sitting on his head.
The hunters met at the village a few miles from the edge of Ripe Apple's orchard. There were two other hunters, Night Eye and Sharp Tone, waiting for them at the inn. Night Eye was a master from the Murder of Crows, and Sharp Tone was Twilight's sparring partner from her time with the Discipline of Mutants. Both had hunted with her before, and over the years had become some of her closes friends.
"Didn't think you were going to show, Twi," Night Eye said. "Figured you had yourself wrapped around your new stallion."
"She's just sour because you have a happy life," Sharp Tone chuckled. "We both knew you couldn't turn down an Ichneumon hunt."
"Glad to see you both," Twilight replied, patting them on the back.
Night Eye and Sharp Tone both hugged Twilight, though their attention quickly shifted as Guerrier came closer to greet them.
"No fucking way," Sharp Tone whispered to himself. Night Eye held the same astonishment. "Are you really him? Master Monster Hunter Guerrier, of the School of the Cynogriffon, is it really you?"
"Just Guerrier, leave titles to kings and nobles," he said, shaking hooves with both of of Twilight's new friends. "I've heard a bit about both of you. Night Eye, was it you who brought down a High Fiend simply by poisoning its food source with wolfsbane and night silver?"
Night Eye nodded, glee clearly on her face.
Guerrier turned to Sharp Tone. "And you trained with Twilight at Bach Kha'mohrgen. After she told me you hunted a coven of vampires, I was so impressed I half expected you to have a horn to go with those wings."
Sharp, unable to handle a compliment from a legendary monster hunter such as Guerrier, simply laughed and sputtered incoherently.
"Huh, Twilight was right, you would get along with him Lander," Highsight said. "You're just like him."
Lander scowled and playfully pushed Highsight away. "We can chat on the hike to the cave. Unless there's other business to deal with, I suggest we go before the Ichneumon becomes active."
Sharp Tone snapped out of his daze and looked to the edge of the village. "Speaking of other business, we actually might be held up for a day or two." He pointed to a camp near the horizon. "Outside of town there's an army camp, garrisoning troops in this region until a commander can bring in a proper reinforcements."
"War still going on between the Far Coast and the High Mountain?" Twilight asked.
"Your orchard has to be as remote as you say it is," Sharp Tone answered. "The war's only gotten worse. The High Mountain Kingdom had a failed coup six months back, staged by a small group of horned mutants. Now the king's doing everything in his power to root out his enemies, even where there are none to be rooted out."
"So we just avoid the soldiers," Highsight suggested, "stick to the woods like we always do. No chance normal scouts can keep up with us."
"True, but they're already scouring the forests for refugee mutants and monsters," Night Eye added. "Anything that threatens the king is a target."
Guerrier nodded his head and looked to Twilight. When she had no idea how to tackle the problem, he stepped in. "There's six of us, all monster hunters on a contract issued by the lord of these lands. If they fought us, we'd win. If they arrested us, the lord would demand his contract be fulfilled, and no army would send their troops to kill an Ichneumon when six hunters are already ready to handle it."
"Wouldn't want to cause trouble, but Guerrier's right," Twilight said. "We have a job to do, and the law gives us reign over our trade."
They all agreed. Dealing with hostile ponies was a daily routine for monster hunters, especially for mutants like Twilight and Sharp Tone. They all knew how to weasel their way out of the grasps of ponies who cared for nothing but their own desires. Many a town speaker have seen the glint of steel when they tried to cheat a hunter from the agreed sum.
They hiked up the hillside, moving through the trees like the breeze they followed, swiftly avoiding any troop patrols who would waste their time. The longer they were out, the closer they approached the monster's active hunting time.
"Never actually hunted an Ichneumon before," Night Eye admitted once the ridge was in sight. "Though I've been told they're tougher than High Fiends."
Guerrier paused his pace and looked at a small clearing the trees. "There's some rootmoss and blackcaps here. Know a potion that'll mask our scent enough to sneak up on the Ichneumon."
"Blackcaps are good reagents for poison," Night Eye added. "Let's brew what we can before we trap ourselves in the cave."
Lander looked down at his hooves. "Wish we had more horseshoes. Fire glyphs won't do well if the Ichneumon hunts dragons."
Guerrier shrugged. "It's not like we're at Bach To'ral. We'll make do with what we have, as always."
"Twilight and I can still use some blasts to shield and push," Sharp Tone told them as he drew his sword to sharpen. "Once its armor's broken, fire shouldn't be a problem."
"If its armor gets broken," Highsight replied. "Don't underestimate mud. It gets all over you and makes it hard to see and move."
"The cave is probably where it digs up minerals to add to its fur," Twilight guessed, looking around. "There's no water near the ridge, and not enough rain to keep the ground muddy enough."
"Damn," Night Eye said. "I hate wet places, it never works in our favor."
"Killed an Ichneumon once because I knew where it'd go for mud," Guerrier started to tell, "we could do the same thing, watching for its source of mud and strike whenever it tries to retreat."
"One thing's for sure," Twilight chuckled, "this'll be enough to want domestic life again."
Twilight ducked under the monster's tail and rolled to the back of the cave. Guerrier and Lander slashed at the Ichneumon's side, but their swords barely cracked its armor.
Ichneumon were monster hunters themselves, resembling massive mongooses. Mud was their camouflage, and their armor. The monsters hated dragons, often competing for prey and territory. But while Ichneumons were large, they were still dwarfed by adult dragons.
Nevertheless, their mud-coated fur let them use their size as a weapon, squeezing into a dragon's throat as it opened its jaw to breathe fire, and burrowing its way out from the stomach. Its cunning, speed, and power was the envy of many monster hunters.
Using his wings, Sharp Tone clung to the stalactites of the cave and dropped bombs and magic crystals onto the monster's back, many of which bounced off and damaged only the stone walls. Night Eye played a similar game, dancing outside of its vision, slashing it with poisoned daggers and scattering toxic powders into its nose.
The monster weaved through the cave structure, it slender cat-like body darting between alcoves on the wall and slipping behind large stalagmites on the floor. It came up behind Highsight and bit her by the hindleg, throwing her into a pile of crumbled stones. Sharp Tone glided down and caught Highsight at before the moment of impact, but they couldn't avoid crashing into the ground, Sharp twisting a leg on the impact.
Twilight charged the air with magic and pulsed a shockwave through the cave, pushing the Ichneumon into a stalagmite. Lander and Guerrier both slammed their hooves into the ground, the magical glyphs etched into their horseshoes flaring with energy and sending two streams of fire at the monster's fur hide.
But the Ichneumon was a hunter of dragons, and its hide was covered in clumps of moist mud that protected it from the flames.
Night Eye scattered a cloud of toxic dust, made from dried herbs, into the Ichneumon's face. It reeled away, scampering up the cave wall with its powerful claws digging into the grooves of the stone. All the hunters saw this and threw explosives from their saddlebags, the combined explosion shaking the cave slightly.
However the Ichneumon was faster, picking up on their movements and leaping down onto Geurrier before the bombs could go off. The old monster hunter grunted from the weight of the beast, but his armor kept most of his bones intact. It was Lander who faced difficulty, knocked back from a crack of the monster's whip-like tail.
Highsight and Sharp Tone tried to flank it, whirling their swords to distract the monster while Night Eye and Twilight charged its neck. The Ichneumon was quick to react, spinning around and leaping away from their blades. It dashed back and forth, clamping its short, jagged teeth into Night Eye's shoulder and flinging her across the cave.
Twilight rushed to reach her, but even a coiled viper was slow compared to the Ichneumon, and it bit her by the neck and threw her against the wall. It turned back onto Highsight, who had tossed two bombs and blew chunks of mud from its body. Sharp Tone spun his body to pick up speed and thrust his sword into the monster's thick hide.
Mud still caked its fur, but Highsight's bombs had softened an area of the armor just enough for their blades to bite the skin. They struck, surprising the Ichneumon into retreating up the walls of the cave. It lunged back down, but this time they were ready, and the two hunters rolled back and let the monster hurl itself against the stalagmites.
Lander helped Guerrier up onto his hooves. They leaped into the fight, trading blows with the Ichneumon along with Sharp Tone and Highsight. Between the four of them, they stepped in and out of the monster's reach, keeping its attention shifting between them.
None of them could avoid the monster's teeth, however. With every blow they landed, the Ichneumon delivered a bite, tearing into tendons and muscle. Highsight clutched her shoulder and fell back, bleeding and blackening the stone with blood, a slick black from the cave's dim light.
Guerrier parried the monster's bite by swatting its head with the flat of his blade and rolling aside. Lander and Sharp Tone moved too, keeping the Ichneumon penned against the wall.
They were close, Lander nearly sliced open its neck with his sword more than once. But a cornered monster was a dangerous one. The Ichneumon panicked and rushed Guerrier, biting his sword and tearing it from his hooves. He retaliated with a shot of fire from his glyphs, but it might as well have been a cool breeze to the Ichneumon.
It snapped at his head, missing only at the last moment as Guerrier ducked and thrust his sword up into the monster's neck. Twilight, recovered from the impact against the wall, blasted it with magic, keeping the monster unbalanced while the rest of them pierced its hide with their swords. Now it slowed.
Night Eye, who lay badly hurt across the cave, still managed to throw her bombs to distract the Ichneumon. While flashes from explosions blinded the beast, cuts slowly opened its hide. Twilight and Guerrier pressed the hardest, their blows striking the same place on the Ichneumon's neck. Its hide was thick and almost as hard to pierce as dragon scale, but dozens of strikes from the monster hunters' sharpened blades forced open a gash of blood.
The monster flew into a frenzy, tearing at Twilight's saddlebags and armor, scattering all sorts of potions, bombs, and herbs on the cave floor. Shards of night silver peppered the ground as well, but the hunters' horseshoes kept their hooves from cutting against the metal.
The same could not be said for the Ichneumon. It was not a magical creature, yet the night silver was sharp and dozens of shards prodded its hide repeatedly. The distraction lowered its guard, and Twilight struck at the gash in the Ichneumon's neck. So did Lander, and Guerrier, and Highsight, and Sharp Tone.
They stopped only once they were sure the beast stopped breathing.
The cave still echoed with the final sounds of battle. "Nice work," Night Eye muttered from her side of the cave. "Now does any pony have a spare dose of a healing potion?"
"Right here," Lander said, pulling a flask from his saddlebag.
"Though, I thought the rumors said Crows drank poison to heal," he teased as he handed it to her.
Night Eye took it and drank, before replying. "Sure, and Cynogriffons are always perfect, aren't you?" Lander simply nodded, and she scoffed humorously. "Arrogant pricks."
"Hey, least you're not freaks," Sharp Tone retorted to the both of them. "Then again, you'll never know what it's like to glide off a mountain."
"Show off," Lander replied.
"Alright, that's enough," Guerrier said. "I don't want to be in this cave any longer than I have to. Let's get the head and collect the reward."
He pulled a knife from a pouch inside his armor, a serrated blade coated in pure night silver, and cut into the Ichneumon's hide. It split slowly, its blood wetting the cave floor and turning it into a slick, black puddle.
"Damn, can't ever get used to the smell," Lander said, spitting in disgust. The rest agreed, covering their noses. Once they had the head, they left the cave and went straight for the village where a representative of the local lord was to give them their money. They didn't look for any of the army's scouts, and they didn't have to.
Twilight's ear could pick out the sounds of hoof steps trailing behind, but the scouts likely smelled the pungent blood of the Ichneumon and reeled back, judging by the sound of their hooves.
She woke with a start, another nightmare. Ripe Apple slept soundly beside her. She got up, picked up her sword to practice out on the porch, but paused. No, this was the nightmare. She turned and he stood right by where Ripe Apple was, though her husband had disappeared.
The landscape darkened, only slightly, as if a swath of clouds had just blocked the sun. From below, sprouts of black fog poked through the ground, like tendrils, though none were more than an inch tall.
"Most times I can't tell if I'm dreaming, or if you've altered reality," Twilight said.
Its easier to talk without any distractions.
The Card Master had no eyes, but a slight tilt of his head toward their bed was enough.
However, it seems family life hasn't stopped your hunting. Planning to set an example for your children?
"Can we cut to the chase?" she grew uncomfortable with the Card Master in her home.
No. There's so much to catch up on. Perhaps we can do it over a game of cards?
Twilight glared at him. "I'd be an idiot to play your games." The Card Master shrugged and walked past her, going downstairs to the kitchen. He sat on the chair and put his back hooves up on the table.
Shame. I'm told you have a good poker face.
"You don't have a face at all," she replied, following him to the kitchen. Though every pony seemed gone, Ripe Apple and Cheese Wheel were no where to be seen and no pony was working in the fields, everything else stayed the same. Twilight grabbed a bottle of wine, uncorked it, and poured two glasses full.
A bit early, don't you think? Not even noon.
She set one glass in front of him and sipped from her own, swirling the drink around in the air with levitation. She took the seat across from him and watched. "Whatever you have to say, this is going to make it better." She drained the glass to half.
I don't know what you expect me to do with this.
"I want to see if you can do anything other than talk," she answered. The Card Master looked at the glass curiously, Twilight assumed he did by movement of his head, and lifted it to where his mouth should be. The wine spilled through his head, seeping through the thick, ever moving, ever changing amalgamation of faintly glowing cards.
Twilight listened, waiting to hear the wine dripping onto the hardwood floor, but at some point the wine must have stopped, because she heard nothing. "Start talking," she finally told the Card Master.
It's a little tart. I think I might prefer something sweeter. I hear you have ale made from honey.
Twilight teeth grinded at the Card Master's small talk. "Not the drink. What the hell are you planning?"
Luna and Celestia always try to kill my fun.
The Card Master sat silently, though his body looked like he had breathed a deep sigh.
I'm trying so hard to keep the peace, you know. Balance is not an easy thing. The natural order of all things, including evil, must be achieved. I want you, or rather the Princess, to understand that. But she won't listen to the cards. I may need to tell her myself.
Twilight shrugged and pushed aside her glass, now empty. "If you want something you have all the power to make it so. Why is the Princess such a problem."
She must choose. That is how this ends.
The Hunter, who had never given a thought to the wishes of the Card Master, paused to consider what he had planned. To choose. From what she understood from the last game with the Princess, he didn't believe in choosing. The cards were countless stories, all stored up and permanent, even if you could enter a world and affect it, it was still somehow meant to be.
"How will she be able to choose?" The words, leaving her lips, made the Card Master smile. He didn't have a face to grin with, but he didn't need one. Twilight could feel it.
"Step out from your fog. I will not ask again." Princess Luna shined her horn in Twilight's dream, but the black cloud surrounding the true scene ate the light so that it was darker than space.
Do you not have faith in the Princess?
Luna didn't bother looking for the voice. She knew the Card Master could play tricks, even in the dreaming world. She shuddered to think what else he could do if they were in the waking world.
"She's stronger than you. She has mastered dream magic and defies all your attempts to assert yourself over her mind. And she does this every single night." Luna saw the cards flash out from the darkness and blasted a bean of magic at it. The Card Master moved through the beam, dancing narrowly around the beam of magic like leaves in the wind.
He reformed beside Princess Luna and spoke calmly to her. The fog around them began to settle.
I'm am curious. What do you believe I intend to do?
Luna scowled, and kept her magic ready to disintegrate the Card Master. "Do not act like we both don't know. I can feel your presence looming over her. She fights you in her dreams but you remain while she wakes. It is known in the waking world that Princess Twilight is suffering from exhaustion and depression. She gets nothing done."
At least Equestria has a new savior, or so I hear.
Luna's face twisted into rage and she struck the Card Master immediately. "Speak not of Starlight!"
The Card Master hardly seemed fazed by the blow, but dropped down to the ground anyways. Luna stomped on his back, pinning him down. "You cannot have them! The defenders of Equestria are protected by the Tree of Harmony and myself."
She leaned her head down and whispered into the Card Master's ear, her coat blackening and pupils a vertical slit. "That sham copy of me cannot save you," she hissed quietly.
The Card Master softened and turned into a pile of cards. They slithered and climbed over her until he reformed on top of her. With surprising force, Princess Luna was shoved back down to ground. The fading black fog suddenly disappeared into the soil, revealing the scene Twilight was dreaming.
She was reliving her time captured by Chrysalis, paralyzed and forsaken, terrified of being helpless.
There are consequences to your power.
Luna growled at him, but he was right. Twilight was sleeping peacefully because the Card Master was distracted with their conversation. By revealing just an ounce of the remains of Nightmare Moon's power brought out Twilight's most recent fears. Any more could cause drastic terrors.
But the Card Master waved his hoof and the nightmare simply collapsed. Grass grew in its place, trees sprouted in seconds. All of creation was at the tip of his hooves. He turned Twilight's dreams toward the Everfree Forest, where she dreamed of peaceful days when she could study foreign potion and magic from Zecora.
Princess Luna shoved the Card Master back and stood. She looked through the trees at Zecora's hut, and caught glimpses of Twilight smiling. "You're worse than Discord. You live only to infest and torment the minds of others."
I assumed you would be happy that I have given the Princess a good night of rest.
"Deceiver!" She beat her hoof into his face, but the cards simply fluttered around the blow. Luna grunted as she punched the tree behind him. He stood there, with a hole in his face to make room for Luna's hoof. Her anger subsided and turned to resignation, she knew he would only ever be struck if he willed it.
"I know you don't care for her," Luna sighed. "You give her a moment to breathe just to drown her again. Why?"
Shtock,
Luna glared at the Card Master. "Silence?"
kakh ala bemakhshava lefanai.
"This is how I see things," she repeated. Slowly, her lips curled, forming snarl.
"This is how you see the world?" She threw her hoof in the air, pointing to Twilight's dream, where she practiced simple spells with Zecora like levitating water and conjuring stones.
Luna hissed. "You let her live a happy moment, just so her guard is lowered, and then you strike. You torment endlessly in a cycle, and then you turn around and call it 'Harmony.' If this is part of Harmony, then Harmony is evil."
Very true. But when have I ever said I wanted pure good? It is needed.
The Card Master waved his hoof and collapsed the dream back into the ground, bringing back the pitch black fog.
Sadly, it appears time has passed us by. Daylight is breaking, Luna. Your power here is waning fast.
Luna wanted to drive off the Card Master with a burst of energy, even if the effects would be temporary. But she couldn't. On top of proving to Twilight she needed Luna's direct intervention -thus damaging her confidence to fight the thing himself- she could feel the tethers of Twilight's mind thinning, weakening her magic. When Twilight woke, she would not be able to hold a stable form in her mind.
"Don't think I won't be watching you," Luna warned as she reluctantly let herself fade from the dream.
Twilight rose slowly from her bed and went downstairs and picked up the mail. She called for Spike and asked him to get Starlight ready to leave immediately.
I will enjoy watching you piece together the Broken.
She heard his voice in her head but ignored it. She needed to focus.
Sunset drummed her fingers on the edge of the counter waiting for Drama Crest to finish his meal.
"You look disgusting eating that," she said to him.
Drama Crest wiped his mouth and looked at his hands, greased clean and shiny. He picked up three fries, and with ketchup, stuffed them in his mouth.
He disregarded Sunset's remark and bit into his burger again, dripping sauce from the patty onto waxed paper. "Doesn't everyone, when they eat these things? I don't get out much so I wouldn't really know."
Sunset turned away and looked out the window of the restaurant. Fast food chain, she thought. Calling it a restaurant gave it too much credit. She was forced to listen to the crunch of the burger's lettuce as she watched the cars move by across the window. Being with him didn't make it better at all.
She felt the gem hanging on her necklace, holding it between her thumb and middle finger while her pointer finger ran along one of its smooth flat sides. If only she was fast, like Rainbow's, for strong like AJ's, maybe she could get away.
"The things you showed me," she remembered as she touched her gem, "the stories Twilight's dreaming about, what are they? I never studied Caller Weaver."
"You couldn't have," Drama Crest wiped his mouth. "Nearly all the texts, original and copies, were destroyed. Those that remain sit in the Crystal Empire, a place that didn't exist in your time."
"Have you ever considered that maybe your 'harmony' isn't something meant for us?" Sunset asked bitterly. "I don't like you messing with Twilight's head. What will happen if you're aiming too high, and all the targets on our heads are waiting far below your shot?"
Drama Crest turned to the cashier taking an order from some Canterlot High freshmen. "Did things begin to fall only when the people it effected were aware of gravity?"
Sunset scoffed and rolled her eyes, still staring out of the window. "Gravity doesn't have a personality. Or a face."
"Nor," Drama Crest corrected. "It's 'nor' when you have a negative clause."
Sunset furrowed her brow and turned her gaze back to him. "Who are you, my English teacher?"
"Anyhow, it matters not if harmony is for you. I will act as I have."
Drama Crest shrugged and looked down at this tray, a field laid bare littered with titans once cradling the heart of life.
"Why do you think magic exists?" he asked from no where. He crumpled up slick fast-food waste and tossed the wrapping away. Sunset got up from her seat and followed him reluctantly.
They walked down the street toward Canterlot High School. "I don't know. Who says there's a reason anyways?"
"The second law of thermodynamics states that reactions tend toward chaos and disorder in a closed system," Drama Crest explained as they crossed the street out of the commercial district. "It take energy to create order. The sun, for example, gives life to this rock when there should be only lifeless madness."
"And magic?" Sunset asked. First English, now thermodynamics out of no where. If she didn't think him utterly insane, she would have laughed at the thought of her teachers and Drama Crest being one and the same. "How does that come in?"
They passed many stores on their way out, a couple bus stops too. Sunset wondered if he could follow her if she simply hopped on a bus and fled, but continued to walk until she could see her former high school.
"You do not want chaos. Neither do the princesses," Drama Crest said, pointing to the portal between worlds as if signalling to those he spoke of. "Magic is the will of everything. All realities are bound by its energy; from it, universes are created. Magic will always work against chaos."
They crossed the road over to the school, reaching and sitting on the steps of the entrance and looking onward at the western light on the portal. Drama Crest, whose face was infinitely more expressive than his shapeless form, seemed to look upon the light and the portal with reverence.
Sunset wondered what he saw. Magic flowed from the portal like light from the sun and she could feel it in her body and through her gemstone yet it was only a feeling, like smelling a barbecue or feeling the resonance of a rock concert through the ground.
Looking at the sun and the portal had no difference for Drama Crest. Lines of energy spewed from the portal, terrestrial solar flares wrapped around each other, looping in and out until the end.
"There must always be something for the magic to work against. Chaos undoes Harmony, and in turn, Harmony corrects chaos. A struggle too difficult to accomplish but too essential to stop."
"You're crazy," Sunset remarked, gesturing at the portal statue. "The world on the other side is better thanks to Twilight and the Elements. How is what you're doing going to make it better?"
Drama Crest slapped his knee laughing, his torso bouncing to a rhythm of happiness. "I once told the Princess I wanted to kill time. A petty thing, of course, compared to the ever-present harmony we so desire. But it did help her understand; no time means no fractured events, all things living and dead and will be living can be united."
Sunset shot up, glaring down at Drama Crest. "If you don't think we can understand what you want, then why get involved with us anyway?"
"Because you will help," Drama Crest said. "You've seen all I have to show the Princess, at least all that is enough. You know our path."
"Like hell I will," she muttered, her jaw tightening and her fist ready to beat the Card Master's corporeal form into the ground. He simply shrugged, and his indifference gave her all the reason to strike.
To Sunset's surprise, her fist struck hard, but it did not reach Drama Crest's nose as she had intended. He took it in his palm, directing its vector elsewhere, and got up.
Sunset threw a kick to keep him down, but he was quicker and stepped into her space, placing a leg between hers and unbalancing her stance. If they leaned in any closer she swore she could have felt his papery breath. They sparred over nothing but it made Sunset feel better, making the Card Master work in her world.
She threw a punch, he jammed her arm before it could pick up speed. His elbow dug into her chest and pushed her back, but she stuck out her leg and kept Drama Crest from getting closer.
In some time he pushed her back, closer to the statue, pressuring into her attacks every time she tried to strike. In a fit Sunset charged Drama Crest, her shoulder compressing his gut, and toppled him back.
She rolled off him and stood up, but he was up too and standing next to the portal. With her necklace.
"Give it back," she reflexively.
He shook his head. "In a moment. I know you are not convinced. There is something I would like to show you, that the Princess can show you. We are fortunate you are so close to your trinket."
She ran at him but there was no chance in any world that she could have caught up before he joined the gemstone to the infinite magic.
Are you sure you want to see this? It's pretty gruesome.
I'm a princess. If I can't see it, who can?
Fine. I just worry.
Well stop, and start helping. Pity doesn't do me any favors.
They walked up the school as quickly as possible as to not drawn any attention from the flashing and clicking of the cameras that were collecting photos for newspapers. It was certainly an astonishing story, as one reporter put it.
Princess Twilight, if I could have a moment, he said. A camera flashed, taking a picture of the reporter and Twilight.
The princess isn't ready to speak to the press until after the investigation.
They walked on but more persisted, despite Starlight's shielding.
Princess, can you assure parents that their colts and fillies will be safe? Do you have any idea why this happened? Could your 'friendship map' predict anything like this?
No comments until after she sees the scene, was the same reply for all of them.
The walked inside the school. Police kept the scene clear of reporters.
I'll help out MPD for now, until the royal guard get here to calm things down. Twilight nodded.
I'll be down the hall if you need me. Starlight waited for a response and then walked away to let the princess see the classroom for herself. She stepped in the room carefully as to not disturb them while looking around at the walls and the desks. She saw the teacher.
There was a supply closet next to the window and opposite the door where she could see the talk and promises of reporters and officials while police inside consoled the crossing guard who was just on the road when it happened. A chess board and its pieces scattered themselves on the floor with glue and glitter and guts.
A filly once.
Her legs buckled and it was impossible to keep composure. Twilight's hooves rooted her to the ground but she yearned to leave, so she stretched and twisted until Twilight stood facing the door with her back to the window.
On her left a chalkboard clinging to the hasty scribbles of a desperate pony, asking to tell her family the thing. The thing they did not have, the ones who came. On the right they were uncountable because Twilight could not look at them even if she tried because her neck and joints were rusted shut so all she could do was listen to screeching joints suspending a frozen body.
Starlight came back from talking with the police and trained her eyes on Twilight and looked at all the little details of fear. Twilight looked back. She didn't need to explain herself, not to her, but she needed to speak.
I don't know if I can get over it.
I don't know if you're supposed to. They looked at each other through the door.
Step out.
I can't.
It's not a portal where you can never come back.
Yes it is. A part of me will never leave the room just like a part of them is here permanently.
Can you see why I'm worried?
About?
You, him, all this. It's why I begged Spike not to come even though he wanted to help you.
Good. That's good. One less thing.
One less thing, Starlight repeated.
There were more less things of course. The ones who came were killed as well, so they were a few things less to think about.
She sucked in her breath. Catch me if I fall.
Starlight nodded but didn't move. She only looked at the ground where she stood watched .
She lurched forward one step at a time like a bridge in an earthquake that shook with the tremors so that it did not crumble. Her body swayed forward and her legs came after at the last moment to catch her just in time. The teacher watched the door and made it even harder to cross, but Twilight steeled herself and bore the weight of the dead eyes.
You okay? Starlight looked at her for a moment. You look awful. You're fine, you walked out of there.
No I didn't. Not all of me at least. There's a part of me in that room, and I don't think it'll ever leave.
Well, um... Celestia sent some royal guards to leave a message for you.
What's it say?
She needs you in Canterlot for a press conference about it. I already have a copy of the police report.
Twilight looked down the hallway to the entrance of the school. Outside there were more reporters and twice as many parents who were angry and worried.
Send the messenger back, and tell Celestia Equestria will get its press conference. I'll do it here, talk to the parents, get the real emotions.
It was draining her, this thing. Twilight wasn't Twilight.
She couldn't figure out why she was like this. She taught her to seek friends for help but now the others have never been more distant. What could be done?
She looked at Twilight's list of things to do. Travelling, talking, compromising, arguing, how did she manage discussions on the outside when something debated her on the inside?
All she would say was his name, and brief summaries of his powers. Power over time and worlds, seeded deep inside her. Power to change or destroy? She didn't know.
But there was a lot of work for Twilight to do. More and more piling up as Celestia's distance from the world grew more apparent. She wanted to help, but if Twilight insisted on keeping the thing inside her to herself, then the only way was to pick up the baton.
She wondered if Spike had a list of errands she could run for Twilight.
It begins when a foal is born. They come into this world knowing nothing but the caress of the parents. Odd, how parents will see themselves as the teachers.
A family who lives in Cloudsdale had a young child just one month ago, Princess. You wouldn't know this, but I was there. I watched over the hospital as the doctor congratulated them. They had wanted their child to come as a surprise; it was a girl. This child will be raised on dolls and pink castles, charming trinkets and the belief that she cannot do the strong work of stallions.
When she becomes nine, the parents will learn they are not the teachers, only students of a new course. When she becomes nine, new technology will have developed (you will help make it Princess) and it will be able to read a pony's chromosomes, and even, their entire genome. When she becomes eight a doctor will make a startling discovery when he uses a magic scan to check if her severe stomach ache is something worse.
It isn't, but something else will beg further questions.
One year later, coincidentally on her ninth birthday, that same doctor will send a letter to the parents and they'll talk to him while their daughter goes to school. After an hour, they will understand that her condition has been recently named "complete androgen insensitivity syndrome."
It takes them the rest of the day to realize what that means. After that twenty four hours it will take one month for them to finally decide to tell their child.
She has complete androgen insensitivity syndrome, a genetic variation that caused her to develop differently during those eleven months, or more precisely, those three hundred and thirty-seven days.
"Your cells have the XY chromosomes. They're male." the doctor will explain to her once the parents decide to tell their daughter. "But during development as an embryo your cells did not respond to the signals of male hormones."
It will be confusing during that consultation. She can't remember how long it was, only that it felt like a lifetime.
The doctor will go on to explain her anatomy. In the development of embryos with CAIS, he'll say, the proto-gonads developed into testes and the fetus produces androgens, as per normal. But without a proper response from the hormones, the male genitals do not form, and instead become female in appearance. He will explain that, despite being genetically male, she posses the female clitoris and vagina.
At this moment, her identity crisis will have lasted one second. It will not end until she discovers herself again, thirteen years from this moment.
Finally, he'll tell her that's what he found in his examination a year ago. The scan he used showed him the undescended testes, still within her body, a result of incomplete development. Of course, research had not been completed during the scan, and no pony understood what her condition was.
It is all a lot for a nine year old filly, who is no longer sure if she is a filly. It is a lot for a child who will grow up for thirteen years, a member of a growing group who do not have the simple answers to their sense of self. It is a lot for a filly who will, six years from when she is told, openly admit she is "unsure" in her gender and face looks of curiosity, acceptance, condescension, disgust, hatred, misunderstanding, all at once.
Do you know how it feels to reach such realization, thirteen years after being told? four thousand, seven hundred and forty five days after being told? one hundred and thirteen thousand, eight hundred and eighty hours after being told? four hundred and ten million seconds after being told?
There will me many more like her, though not all will share the same condition. So many factors. Sexual differentiation within the genitals happens within a few months of development, two for you reader. In the latter half of pregnancy, sexual differentiation in the brain begins. These moments of development do no share the same time, and thus do not have to share the same results.
You must wait, Princess, for these books and articles to arrive. They are in your future, I stand watching the library in which you read them. SRY genes, guevedoce, more and more discoveries over the years.
You need not wait. You, and you, and you. I am the All, timeless and ever-present, and I am with you always. I see that at your fingertips now is the power to read and know your time, your world. SRY genes, guevedoce, you will know them before the Princess.
The universe began at some point. The Big Bang, a moment of creation. Let there be light.
However we see it, ponies believe there to be a beginning to things, and an end to things. These are the epochs of our lives, defining moments. They are all changes.
Why do we cling to our beliefs so tightly? I've asked many ponies over the centuries.
Science depends on faith. Across Equestria students read science books and believe them, because the scientific authority assures they are true. The followers of Caller Weaver were just as faithful. They, no matter what others told them, believed in the writings of Caller Weaver. His life was their path to peace and enlightenment.
Prayer and experiment.
The great mage Bright Ankh, who lived before the Two Sisters took power, conducted studies on the genes of the three pony races. He observed their traits -magic, physique, intelligence- and concluded there existed a sort of genetic superiority in the unicorn race. They had the most magic and their children learned the most. Their race was the ones who ruled Equestria with their power over the sun and moon.
There was one pony who was revered nearly as much as Caller Weaver. Caller Divine, for years, had heard nothing in his prayers. He believed the ways he was taught was flawed. He stole away with the First Works, the books written by Hammer Heart and Caller Weaver and the scrolls written by the first followers.
When the Two Sisters proved to be capable leaders, and masters of the Sun and Moon, the work of Bright Ankh was questioned. The development of new spells and magic, along with new technology, changed the study of genetics. Over years, enough evidence was compiled to prove Ankh's work was wrong. Many doubted it, unicorns especially. But their doubt drove more experiments, and they learned the truth as well. There was no superior race among the ponies.
He carried the First Works, along with three days of hay, and ventured to the same place Caller Weaver had gone to to find enlightenment. He read the memoirs of Caller Weaver, then the private diaries left by Hammer Heart. He paid special attention to the scrolls of the followers, for he believed they were the seeds of unholiness.
They call it the scientific method. A system of self-check that magicians and scientists use to determine what results are acceptable as truth. No pony believes the first or second experiment, even if the results are desired; all things must be repeated and observed. New discoveries are especially tested, there is much doubt around them. Despite this doubt, ponies still have faith in science, for it seeks truth and knowledge.
Caller Divine returned to the Crystal Empire, furious. The first followers were the most faithful and dedicated, but in Caller Weaver's own writings it was clear he was swayed by an ill tongue. Hammer Heart, a mare who never believed in Caller Weaver but still had her books consecrated by his followers, was the source of unholiness. She fed uncertainty and chaos into Caller Waver, and filled him with thoughts that clouded his mind and cut him from Harmony.
Caller Divine and hundreds of devout followers burned all but a few of Hammer Heart's diaries. Many who called themselves faithful to Hammer Heart's teachings were burned as well. Caller Divine, when questioned by a close follower, replied that he had discovered the truth, and that knowledge of true enlightenment was upon those who put faith in him. No questions were asked. Nothing changed.
No books or ponies were ever burned to correct the work of Bright Ankh. Everything changed.
Six hundred years ago, a tree fell in the middle of a forest and no pony was there to hear it.
Ten years ago, a trading center was built on the same location. That single building branched out, reaching connections from Los Pegasus to Fillydelphia. The nation's businesses, like the soil which feeds the tree, fed commerce and money into the trade center.
Five hundred years ago, birds nested on the branches of that tree, they counted on it to support their nests and hide them from predators. The tree fulfilled its role, and stood fast until the birds flew away.
Five years ago, one hundred thousand employees of that Manehattan trading center fed their families with their pay roll. They paid mortgages and ordered services all through the branches of investment and commerce. That building would stand strong, and so too its business, so long as it had business.
Two years from now that trade center will be destroyed, set on fire by an business pony turned arsonist because he had lost all his money on a poor investment. A hundred and forty-six employees will die in that fire, two hundred and fifty-seven will be saved by the fire department.
In its ashes, a small park will be built by the Princess of the Sun, with an apple tree to remember the hard working ponies. The apples, the fruits of their labor.
In another world, similar to this one in some ways, a small tree sprouts over the corpses of one and a half million ponies. The zebras bombed them. No pony plants the tree, no pony gives its branches and flowers meaning. It grows and thrives and in twelve hundred years from the time it sprouted, it will be eaten by termites and collapse.
Why do mathematicians fear zero? Ancient number systems did not even include the concept, they associated it with nothingness, emptiness, the void and death. They fear its power. Zero is the twin to infinity. It exists on the other side of the scale, balancing it, equal and opposite.
But suppose you could add up all the numbers. One and negative one, two and negative two, three and negative three, combining the equal and opposite numbers. Zero would then become more than a representation of no things, but rather the summation of all things. It becomes the largest value in the mathematical world, including the infinite amount positive and negative numbers.
Our perception is now flipped. Typically, ponies think of the number "1" as being one added to zero, or nothing. But now, zero is everything, and all other values are less than it. To turn zero into any value less than it, we must subtract something from the whole.
Suppose we removed a negative one from the whole. Zero is now no longer everything, it becomes a value that is everything but negative one. It becomes 0 - (-1) = 1.
One is still a big number, it is all positive numbers and all negative numbers, with the exception of negative one. The same holds for two, which can be made like this 0 - (-2) = 2
Two is everything, except for negative two.
Every number we once knew now represents a number being taken away from zero. A part taken from the whole. Astonishing, isn't it? All things exist because it is taken from the whole. All things are separated from the perfect balance.
One of the first things to test the power of the Two Sisters was a breaking of Equestria's ponies. Many lords and ladies used to independence and self-rule chose to live apart from the new Equestria. Peacefully, but away nonetheless. What geographers today call the Badlands was once lush and green and flourishing with life.
The Sun and Moon feared an attack from the south, many years later. The Old Empire, as they had called themselves, was expanding. Some ponies near the border even elected to leave and rejoin their kin in the new lands. It was, quite reasonably, an expanding sphere of influence that could divide the continent.
The first action was to create a defined border further south that would keep the two lands safely apart. The Two Sisters did not, in fact, demand repatriation of those who had left Equestria, but demanded more lands in the south as compensation. Thousands were evicted from their homes to move farther and farther from Equestria.
It does not take long for ill will to fester when homes and families are involved. And the leaders of the Old Empire began to hear whispers, that they would not be free if the two alicorns sat on the throne. These same whispers reached the ears of the Sun and the Moon and what they heard was a threat to their nation's security.
Make no mistake. Equestria invaded the Badlands, turned its land to waste. The books say Equestria defended freedom and security, which is not incorrect. But it was wrong.
The Old Empire was smaller in military than Equestria, and relied on guerrilla tactics and escaping through their dense forests.
So pegasi put their military culture to the test, creating the first traditions that would give rise to the Wonderbolts. The only mission was to pollute the Badlands with a magical toxin that stripped the leaves off the trees, thus cutting apart the guerrilla forces.
Have you seen anything like it? In your world, through the portal?
The cheif adviser to the Two Sisters said, if I remember correctly and I do, that "I [Minister Blitzer] don't think it is wise to pursue military action as the only action against the encroaching enemy. To do so would be suicidal. And to send some seventy or eighty thousand young stallions into the Badlands was an extreme risk, with an extreme cost."
I was astonished to see this reality. This one, out of all the outcomes. Equestria didn't know what it was fighting. The Sun and the Moon were both wrong in their assumption that the ponies of the Badlands wanted to return to Equestria, and the Old Empire never made their intentions clear to Equestria.
A seven year war, over ten thousand killed or injured on each side, and we were all fighting blind. We went to war blindfolded.
Any military commander, who wants to be honest to the mirror, will admit that they had made mistakes during their application of military power.
The wrong choice has killed ponies without reason, their own or the enemy's, through mistakes and errors of judgement. And it will happen, there is never a time where that does not happen. But a single commander can't destroy nations.
We say to learn from our mistakes. And generally we do, though it might take two tries or three tries, hopefully not four or five. Like everything else, there's a learning curve.
There's no learning curve when you wield the Sun's magic. With that energy, one mistake and you destroy nations.
When Caller Divine rallied his followers the Crystal Ponies expected a war of debate, arguing the merits of teachings and texts as scholars always do. Thus it was a shock when the entire marketplace was closed down by armed monks, and pyres were built wherever there was room.
He wrote, on that very first day, his only intention was to destroy the word of Hammer Heart, and over time their faith would be cleansed. Yet the sun set on fanatical followers and their pyres of books, burning with the dying cries of her defendants. Caller Divine saw their beliefs feared, not loved, by the Crystal Empire as the burnings continued.
"They will kill us," were the words of fearful priests and monks, who barred the doors to their houses and places of worship. Those words alone almost justified a true holy war.
"Future disciples will never be safe if we don't break our oaths now." Many priests spoke these words to their herd more and more as the weeks of pyres turned to months. They thought, with the utmost certainty, that they were on the brink of war.
But within those herds, some of them had family who followed Caller Divine. "I don't believe that," they said at one time or another to their herd leader. And that took bravery, to empathize with the enemy among allies. "I think there's still time for him to back down."
These ponies, who had family following Caller Divine, understood what the other side wanted. He was no warmonger or lunatic. He wrote, in a letter to his sister, that he feared his good intentions had created a revolution that would "tear the fabric of the empire apart."
But he needed his following, and as devout as they were, Caller Divine understood that his ponies expected a firm hoof against the teachings of Hammer Heart. He had swore to them with his rhetoric to stomp out corruption in their faith, and knew his followers would burn him with the books before they let him end the pyres.
"He just needs to assure his herd," one pony said, whose brother had ripped apart his own copy of Hammer Heart's journals to join Caller Divine. "If he can make us disappear and tell his ponies that he secured their faith, he would choose that option over burning ever last Hammer Heart loyalist."
There was, I think, a moment of empathy between the leaders, despite their differences. Those do exist.
Caller Divine ultimately understood that he simply needed to be rid of the loyalists. Following some controversial, and obviously unfounded, rumors of hidden manuscripts written by Hammer Heart, he distracted his herd during a week of fanatical fervor. Houses turned inside out, streets torn apart for hidden tunnels, just so the loyalists could leave the Crystal Empire unmolested.
In the anarchy seven died, all burned by fanaticism, so that three hundred and twenty-seven (and their descendants) could leave and freely practice their beliefs. Somewhere in the caves of the frozen north, they still pray.
Would you believe me if I said I don't know where they are?
In the Badlands, before the Equestrian troops invaded, a watchtower along the border of the two countries spotted movement in the trees. The watcher sounded the tower's alarm and the garrisoned forces of about thirty ponies rushed out to meet the intruders. They found no pony, only spears and slings and dragon scale shields buried in holes and hidden in bushes.
The report said "Princesses Celestia and Luna, the enemy has made their move against us. I [Commander Onlook] believe we need some peaceful action to prevent further aggression. To go into the Badlands with no peaceful way of leaving would be, in my professional opinion, the most foolish this this nation can do."
The Two Sisters thought another thing; they thought the enemy would not be so bold as to militarize the border, so they disregarded the report almost entirely.
Three days later, a storm rolled over another tower, neighboring the one attacked before. The lands darkened, and even the trees seemed to shrink away from the winds that moaned like the song of a whale. Rain battered the walls, and in the flashes of lighting, a watcher noticed something in the trees.
"Unusual activity: Beginning on GRID line 2023 at 0200 hours, arriving at GRID line 2101 by 0230 hours." The commander of the tower brushed it off as nothing; young stallions were always green and jumped at the sight of their own shadow if they think it moved.
One watcher recorded "unnatural and magical sparks that appear deliberately concealed within the lightning". In any event, no equipment was ever found after the storm.
By the time the tower had completed an evaluation of their situation, the Princesses had already taken action based on the preliminary reports. Do you understand this, Princess?
The commander tried to correct the early mistakes of the watchers, "they were too green for their own good," he wrote, but it fell of deaf ears.
Equestria formed a war council against the Badlands on a single belief that the Old Empire was determined to increase hostilities. A belief that was fundamentally flawed. There were no weapons found during the storm.
And even though after the war the recovered papers of the Old Empire confirmed that the Badlands had prepared a series of testing strikes on the border, it also reveals no executive order was given to attack on both the given days.
Is that ridiculous? Yes. No.
The Two Sisters believed the first attack was a fluke, but thought the second one was a threat and believed the Old Empire intended to wage a prolonged conflict. In reality none of that happened.
The Old Empire wanted to test the defenses at some point, true. The first attack was action taken by a captain or commander preparing his battlefield, expecting an engagement at some point at that watchtower. The leaders of the Old Empire never wanted an large-scale invasion. Neither side want war. But it happened anyway.
We had a predisposition about the enemy, believed them to be evil, and then saw events so that it supported our claim. No matter what happened all we saw was what we wanted to see, because we set out to look at things with a single, paranoid point of view; the belief that the Old Empire planned to reinstate control and oppression over Equestria was as ridiculous as it was captivating to the ponies of Equestria.
But sometimes what you see and what you believe both aren't true.
"It's something I can't explain," Caller Weaver once said to Hammer Heart. "I don't know why you were chosen by harmony, but I have to believe you were."
"I doubt it," she replied abrasively, though in his memoirs Caller Weaver liked to believe she was much less harsh with her judgement. If I could find the writings of Hammer Heart herself, you'd see that wasn't the case.
But one thing was true between their two writings. Hammer was the source of his doubt, but also the reason he believed in his Harmony. Why would some pony who never even tried prayer or meditation be a tool for harmony?
"I went up there to get you because I'm your friend, damn it." If she could hate one thing about Caller Weaver, it was his insistence that she was a piece of harmony. "I did that, me, not some all-seeing, all-knowing, magical fart in the wind."
But never, not once, did he flinch at her criticism. Because it was true. He doubted something commanded her, but it was her own will that made harmony so strong in his mind.
She acted on her own yet it was what harmony wanted, needed. But that's exactly what I think it is. Harmony simply is, it's simply being. All its pieces is simply being. Everything was meant to be.
Those were his words, written on a scrap of paper to himself while he pondered what to pen into his texts. Knowing whatever he wrote could very well be taken as law among some of the most devout, he was careful; but he wanted to write it in and tell the truth about her role in harmony.
That scrap of paper was cleaned up and thrown away by a servant later in the evening. It never made it into his books, or his scrolls.
Over time, Caller Weaver changed. He meditated less, talked to his acolytes less. He was still revered in his life and long after, but he deemed his involvement unnecessary. If harmony was the act of being, he reasoned, then he would be happy in every way possible and sample all that harmony had to give.
"Caller Weaver, why have you not meditated for two weeks?" asked a follower one day when the sun was shinning and the cool air blew through and nipped at the skin.
That day, he had promised to treat Hammer Heart to lunch on a hill at the edge of the city that overlooked the rolling grasslands around them.
"Have I ever told you about my pilgrimage to the mountain north of here?" he asked the follower, who was young and had only heard whispers from the elder followers. So, of course, the young one shook is head.
"Then let's just say I wouldn't be talking to you without my friend here. For me, spending time with her is as holy as any session of meditation."
Hammer Heart let him speak of her like that even if she disagreed with it. She didn't mind because she was celebrating a special day, and the anticipation of surprising Caller Weaver put her in too good of a mood.
She found it funny that day, and almost every day since. Weaver was young, or so he claimed, but she was younger, yet she started a family with love while he had just his faithful. Who were great, but no family.
I asked him to bless my marriage with Jewel Smith. Sometimes I wish harmony was some kind of deity, because I would pray to it to send me back in time to see his face all over again.
I have to admit the shock was funny, but it brought a different joy for Caller Weaver. His friend, who just reached adulthood when they met, was now entering another stage in her life. She make new bonds, and strengthened old ones.
Life sang with her, and she sang with life, like a flute and the player together as one, composing new songs with improvisation and picking every accidental beat and note and running with it because if she was a song then life was a performance and it was impossible to turn back when you're on the stage.
I will forever consider my greatest accomplishment to be my role in their wedding. Hammer Heart, my old friend, and Jewel, a new friend, have allowed me to live free. Before their weddings, sometimes I would still hear the voice, in my sleep, or idle moments in meditation. It was rare, so few and far between that I could even tell myself I did not hear voices and believe it even though it would ultimately be untrue. This following of mine may be based on my insanity, but by coincidence or will of some higher power, I think it has stumbled across some truth of the world.
Indeed he found his harmony. For the years following that wedding day, his temple became temples and many followers spread their faith and his words through good deeds and charity. It was their will to change the world for the better because they knew it would take action to have an impact. It was the only way to enact harmony's will, by acting on their own.
And throughout those years he became close to Jewel Smith, and closer still to Hammer Heart. He was the godfather of their children, two daughters and sons; despite Jewel's indifferent attitude and permission, he still followed Hammer's wishes and refrained from teaching her children his faith.
Only one joined the temple, and it was his choice entirely.
Not all days are good for him though. He's questioning himself more than ever, or maybe that's just the look of some pony accepting reality. I don't know, I never looked at myself when I saw it.
I don't think she accepted it herself until the moment her lung infection took her, but it's what she wanted others to believe, and what she wanted herself to believe. But sometimes what we see and believe just aren't true.
Caller Weaver wrote that Jewel asked, begged even, for him to pray for her health.
"You might as well," he had told Caller Weaver. "It's not going to do any harm."
I won't, no, I can't. It wouldn't be harmless. Again and again Hammer Heart insists I do nothing, and I understand. It would undermine everything she stood for, wouldn't it? Oh, I wish I'd hear some voice in my head, real or not, just for the chance it might say something to help me think this through. Anything, please. Just say anything.
This was his harmony. He met with her every day, more often than he attended his own temple, and more often than Jewel Smith.
"He might not like it when I'm gone," she told him, three days before her passing. "He doesn't like or dislike your faith, but he's never been good with handling his feelings. He'll take it out on you, and blame you for not praying."
"I hate to say it, but perhaps it would be better for every pony if we just did one meditation session." The hospital near the crystal palace felt colder as he said those words. It was a chill that bore deep through his flesh and into his bones until many years later.
"Better for him, maybe," she said calmly, though I'm not sure how she felt inside, "and perhaps better for my friends and yours. But they have ample time to make things better for themselves. Selfish or not, I won't die struggling to appease others. I'm all I need to please."
Three days later Hammer Heart's lung infection killed her. Mucus and fluid had built up in her lungs, and already a week before her death she suffered bouts of torrential coughing, blood and pain included. It was not an easy or unjust death.
The funeral was held quickly after; sadly a sarcophagus had been prepared by the temple, which was something Hammer Heart did agree on. She would not be buried as a saint no matter what others thought. She was buried as a friend. As family.
I went back. That mountain we climbed. And I stood on the edge again just like I did so many years ago. I turned back, and started thinking.
I turned back, and started thinking. I saw her there standing strong like the climb was nothing. I closed my eyes and I saw myself, thinking about all the things I only truly understand now. She was being a friend; all harmony is is being.
What does it mean? She saved me and now she's dead. Why are we being? I revered you, Harmony. You opened my eyes to a wonderful world where life was meant to live by the forces of your nature. I was happy in accepting the world and all its changes. And now you've taken it away.
What is it that you want? There is no path to joy and peace with you as the guide. You, who built a following through me using her. You, who answered the simple question of how we should live our lives. Now torn asunder, the flesh of faith rend as a wolf would its prey. We were united -I was united- under you, Harmony.
But who ever said unity was what Harmony wants?
If that's not what it wants then why follow it then? It would take time to bring the truth to the others, but that effort is preferable to letting generations believe they have found solace in harmony.
You were certain that your faith was the truth?
Yes.
The absolute truth?
Hammer Heart gave me every reason to love harmony and the unity it brought me. Ponies live lives envisioning only one outcome, fixated on a course they have no power over. I thought true happiness could be found in accepting that and living with it.
Standing on the mountain and feeling the winds crawl into my jacket, I saw it coming. On the world's edge everything seemed to collapse, encapsulating the land in a monstrous tide. Black, fury, frozen. A city of ten thousand crystal ponies cowered below, hiding behind magic and finding every distraction they could possibly have just to call themselves fine. Nothing was wrong around them, the city was all that there was.
What could they do against the mountains of snow sprinting in the winds; wendigos on the plain scoured for the damned. The storm ate them all the same as everything, only it swallowed them whole and not one by one.
You were certain of your belief then. Can you act now, without doubt?
So many found safety in temples, for reason even I do not know. They trusted me, and I trusted the world, but I didn't know the world enough. I've witness the end of life, what more is there to see?
The life after death.
After. There's the rub. Why did she opt to suffer? Would it be so preferable to suffer the stings of life than to take up arms against the troubles and by opposing them, end it? To die, a sleep. Would there come a nightmare, or dream, if anything was to come at all?
For who would bear the whips and scorns of Harmony's change -the pangs of love and love lost- and suffer the sweat and burdens of a weary life, but that it seemed a paradise against an unknown land where no tourist can truly speak of?
Did she, was it, fear? Fear of the void clouds looming around the city of life, ready to swallow you whole? Or was life as sweet for her as it was for me once, and rather she relished living than feared death. The next day, and the next, was all she wanted. So, then, is that for me?
Live a life a day, and I might change. I would subject myself to change and be swept up by Harmony like all the others. The temples might stand. They might teach what I have said, and trust blindly in the words not the life. And perchance, they find their life fits snug. I cannot know anything anymore.
Night silver scraped comfortably in the Hunter's ears. The sound meant that the metal was coating nicely onto the steel ingot. Brittle, rough, the night silver clung to the metal just enough.
She carried it over to the forge, a simple pile of bricks with openings for the bellows and blades. The bellows at the base breathed life into the forge, lung and heart, and brought the two metals together. She pulled it out, hammered the metal with blasts of magic to force the night silver to disperse evenly throughout the steel, then twisted the flattened ingot until it took a form similar to a cord of rope.
The magic she blasted into the blade didn't just push the night silver. The metal repulsed magic, denied its existence, and forced that energy throughout the blade.
On top of adding extra heat into the steel, it also left traces of her aura in it as well. Latent magic, so passive even night silver couldn't touch it, empowered the blade. It would dull slower, and cut deeper through the magic that surrounded many monsters.
Fold, fold, bind, a thin steel wire tightly held the twisted metal together, and the Hunter put it back into the raging fire. She drew it out when it glowed like dragon flame and repeated the process.
Hammer, twist, fold, fold, rebind and reheat. Treat in oil.
Her old master and friend now took the mantle of blacksmith and instructed her on how to hammer the metal to a blade. With bursts of power she heated and shaped the metal from tip to tang. With magic the blade was near completion, though not even magic could make obsolete a steady hoof and a grindstone.
Tentatively, Guerrier sharpened the blade, refining the edge glistening sharp until it dripped with monster blood it would spill in the future.
"Careful, Twilight," he warned her as she polished the finished weapon. "That blade'll bite into your magic if you try holding it with levitation."
"I use my wings anyway, easier to manipulate while firing spells."
"Alright, but I still don't get why you had to put so much night silver into it. You're lucky your magic's a part of it, or you wouldn't even be able to stand near it without being drained."
"It's not really something I can talk about, even though I want to," answered the Hunter.
Her old master looked at her, a little hurt by the exclusion but more worried by far. "You don't have to hide anything from me. You never have."
"If I told you, if I even knew where to start, you'd just want to get involved," she put her polished sword into its sheath. "And I don't think that's possible."
Sighing, he set his blacksmith tools back on the tool bench, walked outside with a tired gait, and sat on the grass by the forge.
The building breathed heat, not because of its forge but because of the drying summer sun that baked the inside of the brick forge. Wide and spacious, the summer made it congested and roughly unpleasant.
"When are you leaving?" Guerrier asked the Hunter; she followed him outside to relax in warm breeze that fluttered through the coat and kissed the skin.
"Not far, don’t worry," she deflected. Useless.
Guerrier hacked up a laugh. "Young lady, if you could get a thought by me without my knowing, then my senses must be older than they ought to be. I raised you the best I could since that day I found you."
She nodded and sighed. "This isn't a normal hunt. The magic involved is beyond anything any pony can understand, including other mutant hunters."
"Not going to lie," Guerrier spoke grimly, "that's frightening. Magic has been something monster hunters rely on, rather than appreciate. Not to mention, witchcraft hasn't given magic a good name, no matter who you ask. You're not hunting witches, are you?"
The Hunter chuckled. "I don't think it's like that. It's just that the magic is hard to explain, is all. I'm taking a portal to an uncharted land, to put it simply."
"That all? Doesn't sound as bad as the kelpie." Guerrier stretched out on the grass and looked at the scar on the Hunter's shoulder, a nicely healed -though noticeable- bite mark left by the shape-shifting water elemental.
The Hunter rubbed her shoulder, extending her wing to stretch the muscle. "It was a tough choice in the end. But I did what I had to do, and I'm guessing the same's going to happen for this job."
"Then you'll be fine; you've remembered everything I taught you," Guerrier chuffed, reassuring himself as much as her. "I just hope wherever you're going, it's as ready for you as you are for it."
Manehattan was, above all, city of wonder. Business districts, selling goods and services from catering to fashion to jewelry to mane dressing, made the city and its ports bustling as an economic center rife with opportunity. But instills more wonder is how, with 1.7 million ponies living in the cities, tourists seem to forget the ones who keep the clock ticking.
Starlight trotted with Spike to the community center of the Bronco Borough. The building was in repair, constantly, because fixing one thing took so long another part would break. This time it was a pipe for the water fountains.
"Jeez, I've never been to this part of Equestria," Spike remarked as the two of them passed the construction site.
Starlight nodded but looked for the coordinator of the neighborhood. She found his office at the end of the hallway on the left, and lightly tapped on the door.
"Come in, come in," he said.
With Spike as the writer they discussed many topics of interests. Funding for construction. Funding for school. Funding for clean energy like a solar farm to replace an abandoned carriage factory in the middle of the borough.
"Twilight also sent me to talk about new standards for the schools," Starlight added as they wrapped up how city funds would be distributed across Bronco's homeless shelters.
The coordinator pointed down the hallway. "Ms. Learnings is three doors down, but only her secretary's in today on account of a close relation's funeral in Fillydelphia."
"Alright, thank you," Starlight said. She and Spike stopped by and asked the secretary to send a note to Twilight's castle when Ms. Learnings returned from her visit.
"So, what next?" Spike asked as they left the building and as the construction workers cleaned up the new pipe they added as a replacement.
"Twilight wanted me to handle a debate being hosted by Manehattan Nightly News over reworking a part of Manehattan's school curriculum."
"Really? She's usually excited about those," Spike noted. "In fact, have you noticed that she's been a little off for the past few nights?"
"She's had more to do than usual," Starlight immediately replied. "Long hours has its way of catching up to ponies."
"Explains the poor sleep," Spike added. "Alright then, so where's this debate?"
Night rises on the city, and many of its experts from both sides of the argument sit on the stage, facing each other. Starlight takes position on one of the sides with Twilight's permission to "speak for yourself" and not for the princesses. Twilight knew her stance; it was one they shared. And for the good of the future generations, it has to be asserted.
The host welcomes the audience, ten thousand ponies seated in the largest theater in Manehattan. On their left Starlight sits. On the right there are others sitting too.
"I'd like to begin with a question to the defending argument." True Voice turns to Starlight's side. "What are the main objections to teaching historical mythology in a scientific context? Erlen Myer, could you start us off?"
A stallion sitting in the row before Starlight clears his throat and speaks. "Well the crux of the problem is that it's simply not true. I mean, this isn't even debate in the educational or scientific community, and you certainly won't find any pony in Canterlot who thinks this sort of topic is fitting for a science class room."
"Hold on, you can't know it's not true," chimes in a mare from across the stages. "For centuries science has constantly reworked itself because there's always some observation that's wrong. We're simply arguing that the theory of evolution should not be submitted as fact while other beliefs are disregarded."
"Ms. Guide, glad to have you so passionate about tonight's event but please, there are turns."
Erlen Myer holds out his hoof to the host. "No it's quite fine. Miss Guide actually points out a huge, and in fact vital, flaw in this 'controversy' over intellectual design versus natural processes, and that is that many ponies still think science teaches students what to believe the same way some private institutions might."
Another teacher ripostes. "The private sector of educ-"
He interjects and continues. "Please allow me to finish Sir Dean. How science should be, and from my experience is, taught in public schools is by showing students the evidence, explaining how it derives our understanding of natural processes, and then performing experiments where they can predict exactly what they will see based on the information they know should be true."
The moderator thanks the speaker, turns to the other side, and allows Sir Dean to pose his question.
"Well, okay. I don't exactly agree that schools teach that way, but I'll be generous and say that it does. What, then, should the student do if he or she gets a result that's unexpected?"
The mare next to Erlen Myer, Meter Rhyme, gives her response to the question. Starlight is laughing to herself at Sir Dean's question and no pony hears.
"Then the student would simply have to dismiss what they know if, after repeated testing, the tests show a different reality. But, and I'm sorry to rain on your parade Sir Dean, that has yet to happen for our current understanding of evolution."
They go back and forth on the topic. Sir Dean claims his stance, Meter Rhyme speaks, Caller Attic Fan replies, Professor Myer ripotes.
"Private institutions are already giving students the opportunity to tap into beliefs that allows for creative thinking, not to be told that natural selection is the only way of life. And, it lets them answer the big question of why we are here."
"The question of 'why' is a metaphysical question, not science. It's perfectly appropriate to be taught in a religious studies class."
"Perhaps, but records from the Crystal Empire are a thousand years old and are unchanged due to an ancient curse. Is it not ridiculous to disregard these first hand accounts of the past as myth, even when some of them tell stories of how Harmony brought our earth into creation?"
"Mr Fan, again, science teaches critical thinking through self-checking experimentation. No evidence, at all, suggests what you say is true. It would be even more ridiculous to say the theories of Callers are as valid as tried and true understandings of evolution."
The moderator take a sip of water and calms down the debate. "Alright, lets bring it back to the topic before we go on until morning, shall we?" The audience chuckles. "Why don't we hear from some pony who hasn't spoken. Our guest debater on the defending side, Starlight, is speaking tonight on behalf of Princess Twilight."
The spotlight falls on Starlight and many in the crowd turn from the main speakers of the night to her. She clears her throat.
"What's your take on this issue? Why do you defend the way science is taught now in schools?"
She sits up straighter just a little bit. "Well, in my studies of magic I've always found magic theory to be useful in predicting what a spell will do, even if that spell has never been done before. Understanding the theory of evolution is essential in science not because of its belief, but because it teaches young students how we have been able to actively shape our world for the better."
"Starlight," Caller Attic Fan shoots out from his mouth, "what about all the science classes where students from the Crystal Empire, who are promised a healthy education abroad, are ridiculed for their beliefs based on the evidence they have read from the Crystal Library? Even you know the magic in there is true, so why deny it in the classroom?"
Starlight stares across to Caller Attic Fan. The supporting side nods their head, and Sir Dean looks at Attic Fan with a grin.
"The treatment of beliefs is a problem of conduct, Caller Fan," Starlight leans in staring across the stage but projecting herself out, the world an ear to listen. "And I would never endorse our schools to attack students for their beliefs. But we are talking about science as a way we come about knowledge and truth about nature around us."
"Truth should be a choice-" starts Miss Guide. Starlight continues.
"Let give you an example. The three pony races evolved under magical influences that make us distinctly different from our common ancestors. We've recently seen that our genome has thirty-one chromosome pairs, as opposed to recovered DNA of early modern ponies who had thirty-two."
The crowd and the debaters listen in intently.
"We know through genetics that we couldn't have lost this information, missing a pair of chromosomes would be lethal. So scientists hypothesized last year that two chromosome pairs fused with each other in telomere to telomere fusion."
The audience sits in silence and the scientists around Starlight all nod.
"And then we found the site of fusion. In our second chromosome pair, our chromosomes have telomeres in the middle where they shouldn't be, a result of fusion that may have been caused by exposure to magic."
Words don't convince well on their own. Starlight knows, and projects a visual of the chromosome from her horn. The process and site of fusion is animated.
"This is why we teach science the way we do. It lets us make predictions and find the answers, not assume that we have them to begin with. There's not wrong with faith, but we have to know how to use it in our lives when we make the pursuit of knowledge."
The debate continues on for the next half hour, but Starlight doesn't make many more comments other than to reinforce the defense with sound logic, refuting or answering doubts the challengers presented.
Starlight, as the night runs on, notices how doubts from beliefs created a discussion that promoted the truths of her side. And she wonders.
Helping out around Fluttershy's place. New apartment, new furniture, wish you could be here.
Sunset texted back to Rainbow Dash. "I wish I could be there too," she repeated to herself.
Sunset sat in her room, snug in her pajamas and looking at her gemstone. The little nova rested on her chest as she leaned back in her chair. It was surreal, to see the colors within. On the surface it was the color of autumn wind, but as she looked closer there were little changes inside.
In the light, the impurities were stars in the evening sky, showing themselves even before the sun winked shut to go to bed. It was a galaxy between her fingers when she turned it, stars twinkling.
Holding it close to her chest felt warm, throughout her body every fiber of muscle was relaxed. What they had seen, what she and her gem both knew, turned her room into nothing.
Sunset flipped through a textbook. She, the prodigal student of what was effectively a god-queen in her time, looked at the topics with amusement. Even the effort to get a degree was a drop in the ocean compared to understanding magic.
And so she felt whole.
Her phone buzzed again. Another text from Rainbow Dash.
Pinkie showed up with pizza. Said something about meeting a guy who just showed up at her house. She also said you acted weirdly after she introduced you to him. You hiding something?
"Just a weird feeling is all," she said as she typed. She stopped, realizing Rainbow would almost certainly take it the wrong way. She tried another response.
"He gives off a weird energy. Not magic, but I still don't like it." Sunset guessed that whatever she said could have been taken the wrong way, but this didn't seem to imply anything too bad. She sent it and hoped for the best.
Hm... -_-
Sunset shook her head at Rainbow's response and tossed her phone onto her bed. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the bare ceiling. It was heavy. Falling weights at the gym, it held Sunset like a steel vice.
"I need some fresh air." She looked at the clock by the door of her apartment. Fresh air, and an appointment.
She walked out and onto the street. She walked farther still, leaving her college campus and nearing flashing ads and street lights of the city. A beast entirely different from the suburbs around Canterlot High, though it was just driving distance away.
Cars swooshed back and forth on the streets. There were no crashes. She passed the stores as saw designer handbags and coats made of synthetic leather, all on sale. The city was a machine, its little parts scurrying around and working in perfect unison. No one was out of place.
There was a fitness center, not for people who wanted to get fit. There, people went to get better. It was free to join, everything paid for by generous donations and fundraisers. It was this place that Sunset entered where people went to cure themselves.
She walked in and entered the office by the entrance on the left; it came before the entrance to the gym. Along the wall of the office were pictures of success. Some had recovered from injuries, others from addictions. Smokers, drinkers, gamblers, they were all there. One lost a leg. Another partly paralyzed in one leg.
The manager looked at his list of names. "Sunset Shimmer? Here for the interview?"
She nodded and took a seat across the desk.
"Tell me about yourself. Why do you want to work here?"
"Well I've seen a lot of students come to my clubs for help, and whether they're at their peak or could use a little push to get in better shape, everyone comes to become better," Sunset paused, thinking about how to explain her reasons.
"But lately I've noticed some other students being a bad influence, and though no one's stated it outright, I think it's spread to some members within my motocross club."
The manager raised a brow. "Bad influence like drinking and late night parties?"
"Yeah," Sunset nodded, "and I don't want to guess what else. It's made me realize that I'm only part of a small world; beyond the walls of my friends there's still a lot of the world that I could help fix. So, I looked around and I figured this place was a good place to start."
"And why does 'Reconstructive Fitness' interest you above other charities, besides all our fitness programs," the manager asked. Sunset had asked herself that question. What convinced her that her actions were the best?
"I looked up reviews for a lot of places, and ratings from the city center as well," she gestured slightly with her hand to a plaque on the manager’s wall, and award given by the mayor of the city. "This place looks like it's genuinely committed to betterment, and has had the best results so far."
She continued and waved her hand across the photos on the wall. "Pride in each success story means you don't treat anyone less than a person, no matter how many you have to help. And believe me, I can appreciate how that feels."
The manager smiled. "Just, really quick, I want to transition to your credentials as a trainer. It says on your resume that you help coach your school's motocross and cycling clubs. Tell me more?"
Sunset smiled and nodded and talked about herself and only herself. She was glad to describe the training they did and how she motivated her team. It was like freedom, the freedom to exist in her own world.
So that I may be free of my task, and so that you may be free of me.
Of course. It's what she wanted, the Hunter supposed. The Card Master's world for her was a prison in memory. She relived memories however she wanted, sometimes living a good day three or four different times. But every day she looked at Ripe Apple and knew he'd be dead one day.
She had looked at her children the same, knowing they'd outgrow her, become hunters and leave their children on the farm as their own stinging legacy. Some days she relived the whole experience of raising her children without a single day of monster hunter training. None of it was her life.
What do you think? Returning to the flow of time, it can be hard for one like you.
"I'm still young for a mutant. Even if it takes a year or ten, I can get used to it," she answered. "I can't be stuck forever."
Aahh, now there's a though. Forever.
"No, no," objected the Hunter, stirring her tincture of river hemlock and venom sacs taken from alphyns, monsters resembling wolves with dragon scales and claws. "Don't start that garbage again. I'll fight for you once more but that's it. Nothing more."
Fine then. I'll just play cards against myself.
The Card Master sat himself down at the entrance of the cave, his back turned to the Tree. He let a card trickle through his body and crawl through the skin of the Princess, his host. It fluttered down onto the rocky earth. A tarot card. The lovers.
I'm impressed that you've made my beauty see our world. But you haven't been completely honest.
She knows of you already, dreaming of Caller Weaver made sure of that.
And I bet you've made her lose sleep over it too.
There is a new one.
Is that one yours, as the Princess is mine?
Nothing is ours. This is why we parted. You are too close.
And you treat everything so distant. The Tower. It's truly what you are; always trying to be the force of change, upheaval both collective and impersonal.
And you hate me for it. Funny how they see me as a creature of pure evil while they stand in your presence. The Devil card has always been your favorite.
So what of it?
You show no tact and let go of any inhibitions. You express our power as if doing so is our true nature.
It is mine!
Then your true nature knows nothing of subtlety or strategy. Your emotions and wishes and wild uncontrolled passion has blinded us, and consequently them.
There is no us. My passion has set me free. Only you struggle to follow the old structure we once limited ourselves to.
The choice is coming. The Devil may strike down The Tower, or vice versa, but Lovers we will be for the choice resides in us as one. It is a choice we must make: the choice of evolution over perfection, of personal growth through relationship, instead of a fantasy where everything falls into place perfectly and is taken care of without effort.
I will see what you have to show; your plan is nearly complete. You certainly have taken the Ace of Swords to heart. I cannot deny my Princess, but I will try to bring her mind back to this world.
I hope the denouement is to your liking, Tree. It will be to mine.
Being in Equestria again was not what Sunset expected. The magic, the breath of life that filled her being and tickled her horn with spells and energy, that was welcome. But walking on four legs was something she didn't think could feel so weird. She also didn't think she would miss fingers.
It was a good thing Twilight had the portal moved to her castle, Sunset thought to herself as she wandered the tree shaped crystal structure. Even with the Card Master looming over her thought, she couldn't help but awe at the sight.
As she checked the rooms, there was no pony to be seen. "Must be lonely," Sunset murmured to herself, "especially at night."
She found herself at a round table surrounded by chairs. She marveled at the parallels between it and a human legend she had read about. Knights of the Round Table, that's what Twilight and her friends were like in Equestria. Myths, legends, heroes.
But even those knights were but small stories. How could a helpful few change the world?
Sunset left the castle and strolled out on the roads of Ponyville. She marveled at how nothing changed but seemed completely foreign to her. She had been to this little town a few times, to study the magic of its citizens. She realized now that those excursions were just attempts to make her meet friends.
“Maybe I’d have a castle if that happened,” mused Sunset. She looked up, tracing the shape of her imagined castle in the stars with her eyes. Her glanced followed its edges, the points of the conical roofs of the rotundas, until she rested her gaze on the moon.
Luna was no longer there. Another change. She had left Equestria before the prophecy came true, before Harmony was reborn in Twilight and her friends. Now, she thought to herself, she’ll be helping fulfill another one. Her gemstone necklace hummed to her thoughts.
The castle shimmered in the sleeping sun, but this night Twilight was not asleep. She couldn’t see where she was going. A streak of light, her streak of light that came from focus but flickered because the castle was everywhere around and it was hard to concentrate, outlined forms and shapes on the table.
Travel.
Her thoughts swirled around Los Pegasus, where the nights darkened with fake flashing stars shown by telescopes with dirty lenses. They expunged wealth from the onlookers. And around Canterlot, where paper birds flew the air with songs to ears, music about the failure of innocence.
She could do her part with her light. But the line of light was thin, running the length of the map touching little of it.
Her light traced the floor of the hall, through the door outside waited to drink her light, night rising deep in Equestria. She looked up, pitch black. Twinkles took all the attention but did little.
Why do we look at stars?
She wondered this to herself many times, realizing even one star, so close every pony looks to it to brighten their day, cannot light the night forever. The moon, half full, worked in shifts, because in the stars no pony noticed they could not see where to go, mesmerized.
Wind and air and clouds hugged her feathers so every flap and turn and inch of wing was in intimate embrace with cold, awakening breath. Surrounded in the night, not lifeless. Twilight saw the stars below.
A hundred streets with a hundred houses, a hundred ponies passing each second. A printing press, a house of stars, glimmered brighter in the night on its own, its light flying free, unchained from the sun anchor. Twilight landed on the roof where a pegasus platform was provided and accompanied with an eager pony, light shining around her pen.
She scribbled hastily and bade Twilight to come down into the building. Ink scented air filled her nose. Not from any printer, but from the raw number of pens and quills, spilling ink as words onto paper, thoughts given form but no less abstract being drafted.
“Every pony is wondering what the plan is to stop this from happening again.” The reporter had her own office, cramped with papers in every corner, window looking into the night. From the outside the lamp-lit room must have looked like a star. A square star.
“Magic safety laws: ponies who can, or wish to, cast combative magic have to be registered and taught spell safety.” Twilight kept her eyes on the reporter, who kept her eyes on her notepad. But the mind wanders, and Twilight’s found its way to the edge of her eye. Across the floor a stallion poured a cup of coffee for himself and a coworker. She chatted with a smile even while he had a frown. Twilight wondered.
“How can that be enforced?” The reporter’s head tilted, her pen aimed at Twilight, her light glowed around the pen; questions were to ignorance what love was to hate.
“To start, police stations and academies can offer training, but the plan is to create locations specifically to test unicorns and see if they’re fit to use combative spells.” A hundred ways that hundreds could turn on her, but this was the way it had to go.
“Magic largely revolves around natural talent. How will this plan regulate unicorns who can use dangerous spells but are considered unqualified when they register?”
The carpet wrapped up around Twilight. No black fog, the carpet was grey and soft and her hooves in it felt surrounded by a hundred tiny cushions. “Magic inhibitors can restrict specific spells. Here in Canterlot, young unicorns can be trained to cast that spell.”
“That’s a big risk, taking magic like that.” Her paper marked with lines, spider web of thoughts Twilight could not even guess where it touched. But this was its center, that question.
“We have to ask ourselves how much freedom we’re willing to give for security. If it’s none, then no pony can be safe.” Her mind cast back to a time when she was not free. Another time, another card. A soldier’s card. Taking orders was what she had to do for the freedom of others. Orders to kill.
Orders to die, if needed.
“I wish I had more to ask, but I can only have so much space in the weekend paper.” She got up, placed her notes in a drawer in the desk, and grabbed a cup of coffee for Twilight as they left the build. A fading star supernovas in time. They both drank coffee, the dark blood of countless processed beans that gave light to a dimming mind.
They talked a little more, a little more personal a little less professional. Favorite cakes, favorite movies, favorite themes and messages of said movies. Penning Wit liked to eat cheesecake while over--analyzing the characters in Dancing Galaxy, an old film about a civilization in space obsessed with dance.
And Twilight drank the coffee. And talked. And for once, stood on her own four hooves.
Whether it was him or not, she wasn’t sure. Twilight still wasn’t back from her trip and the sun was already rising. Starlight guessed that if the Card Master called her to Manehattan, he was likely there, meddling. She’d catch him, with bubble magic; not even cards can escape a bubble with no exit.
The one path to Manehattan saw a sprawling scene of grasslands and towns. Sometimes, clouds overhead became castles, sun raging against their walls. Shaded earth looked different, balancing Starlight in peaceful sadness.
34892 Fourth Apple Street, Apartment 27G
The short walk stretched her legs. City air: a cozy kind of constriction, towering giants on all sides of asphalt veins. No wonder so many ponies felt safe within, but Starlight couldn't savor that kind of feeling. Winding through the streets she wondered what would happen. How, and why, did the Card Master call her here?
27G was at the end of the hallway on the top floor of the apartment building. The time it took to reach Manehattan and find it turned the morning into evening. It wasn't that tall of a building, but it was near the top of a slope and looked over the parts of Manehattan beneath it.
The first thing Starlight noticed walking into the apartment was its furniture. The sofa was brown and velvet with memory foam. Pillows of warm colors, dandelion yellow and orange and scarlet layered across the sofa exuded the fragrance of peaches.
The coffee table before it was glass, its bowed legs forming an "X" that touched the glass tabletop in the center and curved down to the brown carpet with gold paisley detailing.
That all was to the left, a small living room warmly lit by frosted light bulbs masquerading as candles. The yellow incandescent light seemed to toast the walls, complementing the darker shade of yellow ochre paint.
A short hallway down led turned to the bedroom, while ahead was a space for both kitchen and dining table. The wood floor contrasted the light beige rug beneath the chestnut table. It could seat four comfortably, but only two chairs were pulled out and set with plates and glasses.
They were plain, but still of high quality. The glassware were tall and scrawny wine tasters, and the silverware polished to shine like stars. Starlight couldn't identify the wood for the dining table, a deeper color than oak, she suspected its was colonial maple or chestnut, but couldn't be sure.
Whatever the wood, it complemented the dual wall coloring. White moulding covered the lower half of the wall and fought against the deep yellow ochre. In the sleeping light of the sun, it seemed a lively orange.
Yet the kitchen was the centerpiece. Bright, golden onyx crafted into a rectangular frame of polished black stone glowed like a changing horizon. The island counter was a solid wave of soothing light, lamps above looking into the glassy and translucent onyx.
The countertops were, as well, radiant. But only the island counter was rebirth from top to bottom.
"Pretty nice, isn't it?" Starlight turned to the voice, the one in a light blue dress taking a seat at the table.
"Neat trick right?" She pointed to her necklace. "I can do so much more with this gem here in Equestria."
"What are you doing back here? Twilight's busy in Canterlot right now so I don't know what she's up to."
The oven rang, making Starlight jump. Sunset got up and bustled through the kitchen, placing the two hot trays on the stove to cool. One a steaming apple pie, the other a four cheese spinach pizza.
"I know what Twilight's doing, the Card Master showed me."
Starlight's mouth was ajar. "He's messing with you too? Are you here because you figured out a way to stop him?"
Sunset chuckled. "A short while ago, I would have liked to have a plan like that. When I first met the Card Master, I believed it was possible."
"So, why are you here then?" Starlight took a seat as Sunset set their food on the table.
Sunset floated out a bottle of Fillydelphia Fun Farm's Fizzing Cider and put it between them. "It's a good thing it's so easy to travel between worlds. I want to help out, here in Manehattan, like you have."
Sunset cut a slice of pizza for Starlight, who hesitated in thought. "What about your world? Or, your new world, I guess."
"Funny," Sunset smiled, pouring cider for the both of them, "sometimes I forget that this is where I came from. I'm nearly done with my major there, you know. Physiology."
"That's... nice." Starlight had met Sunset once, years ago. It seemed like as good of a time as any to catch up, but she wasn't so sure that was all.
"I'm helping others in that world, but it's not enough," Sunset explained between bites of pizza. "I'm not like you or Twilight, it's going to take a lot more time to build up connections to make a bigger difference. And I'm more than happy to do the work to get there, but..."
"You want to start making that change now." Starlight finished, understanding the feeling more than any pony could. "Well, maybe it's for the best then. A lot of Twilight's duties have been piling up."
Sunset furrowed her brow. "No."
Starlight stopped in the middle of a sip of cider. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not going to play princess and fix whatever odd problem pops up on some stupid map." Sunset bit crust off her pizza, not caring that if she struck a nerve with Starlight. Which she had, but the look of it.
Starlight put her hoof down on the table. "That map is connected to the Tree of Harmony. It hasn't given a single reason to doubt it."
A blank stare answered Starlight. Sunset reached her magic around a small envelope in her bedroom, floating it over and presenting it around the table. In single file pictures of empty facilities circled around the table.
"Twenty-nine dams and water treatment facilities are left unmaintained in Manehattan alone. Seventy-eight if you count the surrounding areas." Sunset returned the pictures to their envelope. "And don't get me started on the five bridges that haven't even been inspected for six or seven years."
Pushing aside her dinner, Starlight answered back. "The city has its own mayor. This isn't a friendship problem."
Sunset's face grimaced. "Neither are fillies and colts being attacked at-"
"Don't," Starlight cut off. "That's not a place you want to go, Sunset."
"Then help me help others." Sunset finished a second slice of pizza and, to Starlight's astonishment, took a slice of pie. "If you don't like architecture, fine. We could help solve the problem of ponies getting addicted to prescription painkillers after medical treatment."
"Sure, we'll just go and do that, I guess," Starlight replied sarcastically, finishing her cider and pouring another glass. "Problem over in ninety minutes."
"There's a lot of options and ideas on what the solution is." The pictures stop levitating and returned to their cozy envelope. Sunset acknowledged that the problems weren't easy to fix, but that was the point. "But none of them will matter if we don't try."
Starlight sat back in her chair. Sunset let her think about it, taking the time to enjoy her pie. In all the talk, Starlight's mind had wandered from her original assumption.
Now she returned to it. "Did the Card Master put you up to this?"
"In a way, yes." The answer was so matter-of-fact that it caught Starlight off guard. "But no more than how I put myself up to this."
Starlight wanted to say something, maybe accuse her of being swayed by evil magic, but Sunset was a friend of both her and Twilight, and she hated the idea of judging a friend. She instead sat quietly and listened.
Sunset was glad she was willing to hear her out. "The Card Master showed me that what we have, the magic of the Elements of Harmony, is a lie. It's not harmony. The table and the map, everything from the Tree is slowly throwing our world out of balance."
"But I've been called by the map to solve problems before." Starlight wasn't about to let her efforts be discredited so easily. "How can we throw things out of balance by solving problems?"
"Just look at Celestia now," replied Sunset. "She was the only alicorn in Equestria for nearly a thousand years. Every pony relies on her more than anything. And then it was the Tree of Harmony. Then, the responsibility went to Twilight and her friends. Now the Card Master's distracted her, and the responsibilities shift to you."
Starlight pushed her cider away, leaning into the table a little. "New flash, I guess I might know so much about your world, but here in Equestria things change."
"No they don't." Sunset rose to the challenge. "It's nothing but a wheel of time. One savior after another, we always look to something to solve our problems."
"Some problems are too big to be solved alone, Sunset." Starlight got out of her seat and made for the door. "If you can't see that then we're done talking."
"And one of these days we won't be lucky enough to have a Starlight Glimmer to save the day." Sunset's words froze her for just a second. In one second she understood the meaning. The Card Master showed her a lot, but that amulet had gotten stronger and showed her more.
"You looked into my memories?" Starlight turned to Sunset feeling invaded.
The pony whom she wanted to be her friend stood by the window that was between the dining room and the kitchen. The dying sunlight was almost at rest. Scant shimmering beams across the black sky tickled the apartment so finely decorated, now losing hold.
"Twilight doesn't share everything," Sunset admitted with regret. "I only saw what you did to stop Chrysalis."
Starlight's faced turned to anger. "How could you? I didn't say you could-"
"It's not about me!" Sunset snapped back. "Be honest. It was luck that saved Equestria, wasn't it. It was luck that you weren't taken with the rest, and it was luck that Thorax escaped the Crystal Empire in time. Flip a coin a hundred times, and just because you get a hundred tails, doesn't change the odds of the next flip."
"We would have found a way to cope," Starlight pushed, but that seemed like a lie. She was angry at Sunset, even hating her, but what she said resonated in her. Power was centralized in just a few key ponies. It wasn't even hard for Chrysalis to tear it all down.
Sunset could see the look of doubt. "It's not wrong to doubt the world we live in. It's the only way our faith in it can work. I believe we can make it a better, safer place. But I doubt this is how we have to do it."
Starlight threw herself onto the couch, scattering a couple of the pillows onto the floor and burying her head in the remaining ones. When she was still planning revenge against Twilight, she had read a lot about the old mythologies of the Tree of Harmony, even texts written by ancient Callers from the Crystal Empire.
Its will touched every corner of the world, through time. It was the map that was the key to unrestricted time travel. If the Tree placed the map there, then it was for a good reason. But Sunset made a good point, too. The responsibility of protecting Equestria was too centralized, and so few ponies, no matter how powerful, couldn't always be counted on.
"Help me, Starlight." Sunset spoke quietly, almost pleadingly, to convince her friend. Starlight was the next generation for harmony as long as she was ready to accept the changing world.
"The human world is nothing like yours. There are no saviors and magic, but the problems stay the same. You told me once that we have to live in the moment and not worry about the future. I wanted to believe you, but that's not the real world."
Starlight looked at her. "If it's not real then what have I been living?"
"I don't know. But Equestria is a place where ponies know higher powers exist to defend them and make everything perfect." Starlight refused it inside, because she was far from perfect, like everything in her life was.
"For years I've only seen friendship guide the people in my world, like councilors resolving problems in college dorms, or total strangers empathizing with and helping victims of terrible crimes. I've never felt more alive than when I've struggled with others."
And that was it. There was the understanding. Starlight didn't know why the Card Master did what he did to Twilight, but this was something she could understand.
Sunset had a world worth living in where greed and lust and envy and wrath and gluttony fought with the hearts of the people, who used altruism and restraint and discussion to reshape the world with true magic.
No easy power was cooperation. Through it problems passed and some suffered but the world was bettered with legacy of goodwill. What Equestria was one problem to another, a game of trying to keep all the vileness hidden. The pieces change but it is always the same game in Equestria.
If a better world through different means was what the Card Master could give, Starlight was willing to accept that possibility.
"Say I help you. Where would we start?"
"Choose a problem, then find the root of it." Sunset waved her hoof out, back to her dining table. "Then, we can make a plan to try and end the problem."
"And you haven't heard him since last week?" Luna was perplexed at the news. Twilight had gained some control of her own dreams, but last she saw, the Card Master was still present and unrelenting. She didn't show it, but Luna tested the magic in Twilight's dream tenderly with her horn.
There wasn't a change. Twilight hadn't gained more power over dreamwalking, and there was a definite feeling of the Card Master's presence. But the dreams had stopped.
It must have been nearly dawn by now, Luna thought. All night Twilight divulged everything she had seen from the Card Master. Worlds long forgotten, and whether they were truly part of their timeline or not didn't seem to matter.
Even Celestia hadn't warmed up beyond a few details of what transpired between her and the Card Master, and that was a long time ago. Even more impressive was the lightness of the dream.
They sat in at the map of Twilight's castle, or at least a dream version of it. The walls rippled slightly, the details unclear, but there was no interference of emotion or pain. The dream felt like diving into a cold stream trickling down a mountain from its glacial peaks.
"He never once explained what the purpose of those visions were," Twilight said. "Could that be the point, to let me figure it out by myself?"
"I can feel he is near," Luna said grimly, shaking her head. "He may be waiting for a time to strike. From the games he has played, with me as well as my sister, I'm afraid all he does is purely for his own amusement. Perhaps constant harassment doesn't interest him as much, but you may not be free of him yet."
Twilight looked down at her dream map. In her head, she could picture everything happening on it. She dreamed of Fluttershy's work in Fillydelphia, trying to start a new animal conservatory for aquatic animals. And she saw Rainbow Dash flying over the skies of Whinneapolis for the start of a Wonderbolts tour in memory of Manehattan Central Schoolhouse for Fillies and Colts.
"I don't understand all of it," she whispered, but her voice grew in conviction. "But I sit by with what I do know. The world is like a tree, all wrapped up and connected. I can't be stuck fixing unrelated friendship problems and live up to the Tree of Harmony."
"Celestia has already approved the changes you suggested." Not that there was much choice after the heavy press coverage, Luna considered in silence.
"And for now, we'll have to wait and see where it goes." Twilight's horned glowed as she changed the scene of her dream to an undeveloped field beside Ponyville. "But I've been thinking of something else."
In seconds Twilight's dream conjured wooden planks and roof tiles to build a lecture hall similar to the one in Celestia's school. "This one will be my contribution. Friendship is important, but that doesn't mean I can ignore the growing STAM fields."
Science, Technology, Advanced Magic. Three fields essential fields of study for young unicorns. But there were scant few pegasi and earth ponies.
Luna's made her displeasure apparent with a frown at Twilight. "The Card Master cannot be drowned out in work. Celestia already tried."
"But I think this is part of what he wants," Twilight said, waving a victorious hoof at the building she dreamed up. "Caller Weaver never needed to see the Tree of Harmony to improve the lives of Crystal Ponies. He didn't even know if he heard it or not."
"Heard?" Luna whispered to herself under Twilight's rambling. Surely she knew the Tree had never spoken, not even when she and Celestia took its elements to defeat Discord.
"I don't have to listen to the map anymore." Twilight expanded the school, dreaming of cafes and bookstores for students and new labs and crystal databases for experiments. "The world is bigger, so I have to dream bigger."
Despite her warnings, Luna felt her voice drowned out in the dream waves. The grass grew blurrier and so did she.
"It's nearing morning, Twilight. Before I leave, I advise caution. The Card Master hasn't left you, I can still feel him here, his presence is..."
The Hunter moved swiftly, even around the powerful magic of this other mutant. Alicorns, the ponies of this time called them. A sunbeam blasted her blade, but the night silver denied the magic so powerfully that its heat was ejected backwards as well.
Celestia could see him, standing by the Tree of Harmony. The cave was open, and he was there in the open. Last time, she was at the mercy of his games, and he escaped only by taking her by surprise. Now she would end the scourge and his mental torment.
Twilight was in Canterlot. This thing that stood in her way was another copy, like the copy of her sister in the card games he played. But without saying a word it was evident the Card Master had brought a true fighter, stronger than any of the worthless villains he called "bosses."
Celestia took to the sky, raining beams of fire from the sun onto the cave and the Hunter. Rock and dirt melted to glass, but it only took a few efficient parries to deflect the magic.
Two small orbs were thrown up to Celestia's face. The moment she noticed them, night silver shrapnel exploded through the air and buried into her wings as she covered herself. The metal seared her skin, ripping magic from her body until she was forced to land, where the Hunter waited to strike.
Celestia tumbled away, followed by a jet of fire erupting from her horseshoe. The flames beat uselessly against her magic barrier however, thanks to the night silver in her wings, the moment she cast that spell, the shield shattered.
Two quick cuts grazed her cheek and shoulder. Celestia locked horns with the Hunter and pressed forward, using her magic and size to give her strength. The Hunter effortlessly pivoted, turning away with the path of least resistance and letting Celestia pass and trip onto the ground.
The Princess of the Sun growled, her voice turning into a muffled scream before she could recover. She ground her teeth with pain as the blade of the Hunter's sword penetrated her leg, destroying muscle and tendons and scraping against bone.
Stop.
The Hunter stood back, letting the Card Master tread over the charred and glassy stone toward the Princess of the Sun.
"If you're here then Twilight is free of you, isn't she?" Celestia didn't expect to lose so quickly to a minion of the Card Master, but her loss didn't necessitate his victory. "It means she's bested your efforts. You don't control her."
I never wanted to best her. Oh no, we've reached a certain understanding.
Celestia tried to insult him, or blast a beam of magic in his head, but the sword in her leg burned like fire and sapped her of energy.
His hoof unraveled into a rope of single-file cards. They wrapped around Celestia's neck in a snake-like fashion and slowly constricted her neck to the point of near discomfort. The pressure was strong, but she could still breathe.
His cards wrapped up to her face, even covering her vision slightly, and he tilted her head back and forth. His other hoof combed her hair as it lost magic and slowed it natural flow, the gentle caress only draining Celestia further.
"What you can do doesn't matter," she said with stifled breath.
Sweet Princess, there are a lot of things I can do. To this world, and to you. I can fold reality and bend time, teleport and teach with a wave of a hoof or hand. No thoughts are private to my ears. But for you, I will bring you peace.
Luna pulled from the dream world as fast as she could. In the air she could feel the Card Master's magic.
"Celestia?" She called out for her sister, hoping to find her before she faced the Card Master. The extent of his power outside of his cards and tricks were unclear, neither of them had actually fought him, but between the two of them they had a good chance of victory.
She rushed into Celestia's room. The sun hadn't risen yet, so she must have been asleep.
Hello, Moon.
He stood there with her sister collapsed on the floor. Her leg was injured, and her wings were spread across the floor, dotted with metal shards.
"Sister!" Celestia's cry was hoarse and strained. She could barely move.
It didn't take a second for Luna to burst out, levitating the bed and drawers in the room and collapsing it onto the Card Master. She reached out with her magic and pulled Celestia to the door, safely behind her. Yet one by one the cards crawled, fluttered, floated, out of the pile of splintered furniture.
He was a flock of a million birds, emerging from the forest at once in an explosion of movement that compelled emotion and awe.
Are you going to take your time?
Luna followed his head as he gave a telltale turn toward the corner of the room, behind the door. A forceful blast tore the wood from its hinges and flung Luna across the room. Her vision blurred from the force, focusing too late on the glint of the sword slashing across her chest.
The didn't run too deep, but it burned her whole body down to the bone. Still, nightmares have wrought more pain, and she held back the pain and moved around her attacker.
"I know who you are," she said to the Hunter. "Twilight has told me about you. About the time loop the Card Master keeps you in. Do you really believe he will free you if you kill us?"
The Hunter shrugged and leveled the point of her blade at Luna. "Worth a shot."
Celestia warned her sister, wincing at the slightest movements with night silver cutting into her shoulders. "Luna, just leave."
"Nothing can separate us," Luna denied, firing a splitting beam of magic. Six light violet rays spanned outward and surrounded the Hunter. It was close, the Hunter weaving through the manipulated bolts of energy like a spider dancing on its own web.
A step too far, however, and a bolt struck her armor. The wall caved to her body as she was blown back by the incredible force. The Card Master took two steps back to avoid some rubble.
In the settling dust, only Celestia noticed the three glass vials clinking to Luna's hooves. "Luna, the ground!"
Before she could react, Luna was thrown up by an explosion of noxious gas. The vials splattered their contents on the walls, and a secondary reaction between them filled the room with smoke. Luna formed a field around her head, conserving magic for another attack to destroy the Card Master's champion.
"I have to admit, I have a lot of questions." The Hunter's voice was clear but came from no where in particular. "But you've got about thirty seconds anyway, so I probably won't get an answer."
"I don't have to see you!" Luna expanded her field, flattening everything in the room against the walls, even throwing her sister farther away from the fight.
The Hunter leaned against the doorway, reeling from the blast. Multiple bones were likely cracked, and something in her foreleg was definitely broken, but she still smiled at Luna.
"That wasn't a smoke screen for cover," she coughed. "You should have shielded yourself completely. That was a contact poison, a base recipe of Stymphalian venom and white phosphorous, with ground night silver as an added effect."
Luna's heart beat faster, a beat of fear and anger and dread. Her skin went cold and numb and her legs, though still working, felt empty and powerless under the dead weight of her torso.
The Princess of the Moon launched a ball of energy in the likeness of the moon. It evaporated pillows and splintered wood on its flight. It dissipated at the touch of the Hunter's blade, but not immediately.
Hatred fueled the spell and it persisted far longer than any magic had before. The steel turned red, the blade staring to warp under the stress. The Hunter had to channel her aura through her sword just to protect it from irreparable damage.
How impressive. More of a fight than your poor sister. But here you are, while Twilight the Hunter still stands.
Luna looked up at the Card Master standing over her. He bent down and reached into her chest, his cards fusing with flesh. She wanted to scream, shout at him to get away, but he was inside her and stifled her voice, stuffing it with the screams and calls of a million cards.
He tore away when it became unbearable, letting her collapse fully onto the floor.
You may go now, Hunter.
She held up a card she had stored in the pocket of her armor. "Time has returned?"
Yes.
She needed to hear nothing else. The Hunter walked out the hallway, passing the broken body of Celestia without so much as a glance. The Card Master listened: Luna's strained breathing, Celestia's pained sounds from seeing her sister defeated, and the Hunter's hoof steps.
The same body as the Princess, but the Hunter managed to carry it with far more confidence and conviction.
The Hunter had a husband with fine taste.
Luna stared up, unable to move and barely able to breathe. She looked at the card he had pulled from her chest, floating with a back bearing her cutie mark. The face of the card, a half moon.
The Card Master looked outside the shattered windows at the darkening sun. But it was still morning. Minutes ticked by, like watching a ship sail away until the lights of its deck was a glint on the horizon, until a figure cloaked black surrounded with an aura of gold emerged from the shadow of eclipse.
Celestia forced herself through pain to see it, to see the shame she thought she escaped. At last the false sister the Card Master had created for his twisted games had arrived to haunt her again.
Luna scowled. She did not see herself, but a faded image of the past. She would not run or deny it, but it held no sway over her. "Nightmare Moon is gone. This card may be locked in the past but I have grown."
And grow more you shall.
The mare glared down at both the crippled princesses, stretching a smirk across her face. She laughed, finally, reveling in the sight.
"I have outgrown you as well, weakling." The nightmare put her foreleg to the back of Luna's head and forced it to the floor. "I am beyond you and your pitiful sister. The Card Master has shown me that harmony can exist between night and day, sun and moon. I just have to whip the sun into submission."
"Nightmare Moon, leave her be!" Celestia shot a ray of sunlight at the nightmare. Her words were a hoarse scream, a guise to mask the agony the night silver cause when she used magic. "I am here. Finish what we started, but leave her alone!"
"Not Nightmare Moon." She stood higher, as if looking farther down on the princess who had bested her before could make her stronger. "The Card Master has chosen me to lead this world. You, who shut off from the world for years because of his game, are not fit. I am the sun and moon as one. I am Eclipse."
A ripping sound more guttural than a starving mongrel, a shaking and shattering earthquakes only dreamed about, where all the planets and stars stopped in the heavens and looked down on the actions of the almighty; he tore the card in half.
Eclipse didn't understand. She fought both princesses, she was suppose to learn from them and become the new ruler of Equestria, to guide it to a new image. What was this pain, of loss, of knowing reality's cold void?
"Master, what are you doing? We-"
Shtock.
A stone caught in her throat silenced Eclipse.
Creation and destruction have always walked the same path. Through you I have pushed the Princesses to their rightful place. And now to achieve the change we so desire, I need to you create a new Princess of the Night.
No pony said a word. All three, gods among mortal ponies, were nothing to the infinite mass of cards warping and changing before them. They all could feel but not understand the alignment of harmony.
Now, Eclipse, I beseech you. Please die.
Half-spoken, gasping words left Eclipse's mouth. Rage, sorrow, fury, confusion. A storm raged within her, against the Card Master. But no storm ever changed the shape of the world. Pieces fell off: first skin peeled and wilted into void shadows dying in the light of the eclipse, followed by cracking muscle and bone.
The light returned. The moon sailed away. All natural movements.
Celestia watched the death of Eclipse but Luna felt it. The burning of the contact poison ceased, though her legs were still paralyzed. A large part of her was dying as she watched. The moon had left the eclipse and, like losing a horn or a leg, Luna felt it leave her too.
There was, however, a certain lightness to it. "What did you do to me?"
You've held the magic of the moon long enough. I returned it. It shall move on its own accord.
Luna's eyes widened. Half of her responsibilities as a princess of Equestria was just eliminated. The card, Eclipse, was planted within her and he let it fester until he could tear the magic away, Luna realized. Her thoughts grew more erratic.
Please, you make it so dramatic. Your thoughts sound like Rarity.
"Do you plan to do the same with me?" The Card Master turned to Celestia's words.
No, you will plan to do the same to yourself. You sister is mortal now.
The two sisters traded shocked looks. Losing each other, they thought, was impossible. Even when banished, Celestia knew Luna would return. A thousand years was still a short moment in the span of eternity. But that magic was gone for Luna now.
"How can I be sure you're not lying?"
Well, I'm not.
Luna struggled up, feeling strength returning to her body. "Celestia, he's telling the truth. I can feel it, just look at me." She gestured to her mane. Drained of magic, her hair flowed sluggishly.
Your sister will live a full, mortal life. I could even give her a new form to walk peacefully among the population. But you will be alone if you do not give up the sun.
"And then we'd live together and die together," Celestia whispered, looking only at her sister. Twilight, Cadence, she had many friends, but her sister was beyond short affections. They founded Equestria together, fought Discord and Sombra together, and got over their differences together.
Pain slid away, and Celestia rose with her head held low, eyes streaming. "If I can live with my sister in peace, then I accept your offer."
"Celestia," Luna whispered. She had not further words. She could have tried to stop her, but a large part of her wanted to live a complete life with her sister.
If they were mortal, more ponies would have to step up to fill their place, and their days and nights would not be crammed with endless tasks.
The Card Master's cheeks raised. A mannequin made of a swarm of cards, his smile was far more subtle. He waved his hoof and the night silver in Celestia's wings vanished.
Unfortunately, giving the power willingly is a far more painless process. I won't even have to cultivate your darker half. So sorry if you wanted to suffer with your sister.
Her mane immediately began to weigh down, but her body felt lighter; the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders. "It feels so, relaxing."
And now you will truly live as part of the world.
"Is there a catch?" Celestia looked at her sister. "You said you took the moon from her. Does that include her power over dreams?"
No. You will keep the rest of your powers for however much time you have left. When you die, your magic will return to the world. Luna's energy will defend dreams, whether or not a sentient creature guides it. And you, Queen of Princesses, will become one with the Otherworld, where Twilight was granted her status.
"I don't understand, how will my magic still work after I die?" Luna could still feel the tug of dreams, even as ponies woke to start their day. Their dreams were a feeling, and without a pony to feel, her magic was directionless.
Neither of you will control your power once you die. You will end, and ascend to a new state of being, integrated into the will of the world. Luna, your magic and your mind will cease to be separate. You will become the power of dreams.
"And me?" If she was to be forced to accept the new world envisioned by the Card Master, she would at least know all its rules.
Whatever the princesses of Equestria stand for, that is what your voice will become. Morality, permeating the minds of all leaders.
Neither of them had anything more to say or do. The Card Master clapped his hooves together.
Right, I see you have some time to think about it. You haven't even decided if you want to take on a new form. I know your answer, of course, but I don't want to spoil it. So, if you will excuse me, I have a tree to go talk to.
Am I worried about Celestia and Luna? Of course. It's been a year since any pony saw them. The royal guards found blood samples and confirmed that both princesses were attacked in Celestia's room. Any guard that could have been a witness was killed, cut apart by a fine blade.
Traces of an unknown metal were found. I know what it is, of course. I used night silver when I was Twilight the Hunter. But now I'm just Twilight, overseeing the first class to join her college, Equestria United. STAM classes begin in a week, and some textbooks were still being shipped from Vanhoover.
The strange thing was the sun and moon. Most of Equestria didn't even notice the princesses were gone during the first few days. They move on their own.
I've tried entering the dream world many times, using what Luna taught me. But everything was to fix my own dreams, not enters others. I still can't take her place and defend the night. Though, there hasn't been an increase of nightmare complaints.
Apparently the number of councilor and psychologist positions have increased though. Thanks to Starlight, ponies in Manehattan knew exactly where they could go to help or be helped. The Foundation of Manehattan Scholars, the Equestria Health Society, and the Youth for Urban Development, were all committed to holding up the city through unity.
Without good mares and stallions working for those causes, I don't know if the city could stand without the princesses. Rainbow Dash was so inspired, she started the Athlete Society in Equestria, and Rarity's been asking me to help her make an art center in one of the toughest neighborhoods in Vanhoover.
I'm sure a part of her interest is opening another clothing store there, but an art center would be a great place for ponies to find their passion and make a better atmosphere for young ponies growing up with far less fortune than others.
It's an interesting world we've made for ourselves, one more independent from the princesses. How ironic that I say that, but it's true. Really, the staff of my school is more than capable of making decisions without me.
Everything in my room looks the same, but it still changes. The way I look at it, maybe. Sunset's book sits by my bed now; she writes almost every day about the people she helps. I never realized that a world like hers could have had more harmony by having less magic.
Now as I sit and listen for his voice again, I hear the conversation between the Tree of Harmony and the Card Master. Caring but impulsive, the Tree wanted to defend her children and our world, regardless of the bigger picture.
And the Card Master, sitting on his high tower of existence, wanted to operate in his natural and comfortable way. He was the multiverse that the Tree of Harmony was forcing to change.
But harmony can't be a force, so he made a compromise to rejoin with his other half. He guided us to the harmony she, the Tree, wished to create. In doing so he pulled us away from strained idols and the expectation of salvation. But he was sure to never intervene, because harmony can't be a force. It must be a choice.
We make it an effort, to work endlessly because we know the end goal can never be achieved but only temporary moments of victory and satisfaction are worth it. We make it a choice, to seek the world we live in instead of transcending it. How lonely it must be to rule as two, unlike any other.
The time of monster hunters, when ponies believed in spirits and gods. Perhaps times haven't changed so much.
I am Twilight Sparkle, but I am also the Hunter and the Soldier and the Princess. I am also the Card Master, just like every pony. I choose to be him with my legacy. I choose to throw myself to the world and let it swallow me, define me, use me.
The food we eat shapes who we are. The world consumes all, so that we may shape it. And yes, there is chaos in harmony, because chaos denies order. Order and harmony are not the same.
I learned that from the Callers. Order is a command, controlling every pony to fit a set of ideals and beliefs. Sometimes beliefs are wrong; pure order can never know if chaos and change are not allowed. Harmony is a discussion, a conversation on the solution to future challenges.
I thought I knew the difference. I thought I had taught the difference to Starlight. She created slaves in the name of order. They may have been fooled but were ultimately unwilling.
What about the willing slaves: those who submit to order because they think its too hard to stand in the wild discussion of harmony?
We princesses managed ponies who followed the rules because that's what we said was right. We had our own beliefs and saw them do what we thought was the greatest good possible. What we see and what we believe are both often wrong.
I have faith in the world but I have doubt that this is the best we can do. And that's Harmony.
Aurora and Moondust rushed around their house looking for everything they had to bring.
"I can't believe we're going to be late for our first Parent-Teacher meeting." Moondust levitated a manila folder of parent petitions. She bounded it with a string to stop it from overflowing.
Aurora's wings fumbled with the box of glass presentation slides. "And I can't believe this thing is so hard to hold on to. Trade ya?"
They switched so Moondust levitated the easily cracked slides while Aurora had the papers that were less so. Moondust picked up the keys and locked the door on their way out.
Living in the suburbs of Vanhoover gave a certain amount of peace, at the price of no taxis. Vanhoover West Academy was fifteen minutes away if they galloped.
Aurora looked over the picket fences of the surrounding houses. Their neighborhood sat on a low hill, its road long and winding. There was always another way.
"Remember the last time we had fun?" She cast a childish smirk at her sister.
Moondust eyed her back. "That was nearly a year ago, when we first moved here. We didn't even have jobs at Vanhoover West."
"Well if we had that hot air balloon I wanted to buy, we wouldn't be in this mess." She started checking the houses to make sure no pony could see them running through other backyards.
Moondust rolled her eyes and picked a white painted house, the one that belonged to a rich family that was always away on vacations and trips. "We're not cancelling heating just to save for that overpriced balloon. Race ya."
Moondust was the younger, but her energy was overshadowed by her pegasus sister's natural athleticism. Even with the stack of papers, her hooves glided along the fences she ran over, balancing effortlessly with her wings outstretched.
"You're picking up those papers if you drop them," taunted Moondust. Her sister only laughed and warned her to keep the glass slides close.
They jumped in and out of countless gardens, vegetable patches, and flower beds. They didn't make it to the meeting in time, but they had fun trying anyways, regardless of the stares at their mildly muddy hooves.
So began their first year working at VWA, Aurora teaching history and economics and coaching cross-country flying, while Moondust taught Magic and Science and supervised five clubs on campus.
Thirty classes graduated under them, all having a unique memory to cherish. One year Aurora broke her wing demonstrating a flight path in the middle of the storm, but finished it anyways. Another year, Moondust used the wrong spell during an alchemy lab and cancelled school for two days.
The scorch marks are still on some of the desks.
And nine hundred alumni from their school, all accomplished doctors and athletes and chemists and managers and more, stood somber with Moonlight at the funeral of her sister. Another was held shortly after for Moonlight, while a drunk taxi driver was charged with slaughter.
Nine hundred branches, with families and children in every city of Equestria. Thousands of ponies performing thousands of tasks every day to change the world, inspired by their teachers, or their parent's teachers, Aurora and Moonlight.
Their final moments were more silent than Celestia and Luna's, but their legacy were the stars. We never notice its there, and take it for granted.
