> The Wind Thief
>  by Cold in Gardez
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The legends told of their return.

For over a decade Equestria has been beset by the dragons. Every year more villages vanish in flames, and the lonely cities stand as our last redoubt. Winter has gripped the world, and our hope is fading.

But the legends tell of another, a light in the darkness. The Dragonborn, a mythic warrior reborn with the power of the Voice, the only one who can stand against the dragons.

But when she appeared, she was not what we were expecting... 


The Wind Thief
Prologue


The guard was not an amused pony.
To be fair, he was not in an amusing situation. A faint crust of blood still stained his muzzle, left over from a stray hoof to the face during the struggle. That any pony in their right mind would dare toss a punch at him was something of a miracle – he seemed to be hewn from bare rock, more so even than most earth ponies. His armor was almost an afterthought, resting atop his shoulder like the lid on a tea kettle. Legs like tree trunks ended in hooves polished to a regulation shine, blemished with faint scuff marks from the fight.
The subject of his ire sat on the far side of a set of bars, keeping company with a filthy straw mat and bucket. Her light blue coat was dull beneath a layer of grime and dust well on its way to acquiring the permanency of a tattoo. She wore nothing but a slim iron ring fastened to the base of her horn, blocking her magic. The last she had seen her clothes – not to mention weapons, potions, scrolls and armor – they were being packed into a chest in the guards’ armory. Since neither the mat nor the bucket was very talkative, she conversed with the guard instead.
“…and that’s how your mother met your father,” she finished, waving a hoof with a flourish. “At least, according to every bard I met between here and Fillydelphia. Did you know they have seven different songs dedicated to her legendary promiscuity?”
The guard stared back at her, stoic and silent.
She waited a moment for some further reaction, but to no avail. Her other attempts at conversation had been equally unsuccessful: flattery, reason, argument and finally insults had all fallen flat. He was the most disciplined guard in Canterlot. Or maybe he was deaf.
“Look,” she tried again. “This is horseapples. I’m a hero. That stallion was a bully. Every shopkeeper in the market was paying him money for ‘protection.’ I should get a reward for taking him down a peg!”
The guard was unmoved.
“Yes, maybe there was a bit of property damage, but you know how cheap those stalls are. A stiff wind and they’ll fall over. It’s not like anyone was hurt!”
The guard raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously hurt,” she amended. “And I’d like to apologize again for hitting you. If I’d known you were a guard, I never would have fought back.”
He snorted. The sound of a door opening and closing echoed down from the floor above them, followed by the sound of hooves on stone.
She scooted closer to the bars, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Okay, here’s the truth. You’ve heard those stories about the legendary ‘Dragonborn?’ The one who’s come to save Equestria from the dragon hordes?” She paused. “Well, I don’t want to brag or anything, but that’s me they’re talking about.”
A faint chuckle escaped from the guard. It was the first sound he’d made since they met hours ago in the market.
“I know it sounds crazy,” she continued. “I didn’t believe it at first, either, but—"
The huge wooden door at the end of the prison block swung open with a rattle and thud. A second guard pony, practically indistinguishable from the first, poked his head in.
“Pack her up,” he shouted down the long corridor. “Princess wants to see her.” The door closed with a resounding slam.



	
She demanded her clothes and a bucket of water before she would get out of the cell. They gave her a bucket’s worth of water, unceremoniously dumped on her head and soaking her powder blue mane into limp strands that clung to her face. Slightly cleaner, she decided to consider that a victory.
They didn’t bother shackling her legs. Physically, she was no threat to the hulking guards that stood on either side, and as fast as she could run, pegasi could fly much, much faster. Without her magic or weapons, she looked as harmless as a kitten.
She did her best to encourage that perception.
It was a long walk from the jail to the palace. Ponies stepped quickly out of the way of the guards, leaving a clear avenue through the crowded streets. It wasn’t a bad way to travel, if one could ignore the fact that it began, and likely ended, in a jail cell.
The shops around them grew steadily larger and richer as they approached the palace. Packed dirt roads gave way to gravel, then to cobblestones with actual gutters lining the streets. Open-air vegetable stalls were replaced by bakers and candlestick makers, followed by clothiers and jewelers. The pedestrians around them went through a similar change, the dull colors of earth pony laborers slowly being replaced by the brighter pastels of pegasi and unicorns. The air seemed fresher, but also thinner, fraught with tension. Even the wealthiest ponies bore an air of nervousness, their eyes darting up to the sky every couple of steps.
A sign of the times, she reflected. Dragons didn’t care how rich their food was.
The palace itself was everything she had heard. It clung to the side of a cliff thousands of feet above the rest of the city. Spectacular fountains lined the path, featuring fantastical carvings of ponies, gods and monsters. A leering manticore spouted water into a basin; a pegasus, mortally wounded by a spear, bled a trickle of water down its stone side. Birds flocked around the statues, flapping away whenever ponies drew too near.
The path wound up the mountainside, passing through the gardens on the way to the palace proper. Ancient topiaries dotted the landscape alongside trees. Dozens of gardeners roamed the grounds, pulling carts and carefully tending to the flower beds and larger plants.  It was a peaceful, soothing scene, marred by the faint acrid tang of smoke carried on the wind.
The path turned around a tall hedge, and she stumbled to a halt. A huge swath of the gardens was charred to ruins, covered by a thick, smokey haze. Topiaries and trees were reduced to burnt stumps, alongside massive furrows carved into the earth. Boulders, statues and parts of smaller buildings littered the grounds, tossed about like toys. At the far end of the destruction, dozens of ponies labored around what looked at first like a giant impressionist sculpture, until a breeze cleared away the concealing pall.
The dragon’s skeleton still smoldered. Bits of ash glowed and lifted away from its bones, drifted through the air, then cooled to a somber grey and settled onto the ground like snow. The laborers ignored the ash as they worked, sawing away at the body and loading pieces onto carts. About half of the dragon was left, it looked like.
“That’s a big one,” she whispered. 
One of her guards snorted. “Wasn’t big enough. Keep moving.” A kick to her flank propelled her forward a few steps. Within a few moments the dragon’s remains were out of sight again behind a tall row of hedges.
Beyond the gardens lay Canterlot Keep, seat of the Equestrian government and perhaps the single greatest concentration of wealth in the world. The castle was a wonder, a dream carved from marble and glass. She resolved to come back to get a better view of the place later when she wasn’t being hustled through the back corridors by her humorless escorts.
They spent what felt like hours waiting in a small anteroom. It had no furniture, so she sat on the cold flagstones while the guards stood. If that bothered them, they gave no sign. After her third attempt to engage them in conversation, one of them produced a leather muzzle from his saddlebags, and set it down in front of him. She took the hint, and spent the rest of her time contemplating the virtues of silence.
Finally, a third guard appeared. Some subtle gesture passed between them, and they escorted her down another set of corridors. The new guard stopped them at a non-descript wood door, knocked once, then entered. They followed.
She blinked at the sudden change in atmosphere. Unlike the bare stone corridors, the large room practically screamed “wealth.” The walls were completely lined with mahogany bookcases, holding tens of thousands of tomes. Some shelves were bare of books, instead bearing glowing crystals, intricate vases, even a few polished antique swords and shields. She unconsciously drifted closer to the weapons, her eyes filled with avarice, until a stern look from one of the guards froze her in place. She grinned innocently at him.
A door on the other side of the library opened, and a purple unicorn mare wearing a set of flowing grey robes trotted through. Her head was turned over her shoulder to speak with the pony behind her in hushed tones.
The second pony entered, and the room grew brighter in her presence. Her coat, a brilliant white with the faintest hint of pink, sparkled like new-fallen snow. A pastel mane more a cloud than mere hair flowed in an unfelt breeze. The only living pony in Equestria with both horn and wings towered over the rest of the room, easily twice as tall as the guards. Celestia graced them with a warm smile, then turned her gaze to the prisoner, who was doing her best to look small and harmless.
“So, you’re the pony who turned the harbor market upside-down,” Celestia said. She walked over to a large table at the center of the library, where a goblet of wine was already waiting for her. A glowing light surrounded the goblet, and it lifted to her mouth for a sip.
The prisoner coughed politely. “That’s an exaggeration, your majesty. Yes, a few stalls were damaged, but honestly that market wasn’t in good condition to begin with. If you didn’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t even know—"
“They say you shouted,” interrupted the purple unicorn. She had walked behind the prisoner and was examining her from all angles as one might inspect an insect. “That you knocked over a stallion and the stalls with only your voice. Where did you learn that?”
“Ah, well, just something I picked up somewhere,” she said, looking back and forth between Celestia and her new interrogator. “It’s not that unusual. I hear lots of ponies can do it.”
“A few ponies can,” Celestia said. She set the wine down on the table and leaned closer. “Ponies who have spent years studying the words of power, dedicating their lives to unlocking the Thu’um within themselves. But – and please don’t take this wrong – you don’t seem like that kind of pony.”
“Would you believe that I have many hobbies?”
The princess chuckled. A scrap of paper on the table glowed and lifted into the air before her.
“Hobbies. Yes, I would believe that,” she said, her eyes flicking down the page. “Let’s see. Sly, is it? Aside from your weapons and armor, you were carrying three different sets of identification, a dozen lockpicks, magic scrolls for everything from charmed speech to invisibility, and several thousand bits worth of jewelry. Jewelry, it should be added, apparently belonging to a noble family that recently reported a theft at their mansion.”
“There’s no way to prove any of that,” Sly said. “Lots of ponies have jewelry. I bet we could ask any pony on the street if they have jewelry like that and they--”
“You stole his signet ring,” the unicorn interrupted again. She was starting to get on Sly’s nerves. “It had his initials carved into it.”
Celestia laughed quietly, filling the room with joy. “I’m afraid Twilight Sparkle is correct,” she said, glancing at the purple unicorn. “As little sympathy as I have for that particular noble, we’ll be taking those back.”
Sly huffed. This wasn’t going the way she wanted, much less the way she had expected. She squinted at the princess.
“What’s this really about?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you personally question everypony arrested in your city. There’s not enough hours in the day.”
Twilight Sparkle answered. “Not everypony, no. But you’re not everypony, are you?” She poked curiously at Sly’s star-and-moon cutie mark, provoking a yelp.
“Hey, hooves to yourself!” she growled. She did her best to ignore the chuckles from the guards.
“What Twilight means is that we almost never see ponies who know the Thu’um,” Celestia said. “We certainly don’t arrest many. Where did you learn to do that?”
“Um, it’s a hobby?” The two mares stared at her, unconvinced. She sighed.
“Fine,” she continued. “I was hoping to save this for a more, uh... formal setting, but you’ve given me no choice.” She drew herself up to her full height, which still left her the shortest pony in the room by several inches. “I am the Dragonborn,” she said with all the dignity she could muster.
There was a short silence. Twilight Sparkle broke first.
“The Dragonborn?” she snickered, covering her mouth with a hoof. “You? You think you’re the…” She trailed off, her words replaced with laughter that left her bent over and clutching her sides.
Sly’s eyes narrowed. She measured the distance between herself and Twilight Sparkle, wondering how many blows she could land before the guards intervened. Less than four, she decided. Not enough to be worth the subsequent beating.
Celestia’s gentle smile never moved, though her words were tinged with amusement. “You’ll have to forgive Twilight,” she said. “There are quite a few ponies these days claiming to be the Dragonborn. Almost as many as there are dragons in the skies.”
Twilight laughed again. “Two plagues for the price of one!”
“But I can Shout!” Sly said, stamping a hoof in annoyance. “How many fake Dragonborns can do that?”
Celestia tilted her head. “That is worth considering. Twilight, what do you think?”
Twilight shrugged. “She may think she is the Dragonborn,” she said. “But do I think she’s the mythical savior of ponykind, the great warrior returned to vanquish the dragons and restore peace to Equestria?” She gave Sly a skeptical glance, then shook her head sadly.
“I think we have to keep looking, princess,” she added.
Celestia nodded slightly, her eyes still fixed on Sly. The rest of the room was silent while she thought.
“You’re probably right,” she eventually said. “But wouldn’t it be terrible if she really were the one? We would be tossing away a wondrous opportunity to end these attacks forever. Perhaps she’s worth taking a chance?”
“A small chance,” Twilight said. She glanced at Sly and hastily added, “No offense.”
Sly waved a hoof dismissively. She was used to jokes about her height.
“But a chance nevertheless,” Celestia said. She stepped closer to Sly, then lowered herself to her knees so she could look the smaller mare directly in the eyes. Even kneeling her presence loomed like a shadow over the room.
Being so close to such a huge pony should have been intimidating, but Celestia’s presence filled Sly with a sense of warmth and comfort she hadn’t felt since she was a foal huddled against her mother’s side. She resisted the urge to bury her face in the princess’s mane.
“There is a weapon that can aid us greatly against the dragons,” Celestia said, leaning close, her lips just inches from Sly’s ears. “It might even turn the tide of the war in our favor. Unfortunately, it has been lost for centuries, and nearly forgotten during the long years when dragons were but a myth. Twilight and I have been working for months to craft a new one, but just days ago we found what might just be a hint of its location.”
“A... friend of mine acquired a book, a history text we’d thought was lost,” Twilight said. She seemed more excited about the book than the weapon. “If the book is to be believed, the  weapon was seized during the fall of the Griffin Empire by an earth pony warlord named Curalmil. He had it fastened to his crown, and we think he was buried with it.”
“He fastened a weapon to his crown?” Sly asked, imagining a sword glued to a pony’s crown and sticking out like a unicorn’s horn. She snickered.
“It’s not a weapon like you’re thinking of,” Celestia said. “It’s a special jewel my sister made, back when we were younger.” For a moment the ever-present smile faded from Celestia’s face, her eyes losing their focus.
“Whoever wears the jewel will find that their wounds heal before their eyes,” she continued. “They will run and never grow tired. Every arrow they fire will find its target. And once, during the lifetime of its bearer, it will grant a wish.”
Sly’s eyes widened. A wish? Possibilities began drifting through her head. She almost missed Twilight picking up the conversation.
“Curalmil has always been a mystery to historians,” Twilight said. “He was a gifted warrior, but not much else. Yet somehow, less than a year after defeating the griffins, he ruled an inland empire nearly the size of Equestria. When he died, his sons all claimed his place, and within a month his empire was torn into a dozen feuding pieces. The jewel would explain how he managed that feat and why it collapsed after his death.”
“We know where Curalmil’s tomb is hidden,” Celestia said. “If you can retrieve this jewel for us, it will be the greatest blow we can strike against the dragons. It would be an accomplishment worthy of the Dragonborn.”
Sly sat back on her haunches, her mind whirling in thought. The outlines of a plan were already forming: agree to retrieve the jewel, get it from the tomb, then take off for the nearest border. With an artifact like that, she would be unstoppable. Dreams of living in her own palace, with hundreds of servants and guards to keep her and her vast fortune safe, tantalized her.
Apparently her glee showed on her face. The princess’s smile widened, and her voice contained a hint of laughter as she spoke.
“Of course, we’ll need some insurance, to make sure you really do return with it,” Celestia said. “Twilight will accompany you to help identify the jewel and defeat any defenses Curalmil’s followers may have set up to guard it. Dragonborn or not, this won’t be easy.”
Sly came down hard, the dreams vanishing like smoke. She’d known Twilight for less than ten minutes and had already considered hurting her. She didn’t see a weeks-long adventure with the annoying mare ending well.
Celestia continued before Sly could object. Her eyes flicked up to the iron ring around Sly’s horn. “And until we know for sure if you can be trusted, I’m afraid that damper is going to have to stay in place. We’ll modify it so you can use your magic, but only when you are near Twilight.”
Sly carefully kept her features still. “And what if I just use the jewel to wish the damper off?”
“Well, then you won’t be able to wish for anything else, will you?” Twilight said. “A waste of a good wish, when we could be using it against the dragons.”
Sly frowned. Twilight was right: as nice as the rest of the jewel’s powers sounded, the wish was the important thing. The damper was a powerful form of coercion, but if there was one thing Sly knew, it was how to escape from tricky situations.
She gave the two her most sincere smile. “It’s a deal,” she said. “I’ll be glad to help retrieve this weapon. What’s it called, anyway?”
Celestia’s smile dimmed slightly. “Luna called it the Wind’s Eye.”



	
Footnote: Level Up.  
New Perk: Persuasion -- Persuasion attempts are 30% easier. You and your honeyed words!
> Part One: The Bait
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part 1: The Bait

“Ohh, that’s so much better,” Sly said. She shook herself from head to feet, feeling her armor settle on her body like a second skin. “You never miss these things until they’re gone, know what I mean?” She was back in the jail, though as a guest rather than a prisoner. The guards had even been polite to her on the way back from the palace.
Twilight Sparkle started the trip walking beside Sly, though she slowly gravitated back to the guards as they passed through the more downtrodden parts of Canterlot. As a brightly colored unicorn wearing expensive robes, she looked decidedly out of place amongst the laborers and less savory elements of society. She actually seemed relieved to be entering the safety of the jail.
“Not really, no,” Twilight said. She gave Sly’s armor a look, then peeked into the chest where the rest of the powder blue unicorn’s belongings waited. “Do you really need all these things? You have two bows.”
“Never hurts to have a spare!” Sly said. She levitated the bows and fastened them onto her saddlebags next to a quiver full of arrows. The damper on her horn was still in place, but true to Celestia’s word she could still use her magic as long as Twilight was near. “After all, you need to be prepared when you’re out in the wilderness.”
“Right. And the rest of this stuff?” Twilight asked. Even after the stolen goods had been removed, the chest still nearly overflowed with supplies seized from Sly after her arrest.
“All necessary equipment,” Sly said. She stuffed a leather purse filled with lockpicking gear into a saddlebag, then started rummaging through a pile of potions, picking out a few for their trip. “Trust me, there’s nothing worse than discovering you need a rope or something, then remembering you left it behind to save space.”
“Rope, sure, but do you need a sword very often?” Twilight sniffed at the scabbard, then flinched as Sly snatched it up with her magic.
“Like I said, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” she answered, tying the scabbard across her back next to the bow. “Speaking of, where’s yours?”
“My what?”
“Your sword! Everypony needs a sword!”
“Everypony most certainly does not need a sword.” Twilight said “sword” slowly, as though it tasted bad in her mouth. “Most unicorns have more refined methods of defending themselves,” she added, tilting her snout up.
“Pfft, magic,” Sly scoffed. “Do you know how many pansy mages get themselves killed every year, thinking some little warding spell is going to save them from a horde of undead? Or worse, a dragon? Those things laugh at spells.”
“Well, then it’s fortunate I have the ‘Dragonborn’ along to protect me,” Twilight said. If sarcasm were a weapon, she would have felled Sly on the spot. “Now, are you done packing?”
Sly frowned. This trip was off to a wonderful start.



		
Sly wanted to leave immediately. Twilight Sparkle insisted on waiting until the next morning. They voted; Sly somehow lost.
At least, Sly pondered outside the Canterlot gates the next morning, the weather was decent for travelling. A brilliant blue winter sky looked down from the heavens, crisp with cold. The roads were free of snow and ice, but she suspected that wouldn’t be the case further from the city. In retrospect, waiting until morning was probably a good idea after all. Not that she would ever say so to Twilight.
“So, where is this tomb, anyway?” she asked. With any luck, it would be somewhere near a town she could disappear into after ditching her overbearing escort.
“It’s in a fairly remote spot,” Twilight said. “A place called the Everfree Forest. It used to be the capital of Curalmil’s empire, but after his death and the subsequent civil war it fell into ruins.”
Sly scowled. “Lovely. Have you ever been in the Everfree? It’s not exactly the safest place to be wandering.”
“No, but I’ve read about it!” Twilight’s horn glowed, and a thick book floated out of her saddlebags, hovering in front of them as they walked. “It was one of the last wild places left in Equestria. Before the dragons returned, I mean.” She trailed off, eyes lowering to the ground for a moment.
Sly mumbled something in agreement, thinking back to her travels before arriving in Canterlot. There were plenty of wild places now. Dozens of ghost towns, charred beyond recognition or simply abandoned, flashed in her mind. Some of the more remote villages had already been swallowed by the wilderness. Each year the circle of civilization grew smaller as ponies fled their homes for the larger cities.
They were silent for a while as they followed the road south from the city. Sly kept her eyes on the countryside around them, more out of habit than any real concern this close to Canterlot. Twilight read from her book, occasionally stumbling on a loose stone or stick. Sly supposed she could have warned her about the obstacles, but that would have taken much of the fun out of the trip.
“How many books did you bring?” Sly asked, sneaking a look into Twilight’s saddlebags. They appeared to be entirely stuffed with literature.
“Oh, lots!” Twilight exclaimed. She seemed genuinely happy to be asked. As she spoke dozens of scrolls, tomes, pamphlets and notebooks floated out of her saddlebags and into the air around her like a cloud. “Histories of the local area, bestiaries, spell books, field guides to flora and fauna in the Everfree. Everything we need!”
“Uh huh. Did you bring anything besides books?”
Twilight stared at her blankly.
Sly sighed. “Nevermind. What about fighting? You’re, like, a battlemage or something, right?”
Twilight giggled. “Oh no, nothing like that. I’m a librarian! But I do know lots of spells.”
Terrific. Sly wondered if it was too late to go back to Canterlot and just wait out her sentence in jail. On the other hoof, there was still the matter of the jewel and its wish. Surely that was worth putting up with a helpless companion for a few weeks.
“Spells are good,” she finally said, adopting an agreeable expression. “If we ever get in trouble, just try to stay low while I take care of things.”
“Take care of things?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.
“Right, and I should tell you now that I prefer to handle things quietly. Sneakily.”
“Ah, yes. I knew from the moment we met what a subtle pony you were.”
Sly preened. Perhaps Twilight was more perceptive than she gave her credit for. That was, however, troubling for entirely different reasons. It wouldn’t do for Twilight to guess Sly’s plans before she could escape with the jewel. She mused on that thought for a few moments, until Twilight spoke.
“Minus the shouting, general mayhem and arrests, that is,” she said.
“That was an unusual circumstance,” Sly said. “Normally I’m quiet as a mouse. Invisible as the wind.” She stopped and crouched low to the ground, her belly brushing against the road. “Sly the Unseen. The shadow that stalks in the night! All across Equestria, they speak in hushed tones about the mysterious mare who—”
Twilight laughed, interrupting her. Sly scowled. This was at least the third time she’d done that.
“Sly the Unseen?” She chuckled. “The shadow that stalks in the night? How long did you work on that line? Wait, wait.” She stopped suddenly, and looked around, her eyes wide with comic wonder. “Oh my goodness, where did she go! She was right here, and then she vanished!”
Sly glared at her. Twilight feigned ignorance, waving her hooves in the air as though feeling around in the dark.
“Sly! Sly! Where are you?”
“Okay, that’s enough—”
“I can hear your voice, but I can’t see you! Are you... are you a ghost?!”
Sly rose back to her hooves, a small frown on her face. She wondered what the penalty was for assaulting the princess’s student.
“Oh, there you are!” Twilight said with a giggle. “I was so... so worried for a moment!”
“It’s hard to hide in the middle of a road,” Sly mumbled. She picked up the pace, forcing Twilight to trot to catch up.



		
They made camp in the ruins of a small town on the outskirts of the forest. It had been a farming community once; an overgrown apple orchard still bore shrivelled fruit next to the skeletal remains of a barn, which had long since collapsed under the weight of years and neglect. Most of the other houses were nothing but bare timbers and fallen roofs.
A huge hollow tree in the center of the town provided them with a decent shelter against the cold night. Aside from an owl that stared down at them solemnly from its perch high above, the town seemed deserted. Sly had never been attacked by an owl, or any other kind of bird, so she gave it a pass.
The tree was unusual, to say the least. It was huge, nearly 30 feet wide at its base, and some enterprising pony had hollowed it out and turned it into a house, complete with a door, windows, multiple floors and a balcony. It even had a fireplace, Sly noted with some amusement.
Twilight Sparkle settled down by their fire with her books, while Sly set rattle traps around the tree. Nothing harmful, just enough to provide some warning if anything unfriendly tried to approach while they slept. Just because the town looked deserted didn’t mean it was deserted. Once she was satisfied she joined Twilight inside.
“Well, this is... interesting,” Twilight said. She had put her books away and was prodding the fire with a stick, sending showers of sparks floating upwards into the heights of the tree-home. “I’ve never been camping before.”
Camping? Sly glanced around the tree house, its warm hearth and comfortable floor. “Yes, I... got that impression. You don’t cook much either, do you?”
“No, it’s never something I had time for back in the palace.” She paused and ducked her head. “I’m sorry about the food. I didn’t realize you could burn soup.”
Sly hadn’t either, before Twilight’s adventure preparing their meal. Thankfully, part of being prepared meant bringing travel bread, a dull but filling and palatable substitute for a real meal. She put on her best smile.
“It’s fine, I burn soup all the time,” she said. It wasn’t strictly true, or even true at all, but it felt like the right thing to say. “What matters is that we’re fed and have a safe place to spend the night. I’ll take the first watch, if you want.”
Twilight blinked. “Watch? You mean... oh, right. Of course. That’s fine.” She glanced around the tree again, as if seeing it in a new light. She scooted a bit closer to the fire, and for a while they were silent.
“Hey, Sly?” Twilight said. She had turned away from the fire and was staring out the door into the bleak night beyond. “What do you think happened to this town?”
Sly shrugged. “Same as every other town around here. Dragon shows up one day, carries off a few ponies. Maybe a foal or two.” She paused, staring into the fire. “The town rallies at first, promising to fight the dragons and make them pay. They swear they’ll never give up their homes. Maybe they form a militia and put up some defenses.
“When the dragon comes back they try to fight, but it doesn’t go well. They’re just farmers. It kills even more ponies this time. The town gets together again and pledges to keep fighting, but a few families decide it’s time to move in with relatives in a bigger town, or even a city like Canterlot. Months and years pass, always under the shadow of the next dragon attack. Eventually, there’s only a few families left, the ones too stubborn or prideful to leave.” She spat the word “prideful” as if it were an insult.
“And then one day the dragon came back, but it didn’t just grab a pony or two. It killed every mare, stallion and foal who was left, except the one who played dead in the ashes of her home.” She finished quietly, her gaze still fixed on the fire. When she looked up Twilight was staring at her over the wide hearth, her face half in shadows.
Sly cleared her throat. An uncomfortable silence, heavy and tense, stretched between them.
“So yeah, just like every other town,” Sly said.
Twilight nodded slowly. “Well, I think I’ll try to get some sleep, then. Wake me when it’s my... turn? Watch? Wake me when it’s my watch.” She lay down on her bedroll and pulled a blanket up over her shoulders, then turned her face away from the fire.
Sly watched her until the rise and fall of her chest slowed to a steady pace. Then she watched some more, until the first quiet snore sounded over the crackle of the fire. Satisfied, she silently rose to her hooves and stretched.
Twilight seemed like a good pony. A little sarcastic, maybe, but that wasn’t a crime. Not a real crime like murder. She gave the sleeping form a quick glance. No, definitely not a murderer.
She slipped out the door without a sound, crouching on the far side of the threshold until her eyes adapted to the darkness. The town was as still and empty as when they had first arrived in the evening’s fading light. A cold wind blew through the deserted streets, carrying the scent of snow with it.
She said she knew lots of spells. Some of those must be good for fighting. She slipped through the town, pausing occasionally to check her traps to make sure they were undisturbed. They were. I mean, what else is magic for?
She spent some time daydreaming about magic and its uses while sneaking through the town. Sadly, nothing of any value was left in the collapsed houses. Although the town was deserted, looters had apparently been through sometime in the past, stealing anything of value and trashing the rest. Everything that wasn’t nailed down had already been hauled off.
If nothing else, she can wait outside the tomb while I get the jewel. She discovered a small locked chest hidden beneath the floorboards of a fanciful multi-story home that apparently housed a boutique, before time, neglect and dragons reduced it to colorful rubble. The box was beautiful; even under a layer of grim its polished teak cover glowed. The kind of box that should have been on display somewhere everypony could admire it, not hidden under the floor. Sometimes Sly didn’t understand other ponies at all.
The lock itself was rather intricate, wonderful to play with, and she almost felt bad when it finally clicked open. She put her lockpick away and lifted the lid, filled with the rush of anticipation that always accompanied such discoveries. Inside the chest rested a few gold coins, a lock of hair, and what looked like a porcelain comb of some sort, missing most of its teeth. She pulled the coins out and put the box back beneath the floor for the next treasure hunter to find.
Despite wandering through most of the town, the damper on her horn never restricted her magic. It apparently had some significant range. She crossed her eyes, attempting to look at the iron band around her horn. It was harmless, unless she tried to remove it, which she had learned would cause it to send a jolt of pain down her horn and into her skull. Twilight would probably know how it worked. On the other hoof, asking her too many questions might cause trouble. Twilight was naive, not stupid.
Twilight was still asleep when Sly returned to the tree. She hadn’t budged from her spot by the fire. Probably worn out. She certainly wasn’t used to walking all day. Poor thing. Well, it was her own fault for hauling all those books with her.
Sly gave the pile of books next to Twilight a quick glance, just enough to confirm that they weren’t of any value. “The Fieldpony’s Guide to Monstrous Carnivores” was on top, and had several dog-ears and bookmarks interspersed throughout its length. She made a mental note to ask Twilight if it had a chapter on dragons.
There were even more books in Twilight’s saddlebags, possibly more than Sly had read in her entire life. She nosed them aside quietly, avoiding the use of her horn so as not to bother Twilight with its glow. There was a small pouch at the bottom of the saddlebag, filled with coins and various other sundries. She dropped them in her own saddlebag without a second thought. Twilight had enough to carry with all those books.
The other saddlebag held more books, along with a surprise: a partially concealed panel, sewn like a pocket into the canvas siding. A tiny wire, almost invisible unless you knew where to look for it, would break if the panel was opened improperly. Sly shook her head sadly as she disconnected the wire and pulled open the hidden pouch. It was unfortunate, having a travelling partner who didn’t trust you.
What secrets are you hiding, Twilight Sparkle?
Just letters, it turned out. Love letters, though they bore no names and Sly had difficulty reading the flowing cursive writing. Nothing steamy, in any case. She sighed silently and placed them back in the hidden pocket, then carefully sealed it and reset the wire.
Love letters were okay, Sly decided. She wouldn’t want anyone reading her love letters. Not that she had ever written any, of course, but it held a certain romantic appeal. She gave the sleeping mare a smile and decided to let her sleep an extra hour before waking her for her shift.



		
The first light of dawn was a distant promise beneath the horizon when Sly woke. The fire had died down to glowing embers, still warm enough to chase away the early morning chill. Twilight Sparkle hadn’t moved, though she was awake and reading from one of her books by the light of her horn. At some point in the night, the owl had flown down from the rafters and perched on one of Twilight’s saddlebags. It watched Sly with its wide, perfectly round eyes.
“Good morning!” Twilight said. “This is Owloysius. He decided to come down last night and has been keeping me company ever since. Isn’t he cute?”
Sly stared at the owl. The owl stared back.
“Yeah, that’s... cute,” she said. And not creepy in the slightest. She suppressed a shiver.
They packed quickly, not wanting to waste any of the short winter day. The town seemed somehow less foreboding in the morning light, less like a graveyard than a simple ruin. Wisps of snow drifted down the roads, pushed along by a chill wind that bit through their coats. There was no color in the dawn to their east -- a thick layer of clouds shrouded the sky, their lowest reaches brushing the tips of the trees.
The Everfree Forest had grown over the years. Slender trees dozens of feet high encroached nearly to the edge of the town. Some had even taken root in the rubble, though how such large trees could have grown in such a short time frame was baffling to Sly. The town couldn’t have been abandoned for more than a few years, judging by the state of its buildings.
“Do you think there’s a path?” Twilight asked. They stopped at the edge of the town, where the roadway vanished beneath a layer of dead leaves. She glanced up at the bare branches clawing at the sky above them.
“I don’t think it’s that kind of forest,” Sly said. “But we should be able to get through the underbrush without much trouble. Do you know the route to the tomb?”
“Sort of. It should be near the center of the forest,” A sheet of parchment, covered with lines and symbols, floated out of her saddlebags. Twilight stared at it for a few minutes, turning it this way and that and occasionally looked up at the forest before them. Eventually she blushed, and turned to Sly.
“It’s, ah, it’s a bit different than I expected,” Twilight said.
Sly chuckled and leaned closer for a better view. Twilight stiffened as their shoulders bumped, but she held the map steady nevertheless.
It was a decent enough map. Some past explorer with a eye for cartography had drawn almost every major topographic feature in the forest. Some, like the paths, were undoubtedly long gone, but the mountains and rivers wouldn’t have shifted much over time.
A major river appeared to cut through to the center of the forest. Somepony had drawn a bright red circle on the map around a question mark about halfway up the river. The question mark was frankly troubling, but Sly ignored it for the moment. If they traveled due east from the town, they would hit the river, and then it would be a simple matter of following it to the ruins. Not the most direct route, but the simplest and therefore the best.
“I think we’ll be fine,” Sly said. “The river’s our route in. We’ll avoid the mountains.”
“Why’s that?” Twilight asked. She rolled the parchment up and slid it back into her saddlebags. “Not that I want to go climbing.”
Sly took a few steps into the forest. The leaves beneath her hooves were sodden, but not yet frozen. Not bad. They wouldn’t crunch or crackle as she moved. She ducked under and through the naked branches, sliding the twigs aside with hooves and magic with unnatural ease. Behind her, Twilight crashed through the woods with the grace and elegance of a troll.
She waited for Twilight to catch up. “The higher you go, the harsher things get. The monsters that live there are... hardier.”
Twilight nodded. “Right, the monsters... do you think we’ll see any?” Her voice was a mixture of hope and fear.
“Depends how lucky we get.” She slipped ahead while Twilight puzzled over her response. The sky to the east slowly grew brighter.



		
Their luck ran out a few hours into the forest.
Sly was a hundred feet ahead of Twilight Sparkle, just close enough to keep the other mare in sight behind her through the light snowfall. She paused occasionally, whenever Twilight got her robes stuck in the branches or had to figure some way to go around a boggy patch without getting her hooves dirty, but for the most part she ranged freely. The forest in winter was quiet and dead; the only color was the occasional green flash of holly. It was enough to make her careless.
She almost walked right past the cockatrice. Its white head was the only part of its body above the snow-covered leaves, barely a dozen feet away. A forked tongue flicked in and out of its beak, tasting the air for prey.
She crouched as low to the ground as possible, turning her face away from the monster. It hadn’t seen her yet, or she would already be a lonely statue counting away the centuries. Thank Celestia for small favors. She silently levitated the bow off her back, holding it near the ground at her side.
There was a rustle from the cockatrice’s direction. She froze, waiting for the hiss that would announce it had found her, but there was only the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. Risk a glance? No choice, she decided. She slowly turned her head back toward the monster.
It was gone.
A faint well of panic began building in her stomach. There were few things more frightening than a missing cockatrice. She fitted an arrow on the bowstring and waited for the monster to make a sound. Minutes passed; a faint dusting of snow began to collect in the creases of her armor.
“Sly! Sly! Can you hear me?” Twilight’s voice, loud and urgent, carried easily in the cold air. A patch of leaves nearby exploded in a rustle of motion.
Crap! Sly jumped to her hooves, sighting down the arrow’s shaft in Twilight’s direction. She was less than fifty yards away, looking for a way around a particularly dense section of underbrush. The cockatrice was already halfway toward her, its bat-like wings flapping furiously as it half-ran, half flew over the leaves. Twilight started to turn toward the commotion, her eyes widening in surprise.
Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook. Sly released her magical grip on the bowstring, sending the arrow on its way. It flew through the air in a blur, guided as much by hope as by aim.
The steel arrowhead punched through the back of the cockatrice’s neck, just below where the feathers became scales. The monster tumbled through the air, pushed forward by the force of the arrow’s impact. It landed a few feet in front of Twilight and skidded through the leaves to her hooves. The leathery wings clawed at the air weakly, then folded to the ground.
The two ponies stared at the fallen beast, as still as the statues they might have become. Sly recovered first. She picked her way slowly across the forest floor, another arrow already set in her bow.
Twilight was shaking when Sly finally reached her. She still hadn’t looked away from the cockatrice. A tiny splatter of blood, red and shockingly bright, slowly melted the snow where it had splashed. More ran down the arrow’s shaft and dripped from the metal tip onto the leaves.
“Twilight?” Sly asked. She managed to keep all but a slight tremor out of her voice.
Twilight didn’t answer. Her eyes were still fixed on the cockatrice.
“It’s dead, Twilight. It can’t hurt you.” Sly edged around the dead beast, staying as far from it as possible. She grabbed the collar of Twilight’s robe in her mouth, and gently tugged the unicorn away from the monster.
“That’s... that’s a cockatrice,” Twilight said weakly. She was noticeably paler beneath her coat.
Sly spat out the robe. “Yeah. We need to keep moving,” she said. “It will attract others.”
“It was so fast. How did you—”
“Just got lucky,” Sly interrupted. She scanned the woods around them for any hint of motion. It seemed quiet. “Come on.”
Twilight took a stumbling step away from the cockatrice. She gave it a final, anguished look, then turned and trotted quickly over to Sly. Her loud, rapid breathing filled the silence of the forest.
They continued east, sticking closer together.



		
The next few hours passed without incident. Trees crowded around them, but the forest was easy to pass through without the thick underbrush of summer. Certainly easier than slipping through a crowded market without being noticed. Dead, dry brambles brushed against Sly’s armor with a quiet rustle as she slipped around the trees.
The branches made no noise when they caught in Twilight’s robes, though she made up for the silence by cursing under her breath. Some of the more colorful curses were entertaining. Celestia would have been shocked at her student.
The faint sound of running water gradually grew in the distance, likely from the river they were looking for. Every other stream they had crossed was already frozen over for the winter, though the ice on one had been shallow enough that Sly’s hoof broke through, soaking her leg up to the knee. The cold had hurt, but not as much as Twilight’s laughter.
Behind her, Twilight cursed again at some branch or other. Sly smiled and picked up her pace.
The river was even larger than Sly had expected. Easily a hundred feet across, it had carved a deep gorge through the forest, leaving a pair of high bluffs on either side. Trees grew precariously close to the edges, as though they were being pushed over by the trees behind them. She crept up to the lip, almost on her belly, and chanced a look down. It was a long drop. She slowly edged away.
“Do you think this is it?” Twilight asked. She trotted nonchalantly to the edge and stared at the river below. “There can’t be many rivers this large in the forest.”
“Yeah, this is it. And don’t stand there like that. The cliff could collapse, or something.” It sounded weak, even to her ears.
Twilight glanced at Sly’s crouching form, down at the river, then back at Sly. A small smile grew on her face.
“Are you afraid of heights?” she asked.
“No! It’s just, you know, high. High and... high,” Sly said lamely.
“Right, high.” Twilight grinned. “Remind me to show you my hot air balloon someday.”
That sounded like trouble. She suppressed visions of tumbling to her death from a balloon’s basket while Twilight read a book, unnoticing. “I’ll pass.”
Twilight giggled, then turned back to the dropoff. Her horn glowed, and the map lifted out of her saddlebags. “The tomb should be on the other side of the river, closer to its source. Hopefully it will be easier to cross upstream.”
Sly certainly had no intention of trying to cross here. “I was just about to suggest that,” she said.
The slow rise in elevation as they walked upstream was gentle and almost unnoticeable. Sly kept away from the edge even as the bluffs grew smaller. Short falls were just as dangerous as long falls, after all. The mountains, previously a shadow on the horizon, loomed closer to either side. Ahead of them, hills rose above the forest, some high enough to disappear into the low-hanging clouds.
Sly gave the snow-covered foothills a worried glance. Hardier monsters, she had told Twilight. Ice trolls, snow bears, manticores, all waiting for them on the frozen, rocky slopes. Just once, she wanted a quest to retrieve a magical treasure from a resort town on a tropical island. Maybe some sort of mystical jewel that only worked when you lay in the sun for hours at a time. Alcohol might be involved. And stallions.
A frigid blast of wind kicked snow into her face, snapping her out of her daydream and back to the present. No alcohol or stallions, just Twilight and the cold forest. She sighed. Life wasn’t fair.
Sly had expected a stream of complaints from Twilight once they reached the true wilderness, but the other mare was tougher than she thought. Sly was impressed; even the shock of the cockatrice and a brush with death hadn’t deterred her. She was careful not to say so out loud.
Eventually, Twilight broke the lull. “Have you been here before?” she asked. “The Everfree, I mean.”
Sly shook her head. “No, but I’ve been places like it. The Fillydelphia ruins are pretty bad, especially near the center. Ran into some trouble there. And the Pastel Desert? It’s worse than you’ve heard.” She hopped over a fallen tree, landing on all fours without a sound.
Twilight gave her a skeptical glance as she climbed over the trunk. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” she said. “Some of the stories are unbelievable.”
Sly took her time answering. The middle of the Everfree Forest was not the place to be telling horror stories. Especially not with dusk on the horizon. Best to stick with the blander tales.
“They’re true,” she finally said. “Entire towns full of ponies vanish overnight, leaving only empty buildings. Plagues of sickness that drive their victims insane. Trust me, there’s a reason nopony lives there anymore.”
Twilight gave her a look like she wanted to respond, but held her tongue. Instead, she looked up at the sky. “It’s starting to get dark,” she said. “Do you think we should—”
A deafening roar, louder than anything they had ever heard, could ever imagine hearing, split the silence of the forest. The ground beneath them quaked, knocking them both to their knees. Trees shook and toppled around them, sending a blast of powdery snow and leaves into the air.
The sky above them dimmed as a massive shadow passed over the clouds.
Oh Celestia no. She pulled the bow off her back. It was a pathetically incapable weapon, a hopeless gesture. The arrows in her quiver rattled as her body shook. Ice trolls and manticores no longer seemed like such a bad deal.
Sly rose unsteadily to her hooves. A loud ringing noise filled her ears, and the forest seemed to spin as she stood. Twilight looked up at her in shock.
“What... what was...” Twilight stared up at the sky, her pupils tiny dots in her panic-filled eyes. The shadow overhead turned in a large, slow arc, and began moving back toward them.
Not good. Not good at all. Sly broke into a gallop toward the river, sparing only a brief moment to yell back at Twilight, “Run!”
Branches grasped at her armor like claws. She ignored them, crashing heedlessly through the underbrush. The river was only a few dozen yards ahead, if she could just make it to the water she might be able to hide there until dark with Twilight. Hypothermia would be a concern, but that was something she could spend hours worrying about later.
Worry about with Twilight. There was no sound of pursuit behind her. A chill, like ice water running down her back, seized her as she turned. Twilight was still kneeling, her gaze still locked on the shadow gliding toward her above the clouds.
“Twilight! TWILIGHT!” she screamed.
The dragon broke through the low clouds like some ancient god descending upon the wicked. Its bronze wings stretched hundreds of feet across the sky, blotting out the clouds and sun both. A head larger than a wagon trailed smoke from between its jaws, which yawned wide to reveal a hellish light within. The world shook again as it roared, and a river of fire erupted from its mouth, bathing the forest below. Twilight’s horn barely started to glow before a wash of flames engulfed her. She vanished before Sly’s eyes.
The ringing in her ears faded, replaced by a faint buzz. Her vision began to go gray around the edges. So fast. The dragon flapped its massive wings and began to wheel around for another pass.
Another roar broke through her paralysis, and she stumbled forward. Movemovemovemove! She tumbled forward, dodging past trees and deadfalls. All that mattered was to keep moving. Behind her, she felt a rush of heat as the dragon passed near. The snow around her evaporated instantly. The trees steamed.
“Twilight!” she cried. The flames from the dragon’s first pass had already begun to die down, their fuel consumed in seconds by the magical fires. She stumbled toward the stretch of smoldering ash, looking for any sign of the unicorn. “Twilight!”
“Sly!” a voice called through the smoke. Her heart leapt. “Over here!”
Sly wheeled toward the sound, barreling through the haze. She ignored the still-burning ashes beneath her hooves. “Twilight! Where are—” She stumbled to a halt.
Twilight’s horn still glowed a faint purple, matched by a shimmering sphere that completely surrounded her. A perfect circle of unmelted snow sat, impossibly, in the middle of the ruin. She rose to her hooves as Sly stared at her.
“Are you okay?” Twilight asked. Her voice was remarkably calm.
“Am I okay?” She stared at the unicorn and her magic shield, until the dragon roared again, shaking them both. The sphere popped as Sly reached through it to grab Twilight by her robes and started dragging her toward the river.
“That’s a dragon!” Twilight yelled. She managed to keep up with Sly as they crashed through the undergrowth.
Librarians! The urge to say something bitingly sarcastic rose above her panic briefly. Maybe another time; the dragon was already coming around for another pass. “Get to the river!” she shouted. “Get to the water and hide!”
“But what about—”
“Just do it!” She gave Twilight a shove with her shoulder, then pivoted in place like a cat, running along the edge of the river. The bow floated in front of her as she searched for the dragon. It wasn’t hard to find. It was the sky.
She jumped onto a fallen log, then up onto a huge granite boulder that rose above the trees. Hooves planted, she raised the bow, aimed along the arrow, and let fly.
The arrow shot through the air toward the dragon in a perfect arc, hitting with enough force to kill a pony instantly. The dragon barely noticed as the missile shattered against its scales.
But it did notice, and turned its head toward her. For the first time it met her gaze, its burning eyes boring straight into her soul. She suddenly felt very, very small.
I see you. She heard its booming voice echo in her mind. She trembled beneath the force of its terrible will; the bow shook as she raised it again, and her second arrow veered wildly off course, sailing into the distance. The dragon’s laughter resounded in her brain.
So little. Sly dove off the rock, landing in a jumble of hooves and armor a bare moment before the boulder erupted in flames as the dragon passed overhead. The stone melted.
Her bow was lodged under a smoldering tree. She wrenched it free and rolled to her hooves, then took off toward the river again. Now that she had the dragon’s attention, she needed to lose it. A detached part of her mind calmly noted that she really needed to plan more than one step ahead in situations like this.
The river was ten feet below the edge of the bluff. Her fear of heights only had a chance to register a quiet peep of protest before she flung herself off and into the freezing water. The river was just deep enough to cushion her fall against the large boulders in its bed. She splashed her way to shallower water, already shivering with cold.
So weak. Sly spun around, ignoring a sharp pain in her left foreleg. Plenty of time to worry about that later. Finding Twilight and then a place to hide was the number one priority, and not necessarily in that order.
Too late. The dragon blasted through the plume of smoke that shrouded the sky. Nearly half the forest around the river was in flames. Its mouth opened again, revealing the furnace that burned within its breast.
It was moments from exhaling on her when a large river stone, nearly a boulder, flew through the air and slammed into the dragon’s side with a crunch that sounded for miles. The beast bellowed in pain and flipped in the air, tilting its wings to change course and face the new threat. Sly lowered the bow, and turned to see where the boulder had come from.
Twilight stood in the middle of the river. A constellation of stones, glowing with a faint purple light, swung in a slow orbit around her. As Sly watched, a stone the size of a melon glowed brighter and shot through the air with a loud crack toward the dragon.
Her breath caught in her throat. She can hurt it! She can hurt it!
Just as quickly, her hopes were dashed. The dragon reached out with a scaled arm, intercepting the stone with a casual backhand. The rock shattered against its hardened scales; fragments rained down on the river in a stinging hail that drew tiny lines of blood on Sly’s coat. Apparently deciding Twilight was the greater threat, the dragon inhaled deeply, and sent another blast of fire down the river. Twilight vanished as the river around her exploded into a cloud of steam.
Twilight had survived that once; hopefully she would survive it twice. Sly raised the bow and sent a volley of arrows flying toward the dragon. They bounced or broke against its hide. The dragon’s laughter shook the river.
Is that all? The earth quaked as it landed on the river’s edge. The bank collapsed beneath its weight, sending a slough of dirt and stone into the water. The monster towered over Sly, and looked down with what might have passed for amusement.
Mortals. A mistake. A joke played upon the world. Sly sent another hopeless arrow flying toward the beast’s eye. It turned its head to the side, and the arrow burst into steel and wood shards against its scales. You must learn. Nothing lives. Everything burns. It opened its jaws again, and a wave of heat poured forth. The river around her began to steam.
The dragon inhaled. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her hooves refused to budge. She stared at the doom above her, approaching as swiftly as one of her arrows.
This is it. This is how it ends. She levitated her last arrow from its quiver. The bow shook as her magic gripped it, pulling it with more force than she had ever used before. The thick wood creaked and would have shattered if her magic wasn’t holding it together. She could feel its grain, its tortured stress as it bent far beyond its design. The arrowhead slipped off its shelf and began to topple. She closed her eyes, said a quiet prayer, and released the string.
The bow snapped in half as she fired. Splinters of wood flew dozens of yards as the two halves, still connected by the bowstring, tumbled through the air.
The arrow itself cracked along its length, but nevertheless flew straight. The dragon never saw it coming. It passed between the dragon’s jaws, through its throat and spine, and erupted out the back of its neck in a spray of blood and scales that fountained high into the air. The dragon’s head snapped back, flames dripping from its mouth even as the light in its eyes went out. For a long moment the dragon was frozen; a giant, burning statue misplaced in the wilderness. Then it fell.
Sly dove to the side, barely avoiding being crushed by its head. The river exploded in steam as its jaws, filled with fires hot enough to melt rock, touched the water just inches away. The river rushed away, and a blast of steam slammed into her like a solid wall.
The last thing she felt before the dark waters closed over her head again was a curious sensation of warmth and completion, as though a tiny bit of her soul was coming home at last.



		
Footnote: Level Up.  
New Perk: Overdraw -- You do 20% more damage with bows.
Dragon Soul absorbed! You may use this to unlock a Dragon Shout.
> Part Two: The Switch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part 2: The Switch

The meadow was filled with wildflowers and sunlight.
Sly tiptoed through the tall grasses. Her prey, a monarch butterfly, perched carelessly atop a daisy a dozen yards ahead. It fluttered in the wind as it sipped nectar from the yellow blossom. The brilliant orange and black patterns on its wings stood out like a flag against the brilliant blue sky.
She crouched low and snuck forward, trying not to disturb the grass as she moved. It was a lonely game, catch-the-butterfly, but there were few foals her age left to play real games with. Instead she played catch with the bugs, tag with the wind, and hide-and-seek with the sun. If her parents regretted the lack of playmates, they hid their feelings well.
The butterfly was just a few paces ahead, she judged. She gathered her legs beneath her, took a deep breath, and pounced through the grass like a cat.
The butterfly was gone. She looked up, and saw a flash of orange and black fluttering through the sky.
“Sly!”
She let out a loud groan and considered hiding again. Although she could pretend she hadn’t heard the call, hiding from her parents never ended well. They just got upset with her, and sent her to her room. So she trotted through the grass back to her mother. 
The older mare gave her a well-worn scowl. “Sly, you know you’re not supposed to go off by yourself. It’s dangerous.” She looked up at the sky, her eyes tight with worry.
“But mom--”
“No buts! If you want to play outside, at least stay in the town.”
“But that’s boring!” Sly protested. “There’s nothing to do!”
“I said no buts. Now come on, your father’s worried sick about you.”
She would have argued more, but her mother had already turned back toward the town, in the clear expectation that Sly would be at her hooves. She grumbled to herself and followed. Behind her, the butterfly fluttered back to its flower, unnoticed.



		
Sly hurt.
She focused on the pain, not because she wanted to, but because her thoughts were too muddled and disordered to do anything else. Stray images drifted through her mind, occasionally breaching the ocean of pain to occupy her attention for a brief moment, before the waves crashed over her again. A dragon. A flame. A river. A butterfly. The last image seemed somehow out of place, and she held onto it as long as she could, until it too was lost in the chaos.
Eventually the stabbing pain in her head receded, giving way to the chorus of pain that sounded from the rest of her body. Her horn hurt. Her legs hurt. Her lungs hurt. Everything hurt. Even her tail hurt.
She tried opening her eyes with mixed results. Her left eye was too swollen to budge, but she managed to open the right a crack, revealing the darkness around her. A shadowed stone ceiling flickered above her in the dim light of a campfire. The bare stone floor was swept clean of dirt and debris, most of which had ended up in a pile near the wall. She could hear the sound of somepony working with tools, just a few feet away.
She took a chance. “Twilight?” she managed to croak. Her throat felt like somepony had shoved a log down it.
“Sly!” There was a crash as something dropped to the stone floor. “Hang on, don’t move.” 
She felt hooves under her jaw, gently cradling her head. A purple blur rose in front of her, and the cold, hard rim of a bottle forced itself between her lips. She tried to spit it out.
“It’s a potion, Sly. It will make you feel better, I promise.” The voice had a worried, shaking edge to it.
She relented, letting the cool liquid dribble into her mouth. It tasted like strawberries and fresh grass. A radiant warmth flowed down her throat and settled in her heart, then spread to her extremities. The web of pains that ensnared her faded into a collection of dull aches. Even the sharp pain in her head subsided to something more tolerable.
She licked her lips, tasting blood. “Twilight?” she asked again. “Where--” a cough wracked her chest, delaying any attempt conversation.
“We’re safe,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Just try to sleep. You were hurt badly.”
Hurt? Sly tried to remember. Her head protested her attempts to think, and after a few fruitless minutes she took Twilight’s advice.
When she woke later only a hint of the pain remained, mostly in her head. Both of her eyes were able to open fully, and she looked around the cavern curiously. The fire had died down to embers, but was still bright enough to fully light her surroundings. The stone ceiling was lower than she expected — if she were standing her horn would brush against some of the stalactites. Hanging moss covered the walls, behind which she could see water-slick stone glimmering in the firelight. The floor was clearly pony made; irregular flagstones had been crudely fitted together to form a level surface. It didn’t look like anypony had lived there for a long time.
Twilight was asleep, lying so close to her that their coats brushed together with each breath. Sooty streaks covered her body, and her forelegs were splotchy in places. Sly stared at her for a while.
Eventually Twilight stirred. She twitched in her sleep, then jerked abruptly, her head and neck rising from the floor as she gasped. Wide eyes stared around the dark cavern for a panic-filled moment before settling on Sly. She let out a ragged breath, and put on a small, strained smile.
“You look better,” she said. “Much better. How do you feel?”
“Um, better?” Sly guessed. “What happened? Where’s the dragon?”
“Still in the river, for all I know,” Twilight said. “It was dead when I found you. I assume you killed it somehow.”
I killed it? She stared at Twilight, stunned into silence. She remembered releasing the arrow, and the dragon’s obliterating fall. Everything after was darkness, until the cavern.
“It was close,” Twilight continued, not noticing the uncomprehending stare on Sly’s face. “The water was nearly boiling around you. You weren’t moving. I thought...” she trailed off, and cleared her throat weakly.
Sly remembered Twilight vanishing in the dragon’s flames. She remembered the shock, the disbelief, the fear. Her body began to shake, and in a burst of uncharacteristic willpower forced her body to stillness, knowing if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop. Deep breaths, Sly. Deep breaths.
“It’s okay,” she said, giving Twilight a smile. “All better now, right? I take it you found my potions.”
Twilight sniffed and nodded. “I figured most of them were healing potions.” She paused and looked down at her crossed forelegs. “You were right about being prepared, I guess.”
Sly grinned. “I think you’ll find that I’m right about most things, Twilight. I’ve been doing this for a while, you know.” She reached over and ruffled the other mare’s mane.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her horn glowed. A small purse floated out of her saddlebags to hover between them.
“I also found this in your saddlebags,” she said. “I was starting to think I’d left it back in Canterlot. Any ideas how it got there?”
“You dropped it,” Sly said quickly. “I picked it up. I was going to give it back but--”
“You shouldn’t take things from other ponies,” Twilight cut her off. “Especially not friends.” She sniffed and floated the purse back into her own saddlebags, then closed and cinched them extra tight.
Friends? Sly felt herself flushing, and hoped the firelight was too dim for it to show. She mumbled something apologetic-sounding and lowered her muzzle to the floor. For a while they were silent. Are we friends? When did that happen?
The uncomfortable silence stretched from seconds into minutes. Sly pushed a pebble around with her hoof, taking care not to look in Twilight’s direction. Next to her, so close and yet so far, Twilight passed the time staring into the dying fire’s embers.
“So, that magic thing you did was pretty neat,” Sly finally said, chancing a glance at Twilight. “With the boulders,” she added helpfully.
Twilight’s eyes flicked over to her, then back at the fire. “Just levitation,” she said quietly. “Nothing any unicorn can’t do. I didn’t even hurt it.”
“You distracted it.” She leaned forward, trying to catch Twilight’s eye again. “I’d have been toast if you weren’t there. And that shield thing you did was amazing.”
It was Twilight’s turn to blush. Her face darkened almost imperceptibly beneath her purple coat, and she turned away in embarrassment. “It’s just something I picked up,” she mumbled.
They were quiet again, though the silence was less strained, less fraught with tension. Sly let her attention drift back to fire, losing herself in thought.
“This is more dangerous than I thought it would be.” Twilight broke the silence this time. She stirred the ashes with a stick, setting sparks floating through the air. “We haven’t even entered Curalmil’s tomb yet and we both almost died. Do you think we should go back?”
Sly shook her head. “We’ll be fine, as long as there aren’t any dragons in the tomb.” She reached out and knocked a hoof against one of the logs lining the fire. “Prepared, remember? On that note, how many potions do we have left?”
Twilight gave her an odd look. “Er, none,” she said. “I used all of them on you.”
Sly gawked. There had been at least a half a dozen of the potions in her saddlebags. “You used all of them? Do you know how expensive those were?”
Twilight frowned at her. “You were hurt,” she said. “You needed them. I didn’t even use one on myself. And don’t tell me you actually paid for any of those.”
“They still had resale value!” Sly protested. Then the rest of Twilight’s words hit her, and she looked at the mare more closely. She was covered in soot, but there didn’t seem to be any major injuries, except for the odd mottling around her forelegs. Almost as though the skin beneath her coat was blistering, she thought.
Twilight noticed her stare. “Like I said, the river was nearly boiling when I found you,” she said. “You were scalded all over your body. We’re lucky the potions we had were enough.” She glanced down at her own legs, and winced. “Almost enough,” she corrected.
Sly’s mouth was suddenly dry. She swallowed a few times. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Are you...” she trailed off.
“I’m fine,” Twilight said, too quickly. “Dibs on the first potion we find, though.” She gave Sly a weak grin, as though unsure of her own humor.
Sly let out a quiet breath. “Deal.”
Twilight smiled at her, then yawned. Her teeth were a brilliant white against her soot-stained coat. “Sorry,” she said. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Get some rest, then. You earned it. I’ll keep watch.”
Twilight gave her another smile, then settled her head down on her forelegs. Her eyes closed, and within a minute her breathing became slow and regular.
Poor thing, Sly thought. She really did a lot today. More than I thought she could. She considered scouting around their little cave, as she had in the tree the previous night, but the fire was a little too comfortable to abandon so quickly. In any case, few creatures were likely to be wandering around so soon after a dragon attack.
She thought back to the dragon, and a goofy grin appeared on her face. A dead dragon! I killed a dragon! I did! I killed it! She couldn’t help a tiny giggle of elation.
“What’s so funny?”
Sly jerked at the sudden voice. Twilight was looking at her curiously.
“Oh, uh, just thinking about the dragon,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “Killing the dragon, I mean. Dragonborn, that’s me! You owe Celestia an apology, huh?”
Twilight stared at her, then looked away and bit her lip. “I guess I should tell you,” she said after a moment had passed.
“Huh? Tell me what?”
Twilight sighed. “Celestia doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn.”
The cave suddenly felt very cold. Everything seemed far away. “What do you mean?” she heard herself ask.
“Celestia doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn,” Twilight repeated. “She thinks... she thinks Luna is. That Luna will be reborn as the mythical warrior who will save us. That Luna is going to forgive her and everything will go back to the way it was before.”
“But she said I might be,” Sly said weakly. “She sent us to get the jewel. She said there was a chance—”
“I’m sorry, Sly,” Twilight interrupted. “Believe me, she means the best for all of us. But she doesn’t think you’re the Dragonborn.”
Sly tried to swallow. “I see,” she said slowly. “And what do you think?”
Twilight was silent for a while. The fire crackled as the last bit of wood collapsed into the embers. She stirred the ashes one final time, then turned to look directly at Sly. Her eyes were wide and shining.
“I think Celestia misses her sister very much,” she said.
Sly remained awake long into the night.



		
They set out at first light.
Banks of haze and smoke still hung over the valley, drifting toward them from the charred forest they had fled the day before. A vast black scar disfigured the tranquil winter landscape behind them. They moved quickly to escape it.
The river narrowed as they followed it back to its source in the center of the Everfree. Foothills rose around them, concealing the morning sun for hours past its rising and adding to the quiet gloom of the forest. The bare trees, standing in silent guard, stretched out on either side, ahead and behind. Their black trunks were like bars; the forest a prison. Sly picked up her pace.
Twilight Sparkle followed gamely, though she walked with a slight limp. Her forelegs were wrapped in white bandages stained yellow in places. Despite the injuries she walked with more confidence, as though having already bested the worst the forest had to offer, she had little left to fear.
They nearly missed the tomb, so thoroughly had the trees and snow concealed it. The only part left above ground was a stone dome about ten feet high, covered in dead weeds and vines. A small nook filled with dirt and leaves was the only blemish on its otherwise perfect surface. It was barely large enough for a pony, and they spent a short while clearing the detritus out. A stone door, flush against the dome wall, was hiding beneath the leaves.
“Do you think you can pull it open?” Sly asked. She stepped back from the stone door. After a second’s thought she levitated her sword out, pointing it at the door.
“I can try,” Twilight said. She planted her hooves and leaned forward, her face scrunching in concentration as her horn began to glow with a brilliant purple light. The door creaked. Dust and stone fragments spilled from the edge as it began to move. It slowly backed out of the hole, then toppled onto the ground with a thud that shook the earth. The branches above them swayed in response.
A perfect black hole beckoned them forward. Twilight gave Sly an expectant look.
Sly licked her lips. “It looks awful dark in there.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “It’s a tomb. What did you expect?”
“Right, right.” Sly took a deep breath. She crept closer to the hole, the sword held in front of her. Still dark, she noted. “It’s just—”
“Oh for Celestia’s sake, are you kidding me? You think you’re the Dragonborn, but you’re afraid of heights and the dark?”
That stung. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she said defensively. “I’m afraid of dark tombs filled with who-knows-what kind of undead monstrosities. Like any normal pony.”
Twilight gave her an annoyed glance, then pointed her horn at the portal. A tiny purple spark leapt from its tip and zipped through the doorway. There was a flash, and a gentle light spilled from the entrance.
“There, now it’s light,” Twilight said. “Your turn.”
And there goes the element of surprise, Sly grumbled. On the other hoof, if opening the door hadn’t alerted anything inside the tomb to their presence, it was unlikely that a simple light spell would. Leading with the sword, she slipped through the doorway, with Twilight a few steps behind.
The inside was surprisingly spartan. A simple stone altar stood in the center of the tomb, covered with the rotted remains of linen wraps and other offerings. Rubies and emeralds glimmered in the faint light of Twilight’s spell. On the far end of the chamber a stairwell led deeper into the crypt. Spindly, pale insects skittered away from the entrance, taking shelter in the cracks and crevices marring the walls.
“This is amazing,” Twilight whispered. “To think, we’re the first ponies to see this in hundreds of years! The Royal Historical Society will want to catalogue every—hey, don’t touch those!”
“Huh?” Sly looked up in surprise. She had already collected half the gems from atop the altar, and was in the middle of levitating the rest into her saddlebags. “Don’t touch what?”
“Those are offerings!” Twilight hissed, scandalized. “And more important, they’re historical artifacts. They need to be catalogued and collected properly, not just dumped in your bags!”
“Right, well, how about... actually, we’re just going to have to disagree on this one.” She scooped the rest of the gems into her bags, ignoring Twilight’s angry huffing, and poked through the rotting leavings on the altar for anything else of value. A glass bottle, still clear and sealed despite the centuries, rested beneath a scrap of cloth. Sly raised it in triumph.
“Well hello, healing potion,” she said to it. Twilight’s head snapped around to stare at the floating bottle. “I’d love to take you with me, but Twilight says you’re an important historical artifact. I guess I’ll just put you back until we can get a historian here to catalogue you.” She set the bottle down on the center of the altar.
Twilight scowled at her, then snatched the bottle up. She yanked the cork out and downed the potion in two gulps. Her eyes closed, and a look of pure bliss replaced the annoyance on her face.
Sly gave her a moment. “Better than sex, isn’t it?” she said with a grin.
Twilight spluttered, her eyes popping open. The bottle fell to the stone floor and bounced away. “Sly!” she said. A dark blush appeared on her face beneath her coat.
“Just teasing,” Sly said. The smile remained on her face, despite Twilight’s glower.
Twilight looked like she was about to say something, then harrumphed and tilted her head up. Sly snickered and went back to searching the room for valuables, without any more luck. Eventually she came to the staircase. It descended back and down into the earth for a dozen feet, ending in a thick wooden door with a large plaque upon its lintel. Unrecognizable characters had been deeply incised in the stone.
The stairway was wide enough for both of them. They stopped in front of the door, staring at the plaque. Twilight’s horn glowed to light their way.
“What is it?” Sly said quietly. Behind them Twilight’s light spell went out, plunging the crypt into darkness. Only the circle of light emanating from Twilight’s horn remained.
“It’s Old Equuish,” Twilight said. “Odd to see here, though. Even during Curalmil’s time it had been replaced by Middle Equuish. I assume they were using it for ceremonial purposes.”
“Can you read it?”
“I think so.” Twilight stood on her rear hooves, bracing her forelegs against the door. She strained to get her horn as close to the plaque as possible.
“Ageund, se te fustiir, a no fustiiren est patri—”
“I meant, can you translate it?” Sly asked. She didn’t bother to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“Oh! Right, sorry,” Twilight cleared her throat. “Ageund, third born of the blood, third born of the sun, third born of the gods. Ageund, third to betray the blood, third to betray the sun, third to betray the gods. Ageund, brute, monster, traitor. Ageund, be bound here forever. Ageund, guard in death what you stole in life. Ageund, stand watch until sun and moon and stars cease to be, and in their ceasing forget at last your crimes, Ageund.”
Of course it would be a cursed tomb. Sly licked her lips nervously as she glanced around the dark stairwell. The circle of light suddenly seemed much tighter around them. “Ageund?”
“It’s a name,” Twilight said. “One of Curalmil’s sons. The youngest, I think.”
“But this is... are we in the right tomb?” Sly tried to remember the markings on the map.
“It has to be,” Twilight said. “Curalmil’s sons were defeated and ruined within days of his death. None of them would have been given a burial like this.”
“So what’s with the plaque, then?”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t know. The history didn’t mention anything about this.” She perked up. “We’ll find out inside, I guess.” 
Sly wasn’t sure she wanted to find out, but it was a bit too late to back out now. Raising the sword to her shoulder, she unlatched the door and pushed it open.
The stairwell opened into a wide corridor, lined with stone alcoves holding the mummified remains of ponies. Huge urns, some broken, some intact, hugged the walls between the alcoves. Part of the corridor had collapsed at some point, spilling rock and dirt across half the floor. Bones, knocked from their resting places by the collapse, littered the length of the room. Large charcoal braziers provided more than enough light to see by.
Sly stepped carefully over the bones, moving down the corridor at a slow pace. It branched in two directions at the far end; from further ahead she could hear faint shuffling sounds. Behind her, much louder, came the sound of Twilight tripping over loose bones. She winced at the sudden noise, and shot Twilight an annoyed glance.
Twilight ducked her head. “Sorry!” she whispered. “Didn’t see it.” She trotted as quietly as she could to Sly’s side and crouched beside her. “What do you think?”
“Draugr,” Sly said. “Any of these corpses could be undead, but there are at least a few already up and moving. We may have disturbed them when we came in.”
Twilight gave the alcoves a worried glance. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Not every crypt is haunted, I mean. This could be normal.”
“Well, who do you think’s keeping the torches lit?”
Twilight’s gaze shot from the alcoves to the braziers. If anything, she managed to look more concerned by the fires. The light they cast suddenly seemed menacing, as though it shared a portion of the evil that tended them. The shadows seemed deeper, darker.
“Just stay behind me,” Sly whispered. “If anything comes at you, just do what you did with the dragon.”
“Toss a boulder at it?”
Sly had been thinking more along the lines of her shield spell, but that worked too. She gave Twilight a small nod, and started down the corridor. Her hoofsteps were silent as she hugged the wall, crouching so low her belly brushed against the the floor. As she approached the branch in the corridor she could make out the shuffling sounds down the path to her left. The rightward branch seemed empty and quiet.
She waited until the sounds faded, then darted across the open corridor to a hollow between a stone column and a burial urn. An unseen form around the corner further ahead cast vague shadows on the walls. Definitely draugr, she thought. She could smell it.
The bow would’ve been better, but all her arrows were back in the forest. She levitated the sword by her side and started to creep toward the corner.
Before she could take more than two steps, there was a loud rattle behind her, like a bone skidding across the floor, followed by a muffled curse. Sly sighed to herself. This is going to be a long delve.
The draugr apparently heard the commotion as well. The shuffling grew louder, and the shadows swept across the corridor as it came around the corner ahead of her.
It had been a large pony in life. Even in its current state, dessicated and shrunken, it towered above her. Its coat had long since fallen out, leaving only dry brown skin stretched to breaking over its bones. Milky white eyes stared straight ahead as it lumbered down the corridor, a large iron sword held in it mouth. Despite the rot, she knew it was neither deaf nor blind, and possessed a terrible strength capable of tearing her apart. 
She crouched against the wall, allowing it to pass without noticing her, fixated on the commotion of Twilight’s clumsy steps. Sly slipped behind it, fluid as flowing water, and raised her sword. The weapon hovered by her head, flat to the ground, its tip pointed at the back of the draugr’s neck. Slowly she crept along behind it, drawing ever closer, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Twilight provided the opportunity. She stepped around the corner, the glow around her horn flickering and dying as the sight of the draugr broke her concentration. Her eyes widened as the draugr’s head rose, drawing back its sword.
It never followed through. Sly’s blade slid neatly between the plates of armor covering the back of its neck, through its spine, and out the front of its throat. The draugr exhaled a cloud of putrid dust, stumbled forward, and collapsed. The sword fell to the floor with a loud ringing clatter that echoed in the stone chamber for seconds afterward.
Twilight stumbled back. Her hoof rolled on a leg bone and she landed hard on her haunches. She yelped as a sharp piece of bone jabbed her somewhere particularly uncomfortable.
Sly poked her head over the fallen draugr. “You okay?”
Twilight nodded, still staring at the draugr. She slowly came to her hooves and walked toward it, her face filled with a mix of disgust and curiosity. “This is a draugr?”
“Yup,” Sly said. “Persistent, but not very smart. Most of them, anyway.” She yanked her sword out of the corpse, and gave the draugr a quick search for anything of value. No gems, she noted sadly, but it carried a quiver of arrows that she appropriated for her own use. Twilight nearly gagged as Sly peeled back its armor, but said nothing.
“Some are more dangerous than others,” Sly continued. “I’ve heard stories of unicorn draugr that can still cast spells.”
“What animates them?” Twilight asked. Noting Sly’s puzzled glance, she elaborated, “I mean, why do they rise? Most ponies stay dead.”
“Oh, lots of theories. Ancient curses, or geas like the one you read back there. If Ageund is down here, he’s probably a draugr too.”
Twilight walked around the fallen draugr. Already it was beginning to decay, its skin flaking away as the last of the magics holding it together faded. Her eyes tightened slightly as she inspected it, before turning toward Sly.
“Are they still in there?” she asked. “Are they still... them?”
Sly shrugged. “It wouldn’t be much of a curse if they weren’t. Whatever’s inside them hates us, though.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us. The living.”
Twilight gave the corpse a final glance, then turned away with a tiny shudder. “Let’s keep moving,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan.” Sly put her sword back in its sheath, levitating the bow out in its place. Holding it ready at her side, she continued down the corridor, Twilight a few paces behind.



		
The corridor twisted and turned without any immediately obvious purpose. The only constant was the steady downward slope. The remains in the alcoves on either side grew steadily more decrepit and rotten as they descended. Water trickled down the walls, and formed a steady stream beneath their hooves, preceding them as they travelled deeper and deeper into the crypt. The solid walls, composed of massive stone blocks, soon gave way to the limestone of a natural cavern.
No more draugr accosted them, though they occasionally found corpses lying in the middle of the corridor, weapons lying by their side or still clenched between their teeth. They gave the bodies a very wide berth.
Eventually, after a seemingly endless descent, the corridor ended in huge metal door. Elaborate designs had been carved in its surface, forming flowing swirls like some foal’s idea of waves. Hoof-deep water had collected into a stagnant pool at the door’s base. Some unseen drainage allowed enough to flow past the door, otherwise the corridor would have long since flooded entirely.
“There’s more?” Twilight asked, frowning at the door. “How big is this place?”
“One way to find out,” Sly answered. She gave the door a tentative poke; it didn’t appear to be trapped. Mustering up her courage, she grabbed the handle in her teeth and pulled with all her strength against the weight of the backed-up water. The pool swirled and flowed through the opening door like an undammed river. The flowing water echoed in the darkness beyond.
The door opened onto a rough stone ledge overlooking a massive natural cavern. The ledge curved down the wall of the cavern to their left, makings its way in a gentle spiral around the room to the cavern floor nearly fifty feet below them. Bulbous, faintly glowing mushrooms clinging to the walls filled the hall with a gentle blue light that washed away colors. Sly’s coat appeared ghostly white in their light, Twilight’s a dirty grey.
Water continued to trickle past their hooves, running across the ledge and spilling over it in a miniature waterfall. The sound echoed in the cavernous space. They moved to the edge of the ledge together, though Sly chose to stay a few feet further back from the drop than Twilight. Below them, in the center of the cavern, a stone sarcophagus rested atop a raised platform carved from the rock floor. A quartet of braziers, one on each corner of the coffin, gave off a flickering orange light that failed to dispel any of the cavern’s shadows.
Twilight looked around the cavern, her eyes wide. “It’s bigger than I expected,” she whispered.
Despite their circumstances, Sly couldn’t help the snicker that escaped her lips. “Remember that. Mares don’t get to say it very often.”
Twilight turned away from the cavern to give her a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“Nothing, nevermind,” Sly said. “Do you think the jewel’s down there?”
“If that’s Curalmil’s sarcophagus, then yes. All the signs point to it.”
Sly took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Alright then. Stay behind me. And try to be quiet this time.”
Twilight frowned at her, but at least she was quiet. Sly led the way down the spiraling ledge, keeping her bow nocked and pointed at the bier in the center of the cavern. Water turned the stone beneath her hooves slick, and hundreds of years worth of mushroom spores squished unpleasantly with each step. The ledge wrapped fully around the cavern as it descended, ending in a gentle ramp that swept toward the center of the massive room. Falling water, from the ledge above them, formed a gentle rain that pattered on the rocky floor and dappled their colorless coats. In front of them a series of paving stones led to a set of stairs that ascended the platform.
They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The platform was just below head high, giving them a clear view of the coffin at its center. 
“Wait here,” Sly whispered. She licked her lips, then set a careful hoof on the first step. Nothing exploded, shot or fell on her. Taking that as a good sign, she crawled up the stairs, placing each hoof deliberately and slowly.
She felt terribly exposed atop the platform. The stone bier was less than a dozen steps away, and there was nowhere to hide on the flat surface. The weak glow of the braziers seemed to cast further shadows upon the sarcophagus, rather than light it. A huge stone slab rested atop it, carved with the image of a pony lying in repose. More of the ancient script, similar to what she had seen on the sign above the tomb entrance, was carved along the slab’s edges. She moved closer, trying to get a better look.
A faint sound behind her caught her attention. She turned to see Twilight waving a hoof. The mare whispered something, but it was too quiet to hear. Sly shrugged at her, mouthing the word “what” soundlessly.
Twilight pointed a hoof at the sarcophagus and mouthed something back. Whatever she tried to say was completely lost on Sly, who shrugged again.
Twilight rolled her eyes. “The sarcophagus says ‘Ageund,’ not Curalmil!” she hissed.
Huh? Sly turned back to the coffin. What did that sign say? Ageund, guard forever in death—
A deafening crack interrupted her thoughts. The stone slab atop the sarcophagus split in two down its middle, sending each half tumbling to the side. The crash as they hit the platform shook the cavern floor, and blasted a cloud of dust into the air. A deep growl filled the cavern as the echoes of the crash faded; something moved within the darkness.
Every Celestia-damned time. Sly swore silently and dove off the platform, landing in a roll that carried her further from the sarcophagus. Behind her Twilight stumbled away from the stairs and huddled against the ramp, a look of shock briefly occupying her face before her eyes narrowed.
The creature that stepped out from the dust was straight out of a nightmare. It was monstrously huge, easily as tall as Celestia, but where the princess was graceful and lean, this pony was a mass of muscle and bone undiminished by death. Black iron plates were strapped to its body with chains; a wicked, shining horn rose from its helmet. Most concerning to Sly was the axe held in its mouth. Its half-moon blade must have weighed as much as she did. Despite the passing of centuries beneath the earth, the axe still appeared sharp.
The draugr looked between them. Unlike the lesser undead they had killed earlier, its eyes glowed with a pale fire that left faint trails in the darkness as it turned. His gaze fixed on Twilight’s trembling form, and he took a step forward.
Crap! Sly levitated the bow in front of her, pulling back on the string. “Ageund!” she shouted.
Ageund turned to her just in time to catch the arrow directly between his eyes. The steel arrowhead bounced harmlessly off the helmet and went tumbling off into the darkness. His head snapped back from the force of the hit, and for a brief moment she thought he might go down that easily.
It was not to be. He recovered almost instantly, fixing her with a murderous glare. Forgetting Twilight, he pawed at the stone floor, then charged toward Sly.
She dove to the side, easily avoiding his axe. That’s right, big and clumsy, she thought. Can’t catch me—
Ageund turned with impossible speed, his rear legs lashing out as he passed. Her thought came to a premature end in a searing jolt of pain. The world went black for a moment, and when she came to she was lying in a heap against the wall of the cavern thirty feet away. Her chest felt like somepony had run over it with a wagon. She gasped for breath, and choked out a scream as the jagged ends of broken ribs ground together in her side.
Behind her, at the edges of her vision, Ageund spun in place as his legs returned to the floor. He gave her a measuring look, then turned to Twilight. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he snorted.
“Sly!” Twilight cried. Her horn flared and a bright purple flash enveloped her body, followed by a nearly simultaneous flash as she appeared standing next to Sly. She staggered for a moment before finding her hooves. “Can you get up?”
“I’m fine,” Sly grunted. She managed to get her front legs beneath her, and lurched to her feet. Her side felt like it was on fire. “Watch him.”
In the center of the cavern Ageund appraised them warily. He paced across the floor, putting himself between them and the ramp, then slowly strode toward them, his massive axe held high above their heads. Its blade was a shining silver crescent, as bright in the cavern as the moon in the night sky.
Sly’s bow was back where she had dropped it, almost halfway across the cavern. She gripped it with her magic, notched an arrow, drew and fired. Lacking any form of aim, the arrow went wildly off course, skidding across the stone floor behind Ageund and breaking against the stone wall. He didn’t even pause to glance at it as he advanced on them.
Damn, Sly thought. “Ideas?” she asked Twilight. She tried backing away from Ageund, but only made it a step before her rump hit the stone wall. Tiny glowing spores, knocked from the mushrooms, drifted to the floor like luminescent snow. 
“Yes,” Twilight said. “Stay here.” Her horn glowed again, and she stepped purposefully toward Ageund, stopping a few feet away. She craned her neck up to look him in the face, the light of her horn briefly outshining the hellish sparks in his eyes.
The monster looked down at her; if anything, it seemed taken aback by her bravery. The massive axe held in his jaws swung around as he tilted his head, but for the moment he withheld his strike.
I knew it! She is a brave pony! Sly leaned forward, wondering what fantastic destructive spell the mare would use. She envisioned a massive fireball blasting the draugr apart, or a wave of acid melting it into a puddle. The pain in her ribs was forgotten for a moment as she rose on the tips of her hooves in anticipation.
None of the above, it turned out. Twilight cleared her throat, and spoke.
“Hello sir,” she said. Only the faintest quaver in her voice betrayed her fear. “I am Twilight Sparkle, faithful student of Princess Celestia...” she trailed off into silence as Ageund’s blade rose above her head, her eyes widening in surprise.
What the hell— Sly dove forward, ignoring the searing pain in her ribs as she slammed into Twilight’s rump with her chest and knocked her to the ground at Ageund’s hooves. His axe whistled over their heads in a vicious diagonal arc that would have cleaved Twilight in half had it landed. Instead the blade crashed into into the floor, sending stone chips flying as it cut a deep gouge in the rock. A tuft of Sly’s powder blue mane drifted to the floor.
Ageund ripped the axe from the ground. His head was just inches from Sly’s, the metal horn fused to his helmet nearly brushed against hers. Hot breath burned at her face; its sulfurous stench choked her. The blade rose again above the two mares.
Sly stood without thinking. Her ribs screamed in pain as she inhaled deeply, more deeply than ever before in her life. The breath collected in her lungs, and a tiny bit of her soul chased it out as she Shouted.
“FUS!”
The word exploded from her mouth, the spark of her soul setting it ablaze as it erupted forth. A wave of force blasted the draugr, tearing the axe out of his mouth and lifting him up onto his rear legs. For a moment he teetered as the remnants of her Shout tore at him, then finally he toppled and crashed against the stone platform. Behind him the Shout rocked the braziers, casting their embers into the air in a fiery swirl that lit the room before just as quickly extinguishing, leaving only a suffocating darkness dimly broken by the glow of the mushrooms.
Sly was already moving. Her bow zipped across the room to her side as she dashed toward the fallen draugr. She bounded over him, the pain in her ribs forgotten as adrenaline coursed through her body. Ageund had barely started to move when she landed on the platform just above his head, spun in place, and nocked an arrow in the bow. His glowing eyes turned to glare at her as she drew the bow back and released it at point-blank range.
The steel-tipped arrow hadn’t even left its shelf when it struck him in the right eye. The shaft punched deep into the socket, through his brain and skull, and out the back of his helmet before hitting the stone floor. Ageund twitched, then sank to the floor, the fire in his remaining eye going dark.
“Ha!” she shouted down a him. “Haha! Not so tough now, are you? Oh, look at me, mister monster pony, going to guard—”
The fire in Ageund’s eye re-lit as quickly as it had extinguished. A growl rumbled from his chest, and he rolled to his hooves with a fluid grace that should have been impossible for an undead monster, much less one his size. The tip of his metal horn nearly impaled her head as he rose; she jerked back in time to merely receive a deep cut in her chin.
Sly jumped away, barely feeling the wound. One of her hooves caught on something large and metal as she landed, however, and she toppled backward. She caught a brief glimpse of Ageund’s fallen axe resting on the stone before her head slammed into the stone sarcophagus in the center of the platform. Bursts of light filled her vision, momentarily driving out the darkness of the cave. The cavern spun as she tried to get her legs beneath her. 
The clank of metal upon stone broke through the cotton in her ears. Ageund was back on the platform. He paused to pick up his axe, then strode toward her, his one eye glaring at her with centuries of pent-up malice. The shaft of her arrow still protruded from his other eye; drops of thick, black ichor ran down his cheek and fell to the ground. The tiny splatters they formed on the rock smoked.
Sly tried to stand. Instead the cavern flipped itself upside-down, and she found herself lying on her side, the acid tang of vomit coating her tongue. She tried spitting it out, then remembered there were more pressing concerns. Ageund’s massive steel-shod hoof, nearly the size of a dinner plate, crashed to the ground beside her. She twisted her head up; he loomed above her like a mountain, his axe raised for the finishing blow.
Perhaps it was the concussion, but the cavern seemed to grow brighter again. Ageund paused, and had just begun to turn toward the glow when a tiny ember, bright as a star, flew across the cavern and struck him square in the chest. The ember erupted in a fireball that washed around the draugr and swept across the platform. Sly’s world vanished in a flash of heat and light.
When she recovered again the platform was empty. A smokey stench filled her nostrils, and she noticed her coat was stained black with soot. She managed to stand this time, though the cavern still swam unsteadily in her eyes. Leaning against the sarcophagus seemed to help. 
Suddenly, Twilight was at her side. Where the hell did she come from? Sly stared at the mare, trying to get her mouth to make the shapes that would form real words, rather than the mumbling she was currently producing. No luck on that count.
Twilight gave Sly a worried glance. “Are you... actually, just stay here. Don’t move.” She gave Sly a long look, then turned toward the darkness behind the sarcophagus. Something back there stirred. Sly shook her head, trying to clear it, then followed Twilight’s gaze.
Ageund wasn’t looking too good. His exposed skin was charred to a crisp, riven with fissures that cracked and widened as he moved. The edges of his armor glowed a dull cherry red with the heat from Twilight’s fireball. Beneath the plates his flesh sizzled and smoked in the brief quiet as he rose to his hooves. The silence was shattered as he drew back his head and roared, shaking the cavern and sending drifts of stone dust floating down from the walls and ceiling high above.
“Twilight, try casting that fireball again,” Sly said. At least, she tried to say. What came out was a slurred jumble of vowels and consonants that would have done a drunkard proud. Twilight gave her another worried look.
Ageund took a shaking step toward them. One of his forelegs had burned clean down to the bone, and trembled as it struggled to hold his weight. His axe had vanished somewhere in the blast, though from the murderous look in his remaining eye, Sly guessed he would be quite happy to tear them apart with his bare hooves. The arrow impaling his skull smoldered; the ichor leaking from the ruined socket boiled.
Twilight stepped around the sarcophagus, her horn flaring with a purple light that shone in the cavern. A tiny red spark appeared at its tip and seemed to swallow the light, growing larger as it filled the air around the unicorn with darkness. The spark flickered, then shot from her horn toward Ageund in a blinding streak. Sly started to duck behind the sarcophagus, expecting another massive explosion.
Instead, Ageund lifted a hoof and swatted the spark aside. It burst into a spray of embers that just as quickly vanished. He let out a chuckle that shook the walls, and started toward them again.
“I’ll distract him!” Sly shouted as she stumbled around the sarcophagus toward Ageund. Judging from the shocked look on Twilight’s face, she had actually managed to say the words correctly. She had no idea where her bow had ended up, so she drew her sword instead. It cut a shining arc through the darkness as she swung it at the draugr’s neck.
Ageund leaned back, avoiding the strike, then lashed out at her with a hoof. She managed to avoid the blow, but not his shoulder as he charged at her. The still-hot armor scorched her coat before she could roll away from him.
A red glow filled the air behind her, but no fireballs struck the draugr. Sly lashed out with her sword again, trying to buy time. Ageund parried the sword with his bare leg; her sword barely broke his skin. Still no fireball.
“What are you doing!?” Sly shouted. “Cast the damn spell!”
“You’re too close!” Twilight yelled. “It’ll hit you too!”
Ugh! Sly swung the sword wildly, trying to keep Ageund at bay. Her sword was like a toothpick to him. “Just do it!” she shouted.
“No!”
Well, fine. Sly dove to the side, barely avoiding a crushing stomp that cracked the rock floor. She planted her front legs and kicked back with all her strength. Her hooves struck Ageund’s ribs and bounced clean off; she might as well have bucked the wall. She rolled away as his horn slashed through the air where she had been standing.
Come on! She jumped forward again, the sword held in front of her like a spear. For once Ageund was too slow, and the blade’s tip slid neatly between the armor plates covering his chest. He roared as the sword sank in to its hilt, and stumbled back against the cavern wall. Now or never, Twilight!
A red streak zoomed over Sly’s head, striking the wall high above Ageund. A massive explosion shook the cavern, and the ledge leading to the door high above cracked and fell in a thunderous rumble of stone against stone. Thousands of pounds of rock crashed down onto the draugr, filling the air with a cloud of impenetrable dust. Blinded, deafened, Sly staggered backward and fell into a ball, her hooves pressed against her ears in a hopeless effort to block the cacophony.
For what felt like an eternity the cavern shook as more rocks fell from the wall. It was all Sly could do to hope that the roof itself wasn’t going to cave in and entomb them all. Slowly, far too slowly, the dust began to settle, and she chanced a look around.
In the center of the room a faint purple light shone through the haze. Twilight was curled like a foal against the sarcophagus. As Sly watched she slowly lifted her head, and gazed around in confusion. “Sly?” she called.
“Yeah,” Sly said weakly. Her throat felt coated with dust. She tried coughing, and spat up a smear of black phlegm streaked with blood. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Twilight said. “Where is he?” She stared around the darkness, her eyes wide. A faint red spark began to build at the tip of her horn again.
“He’s dead!” Sly shouted. “No more fireballs!” She sighed with relief as the red light flickered and went out.
“He’s dead?” Twilight said slowly, as though unsure what the words meant. “He’s dead!” she said again, elation filling her voice. “Sly, he’s dead! We did it! We...” her words tumbled to a halt as she took in Sly’s condition. “Um, maybe you should sit down,” she suggested weakly.
“I’m fine,” Sly said. It was a lie. She barely made it another step toward Twilight before stumbling to the ground, and she decided she wanted to lie down for a bit. The last thing she saw was Twilight’s worried face above her before the room went dark.



		
Footnote: Level Up.  
New Perk: Bladesmare -- Attacks with swords have a 10% chance of doing critical damage
> Part Three: What the Spider Said
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part 3: What the Spider Said

The town square was filled with dust and shadows.
Sly darted between the buildings, imagining she was in the ruins of some long-forgotten temple. Wooden walls became vine-choked stones, crumbling under the weight of centuries. To her the fountain in the center of the square was an evil goddess’ altar, flowing with blood rather than water. Wind whistled through the derelict buildings, imitating the chanting of cultists preparing for their next sacrifice. A cloud eclipsed the sun, and the temple in her mind plunged into cloying darkness.
One of the abandoned stores was a tomb filled with fantastic treasures — the rest all traps, designed to lure her to her death. Empty doorways leered at her, beckoned her; the old bakery, abandoned for almost a year, called her name. She slipped through the door without a sound, her hooves stirring only the faintest traces of dust as she passed through the empty foyer.
Behind the counter were bags, still filled with rotting flour and other mouldering baking goods. Her imagination transformed them to burial shrouds, wrapped around the remains of long-dead warriors interred in restless sleep. She cautiously opened the drawer beneath the cash register, searching it for treasure. It was empty; she had cleaned it out long before, during another delve.
The kitchen was next. Embalming tools, shaped curiously like whisks and spatulas, lay scattered atop the tables and counters. She nudged them carefully with her hoof to check for traps. When (to her disappointment) nothing happened, she turned her attention to the cabinet doors beneath the counter.
This was her favorite part. A simple lock held the doors shut, designed more to prevent them from opening accidentally than to actually keep ponies out. She pretended it was a massive padlock, the last line of defense against sticky-hooved sneak thieves. Her horn glowed with a weak, faltering light, and a tiny wire floated out of her mane. She bit the tip, bending it at just the right angle, and slid it into the lock. A careful twist disengaged the latch, and the door cracked open.
Her tummy trembled as she imagined the treasures inside. Gold, jewels, weapons, a friend. She let out a shaky breath, and yanked the doors apart.
The cabinet was empty, just like last time. A tiny spider, disturbed by the light, spun around in its web. She sighed and closed the doors, taking a few extra seconds to lock them again.
Maybe next time.



		
Stars filled the night sky when Sly woke.
After a few minutes of looking up, she realized that something about them was off. Stars weren’t blue, for one thing. And hadn’t they been in a tomb? Something about this was all wrong.
She blinked a few times, and tried tilting her gaze to get a better look at the sky. Her head was resting on a saddlebag, which was much more comfortable than the rock floor. Especially since her skull felt like a mining pick was lodged in it.
Eventually the stars resolved into the bulbous shapes of glowing blue mushrooms, clinging to the walls of the cavern around them. Thousands of them filled the space with light. Tiny, sparkling spores drifted from their caps, crowding the room with an azure haze.
A campfire was burning merrily a few feet away, though the flames were a curious cream color, almost white. After a few minutes of staring at the fire, Sly realized with a start that there was no fuel being burned; the flames licked at the bare rock as though drawing sustenance from it. She rolled onto her belly with a grunt, intent at getting a closer look.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Twilight Sparkle said. She was resting a few feet away, with one of Sly’s saddlebags laid out before her. Her various belongings were arranged in neat rows according to type.
Sly worked her jaw a few times. Her mouth tasted like something had crawled onto her tongue and died. “Good morning,” she finally said. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”
“You really need to stop getting hurt,” Twilight countered. “Seriously, you do this for a living? How have you survived this long?”
“Well, I don’t usually fight dragons, or monsters like him.” She gave the room a quick glance. A huge rockslide completely covered one side of the cavern. Ageund’s final resting place, she presumed. “Speaking of which, I don’t suppose he was guarding the jewel?”
Twilight shook her head. “No such luck. His sarcophagus did have some useful things in it, though. Some weapons, a few scrolls, healing potions.”
Sly’s ears perked up at the mention of the potions. “Any of those left?” she asked.
Twilight’s horn glowed, and a stoppered glass bottled floated over. The red liquid inside sloshed around sluggishly, coating the glass with a dark smear. It looked almost like blood.
“Just the one, I’m afraid,” Twilight said. “I administered the rest while you were out. Your breathing wasn’t sounding very good.”
Sly took a deep breath. There was a slight twinge in her side, but the burning agony of her broken ribs grating together was gone. Amazing what a little magic could do. She uncorked the healing potion and took a swallow, savoring the delicious taste as it washed away the pain in her head. Her eyes closed, and she let out a long, satisfied sigh before chugging down the rest.
“So, is it really better than sex?” Twilight asked.
Sly coughed, getting some of the potion in her windpipe. “Twilight!” she eventually choked out. Twilight just smirked at her while she recovered. Fortunately, choking on healing potion juice wasn’t very painful. She wondered briefly if it was possible to drown in the stuff.
“Anyway, thank you for saving me back there,” Twilight said. “He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t stopped him.”
“We’ll call it even,” Sly said, waving a hoof dismissively. She paused, then continued, “That was really stupid, though. What were you thinking? Just ask politely and maybe he’ll let us steal the jewel?”
Twilight blushed. “You said they were cursed, that they were still inside... I thought maybe they just needed someone to be nice to them...”
Sly sighed. It was easy to forget how new Twilight was to this. She put on a smile for the other mare’s sake.
“That’s very kind of you, Twilight,” she said, “but these things are evil. The best you can do for them is destroy them as quickly as possible.”
Twilight looked pained at that, but eventually nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. “Anyway,” she said, “there’s a trap door inside the sarcophagus. I assume it leads deeper into the tomb.”
“Deeper? You mean there’s more?”
Twilight nodded, then stood, stretching out her legs. She waited for Sly to stand as well, and trotted over to the empty sarcophagus. A large wood door filled the entire bottom of the coffin; Ageund had apparently spent the centuries resting atop it.
“Huh,” Sly said. “Guess they didn’t want anyone sneaking past him. Do you think we should go in?”
“No, but that’s what we came for, isn’t it?” Twilight gave the door a troubled glance, then walked back to the saddlebags and began packing their supplies. Sly considered helping her make sure the valuables were safe and secure in the correct saddlebags, but it looked like Twilight had a system of some kind, and she decided not to interfere. Besides, she could rearrange things later, after Twilight was asleep.
Instead she went looking for her missing bow, and found it in pieces at the edge of the platform. Something large and heavy had crushed the limbs into splinters. Ageund must have stepped on it, she realized with dismay. Just lovely. Two bows broken and my sword buried under tons of rock. I guess I can spit at the draugr. She kicked at the broken wreck and walked back to Twilight, who was still stuffing books back into her saddlebags.
“You said there were some weapons in the sarcophagus?” Sly asked.
“Huh? Yeah, I think they were weapons,” Twilight said. “I dumped them by his axe.” She pointed a hoof to the far side of the sarcophagus.
She thought they were weapons? Sly stared at her for a moment, then sighed and trudged in the direction Twilight had indicted. The axe was still resting on the platform where she had tripped over it during the fight. It was far, far too large for her to wield. She’d be lucky to even pick the damn thing up.
Fortunately there were smaller weapons as well. What was probably Ageund’s dagger rested next to the axe’s blade. It was finely worked steel, with a ceramic handle that had withstood the centuries well. She picked it up and gave it a twirl: perfectly balanced, and nearly the size of her sword. Well, my luck’s not all bad. She pulled her old, empty scabbard off and attached the new blade in its place.
Her luck got better. Resting against the side of the casket where Twilight had dropped it was a bow. She sucked in her breath and levitated it reverently.
It was as much a work of art as a weapon. Carved from dense ebony, its curved limbs curled away from the shelf, adding extra tension to the string. Silver wire was wrapped around the grip where an earth pony would have braced it with their hoof. Her old bow was a toy compared to this weapon: a tool for hunters, next to this instrument of war. A pure, vibrant hum filled the air as she plucked the string. She hugged the bow to her chest, barely resisting the urge to hop around the room like a filly. Eeeeee!
She wanted to fire it. Right now. Nothing was more important than playing with her new bow. She looked around desperately for a target, but the only other pony in the room was Twilight, and she probably wouldn’t appreciate being part of the test. Instead Sly whined to herself and wandered back toward the campfire. In the brighter light she could make out delicate carvings etched into the black bow: armored ponies, griffins, monsters, all entangled, all at war. Just below the shelf a single word was carved upon the front of the lower limb. It was in the old script — Sly couldn’t even pronounce it.
“Hey, what’s that say?” she asked, shoving the bow in Twilight’s face.
Twilight flinched, then scowled at her. “Manners?” she mumbled, but nevertheless she squinted at the bow. “Aefenrepsung. Nightfall. Is that like a name or something? Who names a bow?”
Sly sighed. So smart, and yet so clueless. She resisted the urge to ruffle Twilight’s beautiful mane again. Nightfall... I like it!
“Anyway, shall we?” Twilight asked. Despite the soot and dust smeared into her coat, she seemed to be holding up well. Together they approached the sarcophagus. 
Come on, jewel! Sly silently cheered as Twilight gripped the trap door and pulled it open. A set of stairs greeted them, leading deeper into the earth beneath the cavern. Damn.
“Who designs tombs like this?” Sly said, half to herself. She hopped nimbly onto the edge of the sarcophagus, then down onto the stairs. Twilight clamored over the edge with significantly less grace.
The stairs were as wide and dark as the set outside Ageund’s tomb. Sly didn’t count, but she suspected it had the exact same number of steps. A door, just like the one leading out of the tomb, waited for them at the bottom. The only difference, as best Sly could tell, was the plaque above the door: the inscription was shorter.
Twilight stood to get a better look, and began translating. “Cianim, second born, middle son. Cianim, least loved, least remembered. Cianim, schemer, betrayer. Cianim, be bound here forever. Cianim, reside in death upon the webs you wove in life. Cianim, stand watch until sun and moon and stars cease to be, and in their ceasing forget at last your crimes, Cianim.”
“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Sly said dryly. “Let me guess, one of Curalmil’s sons?”
Twilight nodded glumly. “I suppose I should tell you now he had three sons, so this might not even be the end of the tomb.”
“Better and better,” Sly said. “Remind me to thank Celestia when we get back.” She placed her hooves against the door and leaned into it. The wood creaked in protest, and slowly began to open. Puffs of rust wafted from its hinges.
The tunnel below was even more primitive than the cavern above. No attempt had been made to level the rough rock floor. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like icicles, some so large they formed rock columns that further crowded the the tight passage. The light from Twilight’s horn reflected faintly back at them from the darkness ahead, a dark gossamer mirror that shifted with the gentle breath of air flowing deeper into the labyrinth.
“Wait here,” Sly whispered, silently readying her new sword. There was no sound from farther down the cave, just the odd reflections shining back at them. For a moment she thought it might be a ghost, but those had always glowed with their own spectral light. This was something else entirely. Curious, she pressed forward, the tip of her blade leading the way into the tunnel.
The walls grew darker as she pulled further and further away from Twilight. There was still enough light to see by, but the walls became lost in the shadows. Ahead, the reflections seemed no closer than when she had started. What the hell is that?
The answer came sooner than she expected. A long step carried her over a break in the rock floor, and she felt a sticky web break across her face. Thin silken strands tugged at her mane, snapping apart and wrapping themselves around her horn and hair. She came to a sudden and disgusted halt.
Okay, spiderwebs, she thought. This is fine. There must be more up ahead causing that reflection. This is perfectly fine. 
Tiny legs tickled the side of her neck, slowly moving back across her shoulders and withers. She froze. The sensation vanished when it reached her armor.
It’s just a spider. This is fine. Deep breaths, Sly. Deep breaths.
Something moved in her mane. A moment later it was joined by a friend, which crawled around the base of her horn. Her eyes had adapted enough that the shadowed walls were no longer pitch black, and she could see dozens of tiny shapes — and a few not so tiny — skittering across the stone. She felt another trying to climb the inside of her leg.
This is fine, she thought. The important thing is not to panic. Remember, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them. The first spider emerged from beneath her armor and started exploring her belly. Do not panic. Do not. No panicking. Stop.
“Ah!” she heard Twilight cry out from the entrance. Her voice was higher than usual, almost girlish. “Sly, I saw a spider!”
No. Do not panic. One of them began scaling her snout. Its legs probed curiously at her nostrils.
“Oh my heavens. Sly, you need to see this thing,” Twilight said. “I didn’t know they grew this big.”
That was the tipping point. The panic that had been building finally burst through the last frayed remnants of her self-restraint. Screaming and flailing about was clearly the best course of action in this circumstance.
“Gah!” she yelled, bursting into motion. She shook her head violently back and forth, flinging the tiny creatures off into the darkness. Her sword swung around wildly, slicing effortlessly through the silk strands and striking sparks from the walls. She stomped, and kicked, and stomped and kicked some more, until the last of the crawlies had fallen away, and she charged back down the tunnel to Twilight. Screaming was involved; it was not her proudest moment.
Twilight stared, mouth agape, as Sly jumped in place, trying to shake the last of the spiders out. After several breathless and thoroughly humiliating minutes she finally slowed, her head hanging and her tail flicking wildly to chase away the phantom spiders she half-felt crawling across her back.
“Uh,” Twilight said.
“Don’t... say anything...” Sly panted. 
It turned out the cave spiders were afraid of light. Twilight led the way down the tunnel, her horn shining like a beacon in the darkness. The spiders fled from its brilliance, taking shelter in the nooks and crevasses of the rocky walls around them. They followed the passage deeper into the tomb; behind them spiders descended from the ceiling on silken strands, reclaiming their tunnel as it fell back into the shadows. Occasionally they encountered thick mats of webbing blocking their way. Sly hacked them down with her sword, and they continued ever onward.
The tunnel ended in what could only be described as a pit. A massive circular space opened before them, its far edges lost in the shadows. In the circle of light cast by Twilight’s horn they could make out rough walls, riddled with cracks and alcoves, rising high above their heads. Huge lightless braziers, filled with dust and ancient ashes, flanked the entrance. The gloom was broken all around by the faint shimmer of spiderwebs in the darkness.
Sly unslung Nightfall and began creeping around the edge of the pit. What looked like bones littered the stone floor, mixed with larger shapes — about the size of ponies — entirely mummified in webs. She was pretty sure the little spiders in the tunnel weren’t that ambitious.
Where are the spiders, anyway? She stopped for a moment and peered around the room. All of the spiders had vanished. In the tunnel the damn things had been close enough to touch, always lingering just outside the light of Twilight’s horn. The constant skittering of their spindly legs clicking against the rock was gone; only the sound of Twilight’s rapid breathing remained.
She was about to mention the spiders’ absence to Twilight when a rattle from high above broke the stillness. There was a whisper of air, and a large bone crashed to the floor not ten feet away. It bounced with a loud crack, flipped end over end, and came to a rest near the center of the pit. Sheets of webbing slowly fluttered to the floor around it.
Sly swung the bow up, sighting down the drawn arrow at the shadows where the bone had fallen from. She couldn’t see a thing more than a few feet away; for all she knew, the ceiling might be a dozen or a hundred feet above them.
“Sly?” Twilight whispered behind her.
Sly licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. “Yeah?”
“That’s... that’s a pony’s leg bone.”
“Uh huh. Can you cast a light spell up there?”
Twilight took her time answering. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she finally asked, her voice weak and thready.
“I can’t shoot what I can’t see.”
"Right." Twilight let out a deep breath, then pointed her horn up into the darkness. A tiny purple spark built at its tip, shining like a star and banishing the shadows around them. With a final burst of light it leapt into the air and streaked toward the ceiling faster than one of Sly's arrows.
The spark flew past acres of webs stretched across the high room like sails. It flew past dark, twisted cocoons trapped in the silk. It flew past pieces of armor, swords, shields, spears, helmets, tattered clothes, torn bags, bones, and bones, so many bones, all caught in the webs. It flew higher and higher, and finally burst against the stone ceiling hundreds of feet above, filling the pit with a wan light that cast pale dim shadows on the floor.
"Oh dear Celestia," Twilight whispered. "It's an abattoir."
One of the shadows moved.
Sly whipped Nightfall around, trying to track the dark shape in the webs. It vanished into an alcove carved into the wall; her arrow broke harmlessly against the stone. Above them the webs swayed slowly. A few more bones, much smaller than the first, fell to the floor with a clatter.
Crap! Sly floated another arrow — one of her last, she noted — out of her quiver. She backed up against Twilight, both of them craning their heads to peer into the gloom. Seconds passed, and stillness returned to the pit, broken only by the faint sensation of Twilight shivering at her side.
"Giant spider?" Twilight asked. A bright red ember appeared at the tip of her horn. Sly could feel the heat pouring off of it.
"Probably," Sly said. "I don't think you should try reasoning with it."
"Wasn't going to try," Twilight said. "Maybe we can scare it with—"
Sly never found out what she intended to scare it with. A wad of gooey webbing shot out from one of the lower alcoves, striking Twilight directly between the eyes and plastering her face from horn to snout with phlegmy strands of silk dripping with some unmentionable fluid. She fell back onto her haunches, her mouth hanging open in shock. The glowing spark at the tip of her horn went out with a tiny puff of smoke.
Ohhhh... wow. Definitely a giant spider. Sly nearly loosed her arrow into the alcove, but the dark space held no target she could see, and arrows were too precious to waste on anything but a sure shot. Instead she kept her bow trained on the hole, and darted forward to stand between it and Twilight.
“Sly, I can’t see anything,” Twilight said. Her voice was high, almost on the verge of panic.
“It’s just spider silk,” Sly said. She tried to keep her tone as calm as possible, for Twilight’s sake. “Try brushing it off.” The webs above her rustled as something large moved among them.
There was a disgusting squishing sound behind her. Sly couldn’t help but chance a look over her shoulder at its source. Twilight stood on three legs, the fourth apparently stuck to her face. 
“Sly...” Twilight’s voice sounded like it was about to break.
“Okay,” Sly said. “It’s okay. Just, um, hang on a second.” The faint light high above began to dim, deepening the shadows around them. Something shook the webs, and more bones rained down upon them. One struck a glancing blow on Twilight’s flank.
It was too much for the mare. Blind, hobbled and under assault from falling debris, she shrieked and reared onto her back legs, flailing with her one free hoof as though trying to ward off unseen attackers. She stumbled badly as she came back down, and fled on three legs across the room.
“I can’t see!” she wailed. “I can’t see! I can’t—” Her cries cut off when she reached the stone wall at the far end of the room head first without slowing. Sly stared, stunned, as Twilight staggered back and fell to the ground with a quiet groan.
Well, this can’t get any worse, she thought, right before the light spell finally died, plunging the pit into absolute darkness. Only the faint glow surrounding her bow, far too weak to illuminate anything else, broke the inky black night surrounding her. Even the glimmer of light reflecting on the spiderwebs was gone. Right. Of course. Thank you, universe.
Twilight’s decision to run around screaming was starting to look like the best option left. She crammed that thought as far back into her mind as she could, and raised Nightfall in front of her, intent on at least injuring the spider when it finally decided to come and eat her. 
“Welcome, welcome little ponies, to my parlour...” a soft, sibilant voice sounded in the darkness, somehow filling the huge space despite being no louder than a whisper. The words echoed far longer than they should have, haunting the cavern like restless spirits speaking from beyond the grave.
“Who’s there?” Sly shouted. Her own voice was swallowed in the emptiness. Twilight’s faint groans carried to her across the room, and Sly slowly began creeping toward the sound. Each hoofstep was a mixture of guesswork and caution in the pitch black. The bow shook in her grip.
“Who?” The unseen speaker sounded genuinely curious. Silence stretched out interminably before the voice returned. “I had a name once, but now it is gone from me. Like so much else.”
She almost tripped over Twilight when she finally reached the other mare. They both yelped in surprise, though Twilight sounded much groggier. At least she’s awake, Sly thought.
“Twilight,” she hissed. “I need some light.”
“Wha?”
“Light! Cast that light spell!”
A pause. “Light?”
Damn it. She spun back around, the bow held out like a talisman to ward off evil. Probably just as effective, considering she had absolutely no way to aim it in the darkness.
“You seem nervous, little pony,” the voice in the dark whispered. It was much closer now, almost directly above her. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt at all.”
Her heart felt like it was about to explode out of her chest. “What doesn’t hurt?” she asked, already dreading the answer.
“Dying, of course,” the darkness said.
Beside her, Twilight stirred. A tiny red spark, so dim she almost thought she was imagining it, appeared near the floor. It cast just enough light to separate shape from shadow, stone from flesh. For all its weakness, the spark was more beautiful, more welcome than any dawn. It was hope.
The light grew, and pushed back the darkness. Slowly, the walls and floor came back into focus, washed in red and flickering as Twilight pulled her hooves under her. Sly leaned down and pressed her shoulder against the other mare's. Together they stood, Twilight balancing precariously on three legs.
"Are you okay?" Sly whispered into her ear. Her breath ruffled Twilight's mane, revealing a streak of blood running down the side of her head. It was colorless in the red light, visible only as a dark, shining runnel that dripped onto the floor.
"No," Twilight whispered back. She sounded remarkably calm, considering the situation. "I think I'm going to throw up... can you see anything?"
“Sort of. Not enough,” Sly said. “Can you cast that light spell again?”
Something rumbled high above, sending drifts of dust and loose cobwebs drifting down to the floor. After a moment Sly realized it was laughter.
“Light,” the voice said. “What wonderful gifts you have brought me. Yes, bring me your light, that I might remember the sun.”
“Sly, who is that talking?” Twilight asked. She tried to pry her hoof away from the sticky mass of webs covering her face, without any luck. 
“I think... I think it’s the spider.” Sly slowly edged along the wall back to the entrance, guiding Twilight with gentle pressure on her shoulder. The tunnel leading back out the crypt was perhaps thirty feet away, and was hopefully too narrow for the giant spider to follow them down. Little spiders seemed much less dangerous all of a sudden.
“Spiders can’t talk,” Twilight said matter-of-factly. She stepped on a rib bone and nearly stumbled to the floor. The loud crack of the bone snapping beneath her hoof echoed in the cavern.
“I know. Just... just keep moving, okay?” They were almost halfway to the tunnel. Sly dared to think they might actually make it when a huge form, indistinguishable before from the rock wall, stepped down from its perch above the entrance, blocking their escape.
Calling it a giant spider was an injustice. It was an enormous spider. Its squat, bulbous body was the size of a wagon, bristling with spines and hairs in ridges running from head to spinners. Eight legs, thick as trees, held the creature off the ground. Each was tipped with a pair of curved claws that scraped the rock floor with its steps. There wasn’t enough light to make out its face, aside from a pair of fangs that could have pulled double duty as wheat scythes.
Sly froze. Every muscle in her body locked up, ignoring her brain’s desperate orders to run, to jump, to dive, to flee, to do anything but stand there before this monstrous predator. She didn’t breathe; she couldn’t breathe. Nightfall slowly settled to the floor as the magic holding it in the air slipped away, along with her will to move. Terror, cold and piercing, pinned her in place
“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked. Her breath was coming faster, almost panting.
The spider took a step, closing half the distance between them. Its hot, rank breath tugged at their coats. A carrion stench invaded their lungs. Sly felt something warm and wet trickling down the inside of her rear legs; a distant part of her mind burned with humiliation, but was drowned out by the jibbering fear running rampant through the rest of her thoughts.
“Sly? Please talk to me.” Twilight’s voice was edging back into panic.
“I’m afraid your friend is indisposed,” the spider said. Its sibilant voice grated against their ears. “Pity. So few ponies to speak with down here.”
Twilight took a shaky step back. Absent her support, Sly sank to her knees, and stared up at the monster looming above her. In the dim light it filled her vision. It filled the cave. It was the only thing in the world. It was her world.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” Twilight said. Her head darted around blindly, trying to get a fix on the spider, not realizing it dominated the entire pit. “You’re Cianim.”
The spider reared back in surprise, its front pair of legs lifting off the ground. The claws at their tips were nearly as large as her horn, Sly noted. She tried again to stand, but her legs refused to cooperate.
“Cianim,” it said slowly, as though tasting the word. “Yes, Cianim. That is three gifts you have brought me, beautiful ponies.”
“Three gifts?” Twilight asked. She bumped against the wall, and almost fell back onto her haunches. “Light, a name, what else?”
“The most precious thing of all,” it said. Its front legs lowered to the floor on either side of Sly’s trembling form. The curving fangs brushed against her mane.
Friendship? Please be friendship.
“Meat,” it whispered, just for her. Its mouth yawned open wide enough to snap her head off in a single bite.
Nope? Okay, time to move. Time to move, Sly. Time to move time to move NOW! She rolled forward, her horn brushing against something warm and wet that she desperately didn’t want to think about. The spider’s fangs crashed together behind her with a spray of venom. Tiny droplets spattered her coat before she could kick her legs away, eating smoking holes in her skin. Her sword flicked out wildly, scoring a thin line on the spider’s abdomen. It didn’t even notice the wound.
“Twilight, do something!” she yelled, leaping to her hooves and darting out from beneath the spider’s body. It spun with an unnatural grace to follow her, its front legs held high in the air.
“I can’t see anything! What do you want me to do?” Twilight edged away from the fight, pressing her shoulder against the wall for support.
Gah! Sly jumped backward, barely avoiding the spider’s leg as it crashed down. Its claws carved a pair of deep lines in the stone where she had been standing. She lashed out with her sword at the leg, this time managing to dig into its armored flesh. A spray of black blood stained the wall beside her. The spider jerked its leg back with a shriek and eyed her sword warily.
It was the opening Sly needed. She gulped a deep breath of air, ignoring the putrid stench, and Shouted it back out. “FUS!” The Thu’um erupted from her throat, filling the pit with a ghostly blue light as it blasted the spider. Debris crashed down from the webs, and went flying against the far side wall; the floor itself shook from the force of her Shout.
Cianim barely budged.
Huh. She had just enough time for that insightful observation before a giant leg lashed out, crashing into her side with enough force to send her tumbling across the room. Her armor prevented the claws from slicing her apart, but the blow still left her lying shaken on the floor. 
“What’s going on?!” Twilight cried. She pulled again at the webs covering her face, without any more success than before. “Sly, what’s happening?”
“I could really use some help!” Sly shouted back as she rolled to her hooves. Her sword was lying on the floor near Cianim. She reached out with her magic, but before she could blink, one of the spider’s massive legs slammed down atop the blade, pinning it to the floor.
“I know this sword,” the spider said. It ground the blade into the rock, drawing sparks from the steel. “You’ve met my brother, haven’t you?”
Sly tried to edge away from the spider. It wasn’t easy; with its legs spread, the monster covered nearly half the pit floor. Nightfall was on the floor near Twilight, and she began circling back toward it. With any luck the spider would stay fixated on the sword for a few more seconds.
Again, no such luck. It turned its baleful glare toward her and lashed out with its claws. Sly barely evaded the leg, and burst into a run toward the bow. She was a few steps away when a sopping, hot mass struck her flank, knocking her to the floor again. A blanket of sticky webs enmeshed her from the hips down, tangling around her rear legs and binding them together.
A shadow loomed over her. She looked up to see Cianim’s massive form blocking the rest of the pit. His fangs parted slowly, and a dry chuckle spilled from his fetid mouth.
“Twilight,” Sly said, surprising herself with her own calm. “Please do something.”
“I can’t see!” Twilight wailed. “I can’t do anything!”
Cianim was close enough to touch. Sly tried dragging herself away with her front legs, but the webbing bound her neatly to the stone floor.
“Twilight,” she tried again. “I am going to die.”
Twilight sobbed. “I’m sorry! Please, Sly, I’m so sorry!” she cried.
Well, that’s that. Sly turned back to the spider. She had always hoped that when death finally came for her she would meet it proudly and without fear. That was how the Dragonborn would do it, right? Stare death in the face, spit in its eye, etc. She tried to work up a bit of saliva, but nothing came. Oh well. Certainly there had been a few undignified moments, but overall she didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Even wetting herself was entirely understandable, given the circumstances. Despite Cianim’s earlier assurances, she wondered if death would hurt.
The answer would have to wait. Behind her the dim red light doubled and redoubled, becoming a blinding flare that lit the pit like day. A red spark streaked across the room, far away from either Sly or the spider. It slammed into the far wall with a deafening crash and blossomed into a ball of fire that flowed out and up, engulfing half the room. Bits of rock, blasted from the wall by the impact, pelted her in a stinging hail.
“Did I get him?” Twilight asked.
The answer was obviously no, but Sly wasn’t sure she wanted Twilight to try again. The expansive sheets of webbing stretched across the cavern above them caught fire and began to burn enthusiastically. Tiny flaming bits drifted down toward them. Sly batted them away with her magic; Cianim ignored them entirely, his face turned up to the inferno.
“Light,” he said, his voice easily carrying above the roar of the fires. “So much light...” His front legs lifted, reaching up to embrace the burning mass above him. Flames washed over his armored skin without causing him any apparent measure of pain.
In the fire’s light Sly got her first true look at his face. The fangs were still there, but his head was that of a pony’s, terribly deformed, nearly split in half by gaping jaws. The remnants of a mane trailed down his thorax, blending eventually with the coarse hairs and spikes sticking from his abdomen. Only his eyes, bright blue and wide as a foal’s, were unblemished. They were filled with wonder and flames.
“Sly, what’s happening?” Twilight coughed. The air in the cavern was beginning to fill with smoke. “What’s going on?”
Sly didn’t answer. Cianim’s warped, cursed face held her horrified gaze. Nothing could pull her away from it.
“Sly?! Say something!” Twilight stumbled forward and collapsed onto her chest. She grunted and tried to tear her stuck hoof free again. Perhaps it was the heat; perhaps desperation lent her strength, but finally the webbing tore, and with a cry of pain she ripped her leg away, uncovering an eye in the process. She blinked furiously, then looked up, a expression of relief briefly on her face.
But then she saw the raging fires. She saw Cianim — the monstrous, cursed amalgam, larger than anything she could have imagined — reaching up with his arms. She saw his horrible face, the twisted mockery of a pony that had lived for centuries in the darkness, waiting for them to stumble to their deaths in his lair.
Twilight did what any sensible pony would do in her situation. She screamed.
She screamed even she tore one of the huge stone braziers from its rocky cradle by the tunnel entrance with her magic. She screamed as she slammed it repeatedly into Cianim’s form, battering the giant to pieces. She screamed as he collapsed, though he never took his gaze from the brilliant light of the fire, even when she brought the brazier down upon his face, closing his blue eyes forever. She screamed until Sly managed to free herself from the webbing and wrap her in a tight hug.
Sly held Twilight’s face against her chest, mumbling soothing sounds into the mare’s ear, until her sobbing quieted to noiseless trembles. Above them the last of the webs were consumed by the hungry fires, and darkness returned to the cavern.



		
“Come on, we’re almost there. There’s some light up ahead.” It was a lie, but it was a comforting lie. That was more important than truth at the moment.
Twilight Sparkle didn’t answer. She hadn’t spoken since the pit, since Cianim. Instead she followed obediently behind Sly, stumbling occasionally in the dark tunnel. Half her face was still wrapped in webs; on the other half Sly could faintly see her eye, wide and wet.
The little light they had came from a book. Sly had pulled the first one she could reach out of Twilight’s saddlebags, then ripped the pages out and set them on fire with a smouldering piece of web from Cianim’s lair. Each page burned quickly, but it was a thick book and would last them a while, even at this rate. She hoped it wasn’t expensive.
The tunnel ended in another door, what felt like hours later. Sly was starting to get sick of the things. It wasn’t locked, and opened easily when she leaned against it.
Oh, thank you Celestia!
The room beyond was a wide corridor with another door at the far end. A plaque above the lintel bore a message in Old Equuish. Despite the promise of another battle to come, the room was a vast relief. It held clean air, wooden bookcases, and complete lack of draugr, dragons, spiders or who-knew-what monsters waiting for them. She pushed the door closed behind them, and started smashing bookcases to pieces for firewood. Ruined books, ancient beyond reading, made for wonderful kindling.
A few minutes later she had a cheery fire burning in the middle of the room. It wasn’t as neat as Twilight’s magical campfire from before, but after the suffocating darkness of Cianim’s lair it was the most beautiful thing in the world. She gently pushed Twilight to the floor next to the fire, sat down beside her, and began checking her for injuries. Aside from a nasty bump where she ran into the wall, she seemed fine.
Physically, anyway. Sly lifted a wool blanket out of her saddlebags and draped it over their backs. Twilight’s leaned heavily against her side, her shivering eventually slowing to the point that it didn’t rattle Sly’s teeth as well.
“Sly?” Twilight said. Her voice was high and weak.
Sly let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Hearing Twilight speak was almost as much a relief as finding a safe room to rest in. “Yeah?”
“I killed him, didn’t I?”
She’d done more than that. Twilight had destroyed Cianim. She had smashed his body to pieces with the stone brazier. Most of his legs had no longer been attached to anything by the time she was done. Calling it gruesome was an understatement. That wasn’t what Twilight needed to hear, though.
“You did what you had to do,” Sly said instead. “You saved my life. That’s what, three times now?”
Twilight was quiet for a while. She stared into the fire silently while Sly fed another broken board into the flames.
“It wasn’t like Ageund,” she eventually said. “He wasn’t some mindless undead. He could think. He could talk, Sly. He could talk, and I killed him.”
Sly sighed. Why would Celestia do this to her? Perhaps she truly hadn’t known how dangerous this trip would be. Perhaps she thought it would be as easy as finding the tomb, cracking it open, taking the jewel and skipping back home to Canterlot. Perhaps it was their fault for continuing, long after it was clear what dangers awaited them. Perhaps. 
It wasn’t too late to stop. “We don’t need to do this, you know,” she said. “We can go back. Tell Celestia we couldn’t find it. There are other weapons we can use against the dragons.”
Twilight was silent again as she stared into the fire. The room had started to warm up nicely. Beneath them the stone floor was almost comfortable, no longer sucking the heat from their bodies.
“It’s not that simple, Sly,” she said. “The dragons have been taking more and more territory every year, and at this rate we’ll lose everything but the major cities within a decade. Celestia is desperate to get the Wind’s Eye back. She would’ve come here herself if she could leave Canterlot.”
Sly blinked. That actually sounded like a good idea. “Why can’t Celestia leave Canterlot?”
“It would be ashes by the time she returned. Did you see the dragon outside the palace?”
“Yeah, couldn’t miss it. It took out half the gardens.”
Twilight nodded. “It would have taken out more if she hadn’t killed it. They’re attacking almost every day, now.”
“Celestia killed it?” Sly boggled. She couldn’t imagine the kind, motherly figure with the beautiful mane slaying a dragon. “Why doesn’t she just hunt them all down, then?”
“Dragons are immortal,” Twilight said. “Even if you kill one, it will be reborn again somewhere else. It’s like trying to empty a lake with a sieve. Only the Dragonborn can kill a dragon forever.”
Oh. Ohhhh. That’s why the Dragonborn is so important. Sly hummed thoughtfully, then realized Twilight was giving her a hard look.
“I knew that,” she said quickly. “Because I’m the Dragonborn, I mean. Already knew that. Shouting, remember? I can shout.”
Twilight shook her head. “Sometimes, Sly, I...” She sighed. “Nevermind.”
It was an excellent time to change the subject, Sly decided. The less critical reasoning applied to her claims, the better. She cleared her throat.
“Hey, let’s try to get those webs off your head. That can’t be too comfortable.”
It was easier said than done. The gooey webbing had started to dry, which made it fairly simple to remove from Twilight Sparkle’s face and eye. The entire thing peeled back like a mat, only taking a bit of her coat with it. Twilight gritted her teeth, but didn’t complain about the pain.
She did complain about the next part, however.
“You want to cut it?!” She grabbed her mane, holding it with her hooves defensively. After a moment she yelped and pulled her legs away before they could get stuck again.
“I have to,” Sly said. “There’s no way we’ll be able to get it out.”
It was the truth. Except for a few inches at the base of her neck, most of Twilight’s purple mane was coated with the sticky, hardening mass. Special solvents might have been able to dissolve it, but they weren’t exactly near a beauty parlor.
“But... it’s my mane!”
“Look, either we cut it out, or you have a new, unusual hat until we get back to Canterlot.”
Twilight whined, but there was only one possible choice. She bit back whatever angry comment she was about to make, and laid her head down on the stones.
“Fine,” she said. “Try not to do any more damage than you have to.”
Sly did her best, using her tiny skinning knife to carefully slice away the affected strands. She went as slow as possible, trying not to cut more of the beautiful mane than necessary. Twilight simmered quietly while she worked. It was uncomfortable for them both.
“So,” Sly said, desperate for something to break the silence. “Celestia can’t come here herself. Why not just send an army to get the Wind’s Eye?”
“Well, for one, we don’t have an army to spare.” Twilight scrunched her eyes shut as the skinning knife danced over them. She hadn’t flinched yet, to her credit. “They’re all trying to fight dragons.”
“Just a few warriors, then,” Sly said. “Like those guards back at the palace. They seemed pretty tough.” Twilight’s bangs were completely gone, revealing the root of her horn. It looked longer, exposed like that. No wonder some unicorns wore their manes that way.
“Think about it,” Twilight said. “You’d be sending them to retrieve an incredibly powerful magical item that grants wishes. She could only send someone she absolutely trusted. This had to be kept as quiet as possible.”
“Well, that explains why you’re here. She trusts you. But why the hell am I...” Sly trailed off. The knife froze as her thoughts caught up with her.
As quiet as possible. A trusted student. A thief, by her very nature quiet, and bound by magic to aid the student. A thief desperate to prove herself by completing a quest.
“Sly?” Twilight asked, very quietly. Her eyes were open and focused on the knife.
Celestia planned this. She planned everything. She doesn’t think I’m the Dragonborn. She doesn’t care.
“Sly, I think my mane is fine now.”
She’s using me. She’s using us. 
“Why don’t you put away the knife?” Twilight’s voice had a nervous edge to it.
Sly did not put away the knife. She started cutting with it again, carefully slicing away the tangled, ruined bits of mane. As strands of the webbing came free, she floated them into the fire, where they burned brightly for a moment before vanishing.
“Twilight,” she said, very calmly. “Do you trust Celestia?”
Twilight took her time in answering. More and more of her mane vanished into the fire. “You have to remember,” she finally said. “Her concern isn’t just with herself, or her friends, or even her kingdom. The fate of the entire world may rest on this war. She can’t let her personal feelings for anypony keep her from doing whatever it takes to win.”
“Even if it means sending ponies to their deaths?” Sly carefully trimmed around Twilight’s ear. It flicked nervously as she brushed it with the blade’s handle.
Twilight appeared to think her answer through before responding. “I know that she loves me, Sly. I know that sending me here was one of the most painful decisions she’s ever made.” She seemed to relax as she spoke, the tense muscles in her shoulders and neck easing.
“But I also know it was an easy decision,” she continued. “Just as easy as it was for me to agree.” Her eyes closed again, no longer concerned with the knife.
Sly trimmed the last bit of ruined mane away. Little remained but a dark buzz of hair running up the top of her skull. She brushed a few strands of stray webbing away with her hoof, then floated the knife back into her saddlebags. Twilight opened her eyes and looked up expectantly.
“It’s just... it’s not fair. She’s supposed to love us and care for us. Sending you here... that’s not love.” Sly huffed and stomped her hoof for emphasis.
Twilight stared at her for a long time. The fire burned down, the ancient, dessicated wood vanishing quickly. They both ignored it.
“I wish you could know her like I do,” Twilight said. “Love is everything to her. If she thought giving her own life would let the rest of us live in safety, she would do it in an instant. But she can’t, and it breaks her heart.”
“Well, at least she could be honest!”
Twilight shrugged. “She was as honest with you as I was. Do you think I’m dishonest?” When Sly didn’t answer, she let out a quiet chuckle and continued. “Now come on, let’s get some rest. There’s at least one more guardian to get through, and I’m exhausted.” She gave the door at the far end of the hallway a glance, then settled her head down on her crossed hooves.
Sly wanted to argue. She wanted to stomp and snort and cause a ruckus. Instead she let out a quiet breath, and lay down beside Twilight. After a time the other mare’s slow, even breaths lulled her to sleep.
Not fair.



		
Sly awoke with a start. The fire had died down to embers, but still cast enough light to see by in the corridor. Beside her, Twilight was sitting bolt upright, drenched in sweat, almost panting.
She looked around. The corridor was still empty. The doors were still closed. Twilight’s breathing started to slow back to a more sedate pace as Sly turned to her.
“You okay?”
“Yes, sorry,” she said. “Just a bad dream.”
Right. “You want to talk about it?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just... fine.”
That seemed unlikely. “Well, good night then.” Sly put her head back on her forelegs, letting her eyes drift shut.
A gulp in the darkness. “Yes. Good night.” There was a quiet rustle as Twilight laid back down as well.
Silence. Sly waited.
The blanket shifted beside her, and a warm body pressed up against her side. “Sly,” came a tentative voice. “Is it okay if...”
“Of course, Twilight.”
There was a relieved sigh. Sly felt it as much as she heard it.
“Thank you... good night.”
“Good night.”
Well, maybe a little fair.



		
Footnote: Level Up.  
New Perk: Agile Defender -- Increase armor rating for Light Armor by 20%
New Toy! Nightfall Bow -- 20% more damage to ponies and pony-based monsters (i.e. draugr, vamponies, etc)

{As always, thanks to my reviewers, especially Kurbz and Drakmire. Also, please comment and rate! It's how writers get feedback, and feedback is the only way we get better.}

> Part Four: Last Wish
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part 4: Last Wish

Sly had not intended to eavesdrop.
She was, nevertheless, perched upon the roof of her home, head hanging over the eaves to listen to the conversation below. To be fair, she had been on the roof for more than an hour, practicing skulking over the tiles without making a sound. It was only a coincidence that her parents started arguing when she was over their room.
They were arguing a lot more often, lately. Silly things. Adult things. Relatives, money, dragons. Sly glanced up at the sky for a moment.
“...but now there’s no town left to stay in. What do you think you’re proving by...” Her mother’s voice trailed off as she moved away from the window. She was a quiet arguer; her softest voice was the most dangerous to hear.
Not her father. His voice carried easily out of their room. “I’m proving that we will not be bullied!” he barked. “We have to prove that these things can be beaten.”
Her mother said something in reply, too quiet for Sly to hear. She leaned farther over the eaves.
“You can tell Iris where to stuff her offer!” Her father’s voice again. “I am not going to uproot this family just because you’re afraid!”
A door slammed — her father’s way of ending arguments. Sly sighed and pulled herself back onto the roof. Whatever offer her aunt had made was apparently not going to be accepted. Too bad. She loved visiting Aunt Iris in Fillydelphia.
The wind picked up, ruffling her mane and tail. She moved with the air, dancing gracefully along the rooftop to the other side of their house. The drop to the ground was about ten feet. She landed on her front hooves like a cat and rolled forward for no particular reason other than wanting to get a bit dirty. Mom hated when she got dirty.
Around her, the small town square was nearly empty. Only a few stalls remained, farmers selling the last of the day’s produce before packing their wares. She considered sneaking some fruits from the nearest stand, but the pony standing behind it had already seen her and was giving her a hard stare. She smiled innocently and trotted away. Maybe tomorrow.
Another burst of wind sent dry leaves flying into the air. She shivered a bit. Yesterday was summer. Tomorrow would be winter, but today was forever Autumn, ever on the cusp of the changing seasons. Time moved slowly for foals, and no less slowly for her. Although the season had only just begun, it was already colder than harvest time last year. The weather: one of the few topics her parents talked about in normal tones.
As usual, there was no one her age to play with. Stupid dragons. She wished, not for the first time, that they would go away. She wished she had friends again.



	
Sly was not in pain when she woke. She was not seriously injured. Nor did she require any healing potions. Things were looking up for once.
She stretched silently, pushing her forelegs out as far as they would go. Beside her, Twilight Sparkle mumbled something and pressed against her side. 
Yes, definitely looking up.
Rather than wake Twilight immediately, Sly floated a few more boards into the embers of the campfire. The dry wood smoldered and soon began to burn, filling the dark room with a comforting yellow light. If she looked only at the fire, she could almost forget they were deep beneath the earth on the threshold of yet another cursed tomb.
Twilight eventually stirred, roused by the warmth of the fire and the faint sound of the crackling wood. She groaned quietly and pressed a hoof against her forehead. A large bump had formed overnight where she had struck the wall. It was big enough to be uncomfortable, but not serious enough to warrant a healing potion. Not that they had any.
“Good morning. Feel any better?” Sly asked.
“A little,” Twilight said. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee hidden in those bags?”
“Sorry, not my thing.”
Twilight muttered something under her breath. Sly only caught the word “prepared.”
“It’s not morning without coffee,” she grumbled. “For that matter, how do we know it’s morning? It could be sunset outside.”
Sly shrugged. “It feels like morning. That’s good enough for me.” She slipped out from beneath the blanket and stretched again, working out the kinks that invariably came from sleeping on a stone floor. Aside from a few stinging spots on her flank where Cianim’s venom had splashed her, she was completely untouched. Not bad, considering how close they had both been to becoming spider food.
Twilight folded the blanket and stuffed it back into the saddlebag, then stood with a slight wince. She gave her head a careful shake and turned abruptly to Sly.
“How does it look?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“My mane. How does it look?”
Sly bit her lip. Twilight’s bangs were gone, completely exposing her forehead and the base of her horn. Despite Sly’s best efforts to preserve as much of Twilight’s mane as possible, she’d had to shear off almost everything above the mare’s neck, leaving only a short ruff of dark purple hair running in a line up to the top of her skull. As fashion statements went, it was somewhat lacking, but there was probably a street gang somewhere in Canterlot that would love it.
“It’s fine,” she said. “A little short, but if you hadn’t asked me I probably wouldn’t even have noticed.” It was not the biggest lie she had ever told, but it was pretty close.
“Oh.” Twilight visibly perked up. “Well, that’s a relief. You had me worried last night.”
Sly let out a quiet breath. Now, just keep her away from a mirror until we get back to Canterlot. She put on her best smile, then helped Twilight repack their saddlebags. 
The metal door at the end of the cavern was the largest they had encountered in the tomb. Some abstract design, looking faintly like a pony’s skull, stared at them from its carved surface. Above it, as with the other doors, waited a plaque bearing odd, angular script.
“Three sons, right?” Sly asked. She kept her voice as low and quiet as possible.
“According to the histories, yes,” Twilight answered. She peered up at the plaque and began reading. “Theostre, first born. Theostre, exalted. Theostre, demon. Theostre, be bound here forever. Theostre, in...” Twilight stumbled, her eyes dancing across the plaque. “Sorry, some unusual words here. I have to guess what they mean. Uh... Theostre, in mind-forged niedl... hm, in mind-forged manacles be supplicant, amongst riches be impoverished, from greatness be cast down. Theostre, stand watch until sun and moon and stars cease to be, and in their ceasing forget at last your crimes, Theostre.”
They were both quiet for a while. Finally, Sly blurted, “What the hell does that mean?”
Twilight shrugged. “Presumably it was meaningful to whoever created this place. Aside from their names, there’s almost no surviving details about Curalmil’s sons. Just that they died fighting to claim his throne.”
Well, can’t be worse than the giant spiderpony, right? Sly placed a hoof against the door and was about to push when something small and oddly bright caught her eye. Leaning closer to the door, she saw a thin strip of paper, yellow with age, pasted across the seam in the double door. An intricate rune was drawn in black ink upon it. It wasn’t like any trap she had ever seen.
“Hey Twi, what’s this?” She stepped to the side to let the other mare get a closer look.
Twilight squinted at the paper slip. Her horn glowed, and a tiny spark arced across the gap to the rune, causing it to shine briefly with a faint purple light.
“It’s a conjuration rune,” she said. “Harmless, probably part of the binding originally placed on Theostre. Did the other doors have these?”
Sly shook her head. “No. I’d have noticed them breaking if there were.”
Twilight sighed. “Well, I guess we can ask Theostre about it.”
She’s joking. Please let her be joking. Sly gave Twilight a sidelong glance, then placed her hoof back on the door and pushed. The doors slowly swung open; the slip of paper tore in half as the doors parted, the black rune sparking and burning the paper into ash.
Twilight flinched.
Crap. Sly floated her sword out, holding it in front of them. The hallway beyond didn’t seem particularly threatening; it ran about twenty feet straight to another door, more modest than the first. Magelights bound to metal torches lit the corridor with a gentle white light.
“What? You said it was harmless.”
“Yes,” Twilight said. “Technically, I mean.”
Sly felt a cold chill start running up her spine. “Twilight...”
“It’s just a binding rune,” she added quickly. “It’s harmless in the same sense that your bow is harmless.”
Sly glanced over her shoulder at Nightfall. “Twilight, that bow has probably killed more ponies than we’ve met.”
“No no. It’s the arrows that ki—” Twilight stopped, frowning. “That hurt ponies. The bow itself is harmless.”
Sly resisted the urge to crack Twilight over the head with the bow to demonstrate its harmlessness. Instead she sighed and took a slow, careful step into the corridor. It was surprisingly well-tended, lacking the layers of dust, cobwebs and general air of neglect that permeated the rest of the tomb.
“So, what would you say is harmful?” she asked.
“Well, I didn’t think it would still be active after this long,” Twilight said, falling in behind Sly. “But it’s possible we just unbound Theostre.”
They paused at the second set of doors. Behind them, their campfire was a distant yellow flicker. “Why didn’t the other doors have bindings, then?” Sly asked. She put her sword away and levitated Nightfall in front of her. Four arrows left, she noted.
“I have no idea.” Twilight sounded genuinely baffled.
Sly took a deep breath, willing her body to calm. Aiming, even magically, was much easier when not shaking with adrenaline. She levitated an arrow onto the bowstring, aimed at the door, and drew it back.
“Pop it open, please?”
Twilight nodded, then focused on the door. A light purple glow surrounded the wood surface, and it swung smoothly open. Its hinges didn’t even squeak.
Sly lowered the bow, slowly letting back on the string. “Well, this place just keeps getting weirder,” she said.
The hall beyond the door appeared to be a museum. The stone walls were lined with displays of everything from animal hides to ancient banners, full sets of armor, crossed weapons and display tables bearing gems and smaller items. Large, arched doorways lined the hall, each apparently leading to another room of treasures.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Twilight whispered. She stepped carefully over to the nearest display, a table holding a series of faintly glowing gems, lined up from smallest to largest. They appeared to be some sort of blue quartz, except for the last, which was a smokey black.
“No. Most tombs are filled with draugr and skeletons, and if you’re lucky a bit of gold. This is like something from your palace.” Now that she thought about it, many of the displays were strikingly similar to the ones in Celestia’s library. Greed and caution warred within her as she approached another display.
“I guarantee you we don’t have any black soul gems in the palace,” Twilight said. Distaste was plainly written on her features as she looked at the display.
Most of the items on display appeared to be antiques. Valuable, probably, but not immediately useful. Sly made a mental note to pass back through the museum on the way out and grab as much of it as she could carry, but for the moment, she left the artifacts untouched. 
Oddly, it was Twilight who stopped by one of the cases, her eye caught by something inside. “Is that real?” she wondered aloud, breathless.
Sly tiptoed over to see what had snagged her attention. The glass case held a simple silver necklace adorned by a small grey stone carved in the shape of a crescent. It didn’t strike her as very expensive. Still, if Twilight was interested...
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a very rare amulet.” Twilight glanced at the simple lock on the case, then blushed slightly. “Do you think you could, you know...” She made a vague motion with her hoof.
Sly managed not to snicker. The moment was too good to spoil. Instead she levitated one of her lockpicks into the latch and easily disengaged the mechanism. The case clicked, and she lifted the top with her hoof.
Twilight reached a hoof out to the necklace, then stopped. She put her hoof back down and bit her lip.
“What?” Sly asked. “It’s not trapped.”
“It’s just... I don’t want to steal anything.”
Seriously? Sly sighed. “Twilight, it’s not stealing if it’s for a good cause.”
That was all the justification Twilight needed. “Well, if you say so,” she said. The necklace glowed and lifted out of the case, then settled over Twilight’s head, coming to rest with the stone against her breast. It looked nice on her. Beautiful, really.
“So, what is it?”
“It’s a lunar medallion.” Twilight tapped the gemstone crescent with her hoof. “It makes it easier to use warding spells.” She noticed Sly’s blank look, and added, “Like my shield.”
“Ah. Would you say it’s expensive?”
“Priceless, actually, though I suppose you could find somepony to—” She stopped and scowled at Sly, who did her best to look innocent.
The hall ended in an open, arched doorway, beyond which lay a circular room, empty except for a shallow pool of water in the center. In the middle of the pool, an oval mirror floated a few inches above a small marble pedestal. Nothing appeared to be holding it up, Sly noticed with some unease. Across the room, a closed door presumably led deeper into the museum.
“I’m going to be asking this a lot in here,” Sly said, “but what is that?”
“A scrying device of some sort,” Twilight said. She carefully stepped into the ankle-deep pool and stood before the mirror. “Show me Princess Celestia,” she said to it in a clear, even voice. The mirror’s surface fogged, then cleared, revealing an image of the princess atop her throne, apparently listening to a courtier’s plea before her court.
“Well, at least we know it’s daytime,” Sly said.
“Not necessarily,” Twilight said over her shoulder. She turned back to the mirror and spoke again, “Show me Princess Celestia as she appears at this moment.” The mirror fogged again, and when it cleared, the princess was sleeping on a huge bed, barely visible behind gauzy curtains.
Twilight grinned. This was clearly her element. “Mirrors like this can be tricky. You have to ask the right question.” She cleared her throat and addressed it again. “Show me the Wind’s Eye.”
The mirror fogged, but when it cleared, it showed only her reflection. Twilight frowned. “Show me Theostre,” she said to it. The mirror fogged and cleared again, the same as before. She scowled.
“Show me Rarity,” she said. The mirror showed a fetching white unicorn seated at a table, preparing to eat a meal. Twilight hummed quietly.
Who the hell is Rarity? Sly wondered. She was about to ask when Twilight spoke.
“There must be limits to what it can show,” she said. “It might be limited to what the viewer is already familiar with.”
“And the Wind’s Eye?” Sly asked.
Twilight shrugged. She gave the mirror another look, then turned to Sly with a frown. “Seriously? It looks fine?”
Huh? Oh, right, the mane. Sly put on her best smile. “I think it looks fine,” she said.
Twilight rolled her eyes. She didn’t seem too upset by the obvious lie, at least. Maybe fashion wasn’t her thing. Or maybe the head injury was worse than Sly realized. Something to consider. Whichever it was, Twilight hopped out of the pool without comment, pausing only to flick some of the water on her hooves at Sly as she passed. One of the droplets struck Sly on the snout, then ran down her lips. It tasted old and dusty. How water managed to taste dusty was another mystery she filed away for later.
There was nothing special about the door on the far side of the pool. It was constructed of plain wood, dry but otherwise undamaged by the passage of time. Compared to the others they had already passed, it seemed out of place in its normalcy. No obvious traps. No signs foretelling the doom of anypony foolish enough to pass through. Just wood, hinges and a handle.
A faint feeling of unease began to build in Sly’s gut.
“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked. She kept her voice quiet, apparently picking up on Sly’s nerves.
“Probably nothing,” Sly mumbled. She gave it another, more thorough look. Still no traps. “Yeah... nothing. Open it?” She raised the bow in front of her and stood back.
Twilight glanced between Sly and the door, then shrugged and backed off to the side. Her horn glowed, and the door swung slowly toward her, revealing the dim room beyond. They waited a moment, and when the world didn’t end, stepped through together.
It appeared to be a library of some sort. Large bookshelves ringed the wide room, lit by magelights spaced evenly around the perimeter. More books than Sly thought had existed stuffed the shelves, sharing space with odd metal statuettes, bookends and various other expensive-looking artifacts.
But the focus of the room was the object sitting atop a pedestal in its very center. A glass globe, mottled with green and blue and about the size of a foal, slowly turned upon a thick brass rod. A few feet out from the globe, a small silver ball spun in a slow circle, glowing with its own gentle light. Further out, a tiny, brilliant star, shining like the sun, orbited more quickly. It was almost too bright to look at directly, and cast shifting shadows around the room.
“Twilight?” Sly asked, staring at the spinning relic. Her own voice sounded distant, subdued, as though the walls were made of cotton rather than stone. The air felt thick and sluggish against her face.
“It’s... a model solar system,” Twilight said. She took a step closer to the center, her eyes fixated on the device. “Magical, I think,” she added, less than helpfully. It was good to know her powers of perception were undamaged by the blow to her head.
Sly stepped up beside her, squinting against the glare from the miniature sun. The floor felt odd beneath her hooves, almost as though something were muffling the sound of her hooves. She tapped the stone flagstones curiously, managing to produce only the faintest of taps. The thick air grew even heavier, like the most humid day of summer, but still smelled as dry and stale as the rest of the tomb. 
Weirder and weirder. She opened her mouth to say so to Twilight when a shadow, perched on a throne on the far side of the room, moved.
Sly raised the bow, relying entirely on reflex. The arrow was set and drawn even as Twilight turned to her, a surprised look beginning to appear on her face. Time seemed to slow as she sighted down the arrow and released the string.
The arrow sped across the library, but rather than planting itself firmly in the shadowy figure, it began to slow, as though flying through molasses. It crawled through the air, passing just a few feet to the side of the model, where it finally came to a stop.
Almost a stop. Sly could see it slowly inching its way forward, still pointed forward. The feathers on the arrow’s shaft drifted minutely in the frozen air. Shadows shifted over it as the tiny sun continued its orbit around the glass globe.
“What the...” she muttered, staring in confusion at the floating arrow. Even the figure across the room was forgotten in the moment. Her grip on Nightfall relaxed and the bow sank to the ground, the hum of its vibrating string going quiet as it touched the floor.
“A time well,” Twilight said, her eyes wide and as full of wonder as her voice. She took another, hesitant step toward the sculpture.
“I wouldn’t go any closer, if I were you,” a voice said. The words were slurred, almost unintelligible, and seemed to come from their sides, like a pair of echoes arguing with each other. The shadow stood, and the light of the tiny sun finally revealed the speaker.
He had been a pony once, and still wore the form of one. Dry, bleached skin stretched tight across his face like the head of a drum, revealing the sharp angles of his skull. Teeth, long and yellow with age, peeked out from beneath rotting lips. His mane was a ragged tuft of dirty hair dangling from the hood of his robe. Only his eyes, bright and shining stars in the shadows of his hood, gave any hint to the life that still burned within his breast.
For a pony, he was a terrible, imposing figure. The worst kind of draugr, one still awake and alive with intelligence and cunning. Compared to Ageund and Cianim, however, he barely seemed to qualify as a menace. Unarmed, unarmored, unthreatening. They regarded him warily as he left the throne and began to circle around the room, always keeping his distance from the glass relic at its center.
Sly snapped the bow back up, though she held her fire for the moment. No point in wasting another arrow. Instead she stepped forward, putting herself between him and Twilight. 
“Watch your step.” His mouth moved, but out of time with his words. Too fast or too slow, Sly couldn’t decide which. After a moment’s puzzlement, his meaning hit her, and she gave a quick glance down at the floor.
Her hoof was nearly on a blue line that had been drawn on the ground, forming a circle perhaps thirty feet across, centered around the glass globe. Two more concentric circles were drawn closer: a yellow ring halfway to the globe, and a red ring just a few feet across. Her arrow still hung in the air, just above the red line. It might have moved an inch or so from when she had last looked several seconds before.
“Be thankful for them. They took ages to draw. Years, even,” the draugr said. His voice was clearer, sharper, more in time with his lips as he moved around the room toward them.
“Stay back,” Sly warned, floating an arrow from her quiver. She nocked it on the string, but didn’t draw just yet.
A dry, gravelly rumble filled the room. His robes shook, and after a moment, they realized he was laughing.
“Oh, you are a feisty one,” he said. “How wonderful it is to be in the presence of life again.” His rasping voice made her skin crawl. “And your friend there is correct: it is a time well. The most powerful ever crafted, in fact.”
Twilight stepped up beside her. She shook her head, as though trying to flick her mane out of her eyes, before realizing there was nothing left but a buzz of hair. A slight scowl appeared briefly on her face, forced away as she spoke. “Theostre, I presume?”
He stopped several pony lengths away, his eyes flicking between them and Sly’s bow. After several moments of consideration, he turned his gaze fully to Twilight, dismissing Sly as inconsequential. An irrational part of her was offended, and her grip on the bow tightened. Stealth was good and all, but being deliberately ignored stung.
“Yes. Unlike my brothers, I remember who I was,” he said. His words were perfectly clear and in time with his lips. “Thank you for defeating them, by the way. Two less hassles for me to deal with.”
Hassles? Sly squinted at him. Neither of the other two brothers would have even the slightest difficulty wiping the floor with this pony. He didn’t appear stronger than any other draugr, any other dessicated corpse cursed to walk the halls of its tomb for eternity. No, those were words he should not be using. Which made her very, very wary.
This is a trap, isn’t it? Sly swallowed nervously. He was far too confident for a pony with an arrow pointed at his breast. She took a careful step back and away from the blue circle.
Twilight didn’t pick up on Sly’s caution. “Then you must know why we are here,” she said. “We have no quarrel with you. If you will allow us to pass and claim the Wind’s Eye we will leave you in peace.”
He laughed again, filling the room with the same sandy rasp as before. A glacial chill wafted from his body, setting the hairs in Sly’s coat on end.
“Well, that is very kind,” he said. “However, I’m afraid I have plans for the Vindauga that do not involve you, beyond the minor point of unsealing my father’s crypt for me. Alas, my dear sister was very careful when interring me here.” The way he spat the word “sister” made it clear she was anything but dear to him.
Sister? Sly gave Twilight a quick glance. No luck. She seemed just as confused by the revelation. 
Twilight frowned, somehow managing to look serious despite her absurd mane cut. “Princess Celestia sent us to retrieve the Eye,” she said. “As sovereign, it is her right to claim it for the crown. You will let us pass and not interfere when we depart.”
He tilted his head, the hood of his cloak falling slightly to the side to reveal more of his emaciated form. Patches of dry skin hung from his neck in tatters, the same pale, dusty hue as his face. “You don’t understand, do you?” he said. “You’re foals, ordering a dragon to surrender his horde. You don’t just fail to comprehend, you lack the context to even realize the depths of your own ignorance. Celestia has no writ here.” Anger deepened his voice, the sparks in his eyes flashing like sunlight on water. “This is my realm, not hers, and certainly not yours,” he growled.
Sly drew the arrow back. Still he ignored her, his eyes locked on Twilight. At that range, Nightfall would probably take his head off, but he seemed as concerned with her as the ocean with a drop of rain. A tiny worm of fear, her old despised friend, began crawling around her heart.
“Twilight,” she said softly, trying to get the other mare’s attention. No luck. She glanced quickly around the room for a place to hide. Even less luck.
“You must have seen the dragons,” Twilight said. She took a step toward Theostre. “They’ve returned, some say to end the world. The princess is doing everything she can to stop them but it’s not enough. The jewel might be enough to turn the tide.”
He snorted. “I care not for the dragons. They were defeated before. Eventually a Dragonborn will appear and we can sacrifice him for another thousand years of peace.”
Whoa. Whoawhoawhoawhoa... whoa. Sly’s eyes went wide. Theostre kept talking, making grand gestures with his hooves, but she heard none of it. His last words replayed in her head. Sacrifice? What the hell does that mean? She had never actually bothered to research how the last Dragonborn had defeated the dragons, all those centuries ago. That was history, and history was boring. All that had mattered was that she was the Dragonborn, that she was special, that she deserved adoration and riches.
But sacrifice? That wasn’t what she signed up for. Come to think of it, her claims had never garnered any riches or adoration, just suicidal quests into cursed tombs fighting centuries-old abominations. A change in careers might be in order after they returned to Canterlot, she decided.
Twilight was talking now and sounded angrier than ever. Sly shook her head to clear it and tuned back into their argument.
“We will not open the crypt for you,” Twilight shouted, stomping a hoof for emphasis. “Frankly I’m beginning to understand why you were sealed down here in the first place. Now, for the last time, stand aside and let us pass!”
That was the sound of a fight starting, and it was better to get the first blow in than the second. Sly sighted down the arrow at Theostre’s neck and released the string. Unlike her first arrow, still crawling through the air near the globe, the second flew perfectly, zipping past Twilight’s ear and plunging deep into the draugr’s neck. His head snapped back with an audible crack, and a moment later, he collapsed in a dusty heap.
Twilight stared in shock at the body, then rounded on Sly. “You... you shot him!” she shouted.
Sly shrugged. “Look, we both know he wasn’t going to let us go with the jewel. Would you rather have fought him fairly?”
Twilight spluttered and was about to speak when a quiet rattle drew their attention. She spun around in time to see Theostre climbing back to his feet, the fletchings of Sly’s arrow still sticking out of his neck just under his jaw. He glared at them both.
“We could have done this simply,” he said. Despite the arrow in his voice box, he didn’t seem to have any trouble speaking. “I would have been happy to let you live. You could have joined me, even! With the Vindauga we would have been powerful enough to cast down Celestia and rule in her place.
“But now we have to do it the hard way,” he continued. “There are some exceptionally creative implements of torture in here. I’m sure they will prove persuasive enough for one of you.”
That was less than encouraging. Sly did the only thing that came to mind — she shot him again.
The arrow staggered him, though far less than the one in his neck. He glanced down at the shaft protruding from his chest, then gave her an annoyed look. She was about to shoot him with her final arrow when he broke into laughter.
“You still don’t understand, do you?” he wheezed. “You think you can kill me? Little pony, I am immortal. That was my wish.”
Ohhh... wish. Hm. Suddenly arrows seemed a lot less effective. She glanced at Twilight, but the other mare was staring at Theostre in open-mouthed shock. No help there.
Theostre didn’t wait for them to recover. He raised his hoof into the air and began chanting in a strange, guttural tongue that hurt Sly’s ears to hear. An orange nimbus glowed around his hoof as he traced a small pattern in the air that ended with a sharp gesture. The glow erupted in a blinding flash as his hoof touched the floor, and for a moment, all light in the room was consumed in the brilliant blue glare of a portal opening before them. Just as quickly, the glare vanished, and the room fell into darkness.
Sly blinked her watering eyes, momentarily blinded by the flash. She heard Twilight stumbling beside her, and felt a terrible, frigid breeze against her face. Slowly, far too slowly, her eyes readjusted to the darkness, and the monstrous form before them came into view.
The frost atronach was tall for its kind, easily the largest she had ever seen. A statue carved from blocks of cloudy blue ice, it towered over the three ponies, its snowy mane brushing against the stone ceiling high above their heads. A ring of frost, growing wider with each passing second, appeared on the floor around its hooves. What passed for its breath chilled her to the bone.
“But... that’s impossible!” Twilight said. She backed away from the atronach, nearly falling when she bumped into Sly. “You’re an earth pony!”
Theostre sighed. “Yes, yes. Believe me, I’ve heard it all before. Forbidden magic, abomination, et cetera, et cetera.” He turned and looked up at the atronach. “Kill the blue one.”
That would be her. Reflexes honed from dozens of battles against draugr and worse saved her life. She leapt to the side in a desperate dive, barely clearing the atronach’s massive hoof as it smashed the floor where she had been standing. The construct snorted at her, bathing her in air so cold her skin burned. Her pale blue coat turned white with frost.
“Sly!” Twilight shouted. She barely avoided the construct’s attack herself. She backed away and lowered her horn at the elemental. A tiny red ember built at the tip of her horn, and she scrunched her eyes closed against the coming fireball.
It never came. Before she could release the spell a blast of lightning struck her in the side, knocking her to the floor and scoring a dark line on her coat. She howled in pain, the ember evaporating. 
“No, little pony,” Theostre said. “I am your opponent. It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper mage’s duel."
Immortal and crazy. That’s great. Sly turned and ran from the construct, following the outside edge of the room, always staying on the safe side of the blue circle. With any luck the construct would try to walk directly toward her and get stuck in the time well, or whatever it was. Her first arrow was still floating near the relic, having barely moved during their argument with Theostre. Across the room, another bolt of lightning struck at Twilight, only to vanish against a glowing shield that appeared around the mare.
The atronach didn’t fall for her trap. It strode around the edge of the room at a walking pace, but its huge strides ate up the distance between them with ease. Worse, there was no where to run. If she kept circling around the room she would bump back into Theostre, who was probably more than capable of squishing her like a bug, even as he dueled with Twilight.
The atronach had to die. She waited for it to draw a bit closer, then launched her final arrow at its huge foreleg. The steel broadhead smashed through the solid ice without even slowing down, shattering the limb and sending the entire construct crashing to the floor. It grunted, washing her with another blast of frozen air, and struggled to stand on its remaining legs.
She didn’t give it a chance. Her sword flicked off her back and into the air, sliding alongside her as she charged the atronach. A primitive part of her mind demanded that she shout out a battle cry, but too many years of sneaking had destroyed whatever instincts she may have had. Instead she let out an embarrassing squeak, hopefully unheard by Twilight or Theostre, and launched herself at the construct.
Its enormous head, vaguely shaped like a pony’s, split in two as it opened its jaws to welcome her. She slid around its bite with a dancer’s grace, the sword lashing out under her magical command to stab at its neck as she passed. Chunks of ice the size of her hoof broke away from her strike to land on the ground with a clatter. She jumped over a boulder of ice broken from its leg and rolled beneath its belly, dragging her sword along its body the entire way. More ice fell to the floor.
The room shook as Twilight and Theostre continued their duel on the far side of the room. Oddly muffled booms and crashes reached her, echoing out of time with the flashes that caused them. A low, droning rumble began to build as the shock waves from Twilight’s fireballs became trapped around the glass relic and slowly bled out the other side. Her first arrow, tiny and insignificant amidst the chaos, trembled slightly in the air, continuing on its slow, inexorable path across the room.
Sly gave the duel only the briefest moment of attention before turning back to the frost atronach. The construct was badly damaged, barely able to stand on its three remaining legs. Nevertheless, it turned to her with the single-minded focus of an automaton and reared onto its hind legs, ready to crush her with a single stomp.
She avoided the blow easily, rolling to the side and slashing with her sword at the exposed leg. Its knee cracked, and with a deafening crunch the construct crashed to the floor. A ferocious grin stretched across her face as she stood, and with a real, honest-to-Celestia battle cry she drove her sword hilt-deep into its chest.
Take that! she exulted. A tremendous euphoria crested and washed over her as the atronach spasmed and fell still.
But not dead. Even as she pulled the sword from its side a brilliant blue light flashed within its icy form. She had enough time for a puzzled blink before the construct exploded, blasting her off her hooves and pelting her with shards of ice.
She landed fluidly, rolling instantly to her hooves. Nothing appeared broken, and only a few of the shards had struck exposed skin, the rest easily deflected by her armor. Everything seemed fine. Fine and quiet. Very quiet.
Behind her, the flashes from the mages’ duel were coming extraordinarily fast. There was almost no time between the attacks, and as she turned she beheld one of the oddest sights in her short career as an adventurer.
Twilight and Theostre still fought, but at remarkable speed. They flashed around the room like hummingbirds darting from flower to flower, pausing for split seconds to cast spells that flared and died almost too quick for her to see. Everything was moving too fast. Impossibly fast.
Or... she glanced down at the floor. The blue line was several feet away. Her left foreleg was planted nearly atop the yellow line. The glass model spun, rapidly now, just a dozen feet away.
Or she was moving much, much slower.
She spun away from the relic and dove for the blue line. Time felt normal to her -- her wounds still ached, her reactions were as snappy as before. Only the world around her gave any hint that something was wrong. With a final leap she soared over the blue line, landing on her hooves. A few seconds had passed since the atronach burst, she thought.
She was wrong. Theostre stood before her, waiting, as she landed. She hadn’t even seen him move.
“Welcome back,” he said, looking down at her. “I was wondering how long it would take you to escape. Just a few minutes, it turns out. Not bad for your first time.”
If he had won the duel with Twilight, it wasn’t by much. His robes had been blasted apart at some point, exposing his charred, riven hide. One of his forelegs was simply gone, the splintered end of a bone sticking out from a draping of ruined flesh. As she watched, though, the muscles and tissues around the wound began to knit themselves back together, slowly recreating his missing limb.
Sly stumbled back, away from the draugr, and gave the room a quick, desperate glance. Twilight lay across from them, still and blackened from Theostre’s assault. Smoke rose from her charred coat. Sly’s heart nearly stopped at the sight. Oh no no nonono...
Theostre noticed her panic, and chuckled. “Don’t worry about your friend. A bit of restorative magic and she’ll be fine. In fact, she’ll even make a wonderful consort for me, after I replace Celestia.” He took a careful step forward. His missing limb was almost completely regenerated, lacking only a hoof.
“Stay back!” she shouted. Her voice nearly broke; she was out of arrows and her sword was nowhere to be seen. She cast about desperately for anything that could be used as a weapon. If he could defeat Twilight, what chance did she have? 
Not much of one, he apparently decided. He followed her around the room as she backed away, and spoke almost conversationally.
“You can escape, you know,” he said. “Just run across the room to the door, and be sure to touch the time well on your way. It will only feel like a few seconds to you. For us, however...” he trailed off, his head tilting in thought. “Well, it’s hard to say, but probably thousands of years will pass.”
That didn’t sound like a very good deal. She stumbled backwards, tripping over a piece of ice from the broken atronach and landing hard on her rump. Nothing remotely resembling a weapon was at hand: her sword was buried in the icy rubble that remained of the atronach, two of her arrows were still in Theostre, and the third was nowhere to be seen. Only the first arrow, slowly crawling through the air as it passed the relic, was remotely reachable. Crawling, inching its way along, no longer frozen in place.
It was starting to emerge from the well.
Sly looked behind her. The throne, where Theostre had been sitting when they entered, was just a few feet away. She scrambled toward it and stood, bracing her hooves against its seat for support.
“Hm, no, I’m afraid that’s mine,” Theostre said behind her. She spun, in time to see his horn flash with a dark purple light. Black tendrils rose from the ground, snaking their way along her body to her throat. They brushed against her neck, and before she could jerk away constricted like a noose.
Wait... horn? Between futile gasps for breath, she focused her watering eyes on his forehead, barely visible beneath the remains of his hood. A black soul gem, carved in the shape of a unicorn’s horn, had been driven through his skull, and flickered with a dark internal light. Forbidden magic, indeed.
His horn glowed again, and the tendrils lifted her into the air by her neck. She tried to pry them off, but they were like iron bands. Slippery as eels, stronger than a giant. Her vision began to go black around the edges.
“What’s this?” he said. He leaned closer, a puzzled look on his decaying face as he inspected her. “There’s more to your soul than meets the eye. What are you hiding in there, little pony?”
She tried to speak, to beg. Anything to buy some time. More time... The thought was the last thing in her head as the darkness closed on her vision.
And then suddenly lifted as the tendrils around her neck evaporated, dropping her on the floor. Theostre grunted, an odd, liquid sound that shouldn’t have come from a pony. She gasped in a ragged breath and looked up at his tottering form.
The tip of her arrow protruded from his forehead, just below the artificial horn. Just in time, it had finally crossed the room.
Theostre’s eyes rolled up, staring at the gore-slicked barb sticking from his skull. Blood trickled down his face to splatter on the floor. He shook and fell forward onto his knees, a ragged gasp bursting from his mouth.
Perhaps he would have recovered in time. He was immortal, after all, and had already taken two arrows that would’ve killed a normal pony, not to mention all of Twilight’s punishment. Yes, given enough time, he would probably recover. Fortunately for him, an eternity was near at hand.
Sly drew in a breath and held it in her lungs. The familiar spark of her Thu’um ignited the air, and her voice exploded as she shouted in his face. “FUS!”
The word knocked him off his hooves and shoved him across the floor. Over the blue line, over the yellow line, over the red line. Slower and slower he slid across the floor, his expression shocked, unchanging, uncomprehending, until he finally slowed to a stop at the foot of the time well. The tatters that remained of his robe hung in the air around him like birds frozen in the air. An insect, trapped forever in amber.
Sly panted, her throat raw and painful from shouting so soon after being throttled. Flecks of blood decorated the floor as she coughed. For several long moments, she wheezed, her windpipe narrower than a piece of straw. Her vision swam again, and she rested her forehead against the floor.
Twilight...
She ignored the pain, forcing herself to her hooves. Twilight still lay unmoving across the room. She trudged toward the fallen mare, careful to stay on the far side of the blue line.
Hopefully Theostre had kept some healing potions in his little museum.



	
Theostre had more than just a few potions. An entire room off the main corridor was dedicated to alchemical arts, and he stocked enough vials, flasks and elixirs for an apothecary. None were labelled, but the familiar blood red of healing potions caught her eye the moment she entered. She stuffed as many as she could fit into her saddlebags and stumbled back to the library and Twilight Sparkle.
The library stank of smoke and ozone, all that remained of the arcane duel between the two mages. A blueish haze filled the air and stung her eyes. Across the room, the frost atronach had already vanished, its icy corpse evaporated back into Oblivion. Her sword rested on the floor where the atronach had fallen. Twilight lay on the floor, unmoving.
Sly stopped.
What? Go help her, you fool! she berated herself. Every moment wasted was a moment Twilight might pass beyond saving. Move. Dammit, move!
But a dissident part of her mind was terrified. What if she was already dead? Worse, what if her wounds were so gruesome that not even an ocean of healing potions could save her? The horrible image of Twilight’s broken corpse filled her mind. Her legs froze, and she looked anywhere but at her friend.
Coward! She saved your life, and this is how you repay her?
She cringed, a hot well of shame rising like bile in her throat. Her hoof lifted, and she took a tentative step toward Twilight. Then another.
Go! Go to her!
She raised her head enough to glimpse the mare and nearly vomited. A greasy black stain discolored the stone floor beneath Twilight, reeking of burnt meat and blood. Her purple coat was gone, a memory, blasted away by Theostre’s lightning or blackened beyond all color. A horrific burn stretched from her left shoulder down her side. The edges of the wound were ash. Sly let out a quiet, hopeless wail, and jerked away.
No! No! You will not fail her! She walked through boiling water for you, and you’re too squeamish to help her? You think you’re the Dragonborn, but you can’t do this one simple thing?
Not enough. She gave Twilight another glance, but couldn’t hold her gaze in place. Her vision went grey around the edges as she began to hyperventilate, her legs shaking so badly the glass potions rattled like chimes in her bags.
“I’m sorry,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Dragonborn? Fuck being Dragonborn. She’s not the Dragonborn but she still saved your life. Because she’s strong! She’s brave! She’s a better pony than you! Save her because she’s your friend!
Friend. What did it matter if she was the Dragonborn if she couldn’t save one life? If she couldn’t even try? She lifted her head and started walking again. One hoof, then another. Walking to her friend.
Sly kneeled and gently cradled Twilight’s head. Sightless eyes stared up at her, unblinking, unmoving. She floated a healing potion out of her bags, tore the stopper out with her teeth, and as gently as she could, poured the precious fluid into Twilight’s mouth. The crimson potion mixed with the blood leaking from Twilight’s lips, and after a while, she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.
She did the same with the second potion. And the third.
And then, for the second time in her life, Sly prayed.



	
Footnote: Level Up (Sly)  
New Perk: Steady Hoof — Zooming in with a bow slows time by 25%.

Footnote: Level Up (Twilight Sparkle)
New Perk: Apprentice Destruction — Cast Apprentice level Destruction spells for half magicka.
New Toy! Antique Lunar Medallion — Wards absorb 50% more damage but consume 50% more magicka.

{As always, thanks to my reviewers, especially Kurbz, Drakmire and Corejo. Also, please comment and rate! It's how writers get feedback, and feedback is the only way we get better.} 


Comments!

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V


> Part Five: Visions of the Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part 5: Visions of the Past

The dragon’s titanic form strode through the broken streets.
Smoke rose from the fires; rain fell from the heavens. Together they formed an ashen, concealing pall, a funeral shroud for the dozens of ponies who stayed and fought the beast. It had come with the sunset, its huge wings blotting out the twilight sky. Always before it had killed one or two, and then left, satisfied with its monthly quota of blood. Tonight it had not.
The night, the dragon, the storm. All arrived on the same wings, descending on the town and the foolish, stubborn, brave ponies who refused to flee. In a few short minutes, her home, her family and her life were gone.
She hid, for hiding was all she knew. The years of playing, practicing, pretending she was a thief and an explorer led to this one moment, lying in the ruins of her home, crushed between her mother’s cooling body and a charred, still-burning timber fallen from her roof, holding her breath, acrid smoke burning her eyes, soot and ash and blood painting her the colors of death.
A roar split the silence. The light of the flames grew as the dragon incinerated another home. Raindrops reflected the fires, a thousand rubies falling from the sable night.  She scrunched her eyes shut against their patter.
The dragon passed by their home again. She heard the whistling air, the bellows of its lungs, the pop and hiss of rain exploding into steam upon its jaws. The ground trembled with its steps.
It stopped.
Just feet away from her, so close the air vibrated in time with its heartbeat. Its soulless eyes, each the size of her head, gazed at the ruins of her home. Lingered on her mother, on her. She froze in imitation of the dead: unbreathing, unblinking, unmoving, unthinking. 
How long it stared at her, she could not say. The rain tapered off, the fires faded, and for the first time in her life, Sly prayed.
She prayed silently, to no god in particular. She prayed to anyone or anything that might have been listening. She prayed, and it stared, and the fires burned, and the rain fell, and the night endured.
Her heart nearly burst when it finally turned. It strode through the ruined streets, casually smashing the torn and fallen facades with its careless tail. The air resounded as its wings took it into the night, and silence returned to the town and its open graves.
She slowly came to her hooves, her body shaking. Fear and grief and confusion warred within her. She cradled her mother’s head, begging her to open her eyes and smile again.
Out into the night she stumbled. Into the dead town, the latest to fall to the plague. Another fading mark on the map: “Here there be dragons.” Numb, half-blind, half-dead, she stumbled. Around her, nothing else remained.
Nothing lived. Everything burned.




Sly drifted uneasily between sleeping and waking. The old dream, familiar and hated, faded away, its darkness replaced by the glare of the time well’s artificial sun. She slowly lifted her head from Twilight Sparkle’s neck, then pressed her ear against the mare’s chest, listening for the faint beat of life.
Still there. Fast, weak and thready, but still there. Breath rattled in fluid-filled lungs, but she still breathed; her heart still beat. Twilight still lived.
Sly floated another healing potion from her saddlebags. Sixth? Seventh? Who knew. She pulled the stopper off and poured it into Twilight’s slack mouth, silently willing its magic to work faster. The potions took time, and there was no point in administering another before this one could sink in.
A drop of the blood red potion ran down the outside of the flask. She licked at it greedily, imagining it healing her savaged throat. Of course it was not enough to mend even a paper cut, but she was too desperate to let even a single drop of relief go to waste. It tingled on her tongue, rich with the taste of fresh strawberries and grass, but faded away before soothing any of her pains.
Any of the potions in her bags would have healed her throat, she knew, but they were for Twilight. A sore throat never killed anypony, but there was no telling how deep Twilight’s wounds went. The burns on her skin were merely the visible injuries — for all Sly knew, half of Twilight’s insides might have been cooked.
The terrible scorch on Twilight’s shoulder and side had already healed, the charred flesh replaced by shining pink skin flush with blood. Her coat would take some time to regrow where it had been seared away, but most of her body still had a short layer of hair beneath the blackened tips. Sly couldn’t help but giggle. Twilight was once again exploring the margins of fashion.
She carefully nosed the side of Twilight’s head, tilting it into a more natural position. Her breathing sounded easier, relaxed and even. Sly waited a while to see if the potion would have any more effect, then fed her another. Twilight mumbled something as the potion worked its magic, and shifted positions on her own. She slipped into a natural sleep, rather than the near-death in which Sly had found her.
Her lungs were working, a sign she was out of the woods. Sly realized she was shaking, the emotional toll of nearly losing her friend finally catching up with her. She scooted away, so as not to disturb Twilight, and let the shakes run their course.
One potion wouldn’t be missed. Certainly not a small one. She floated the smallest vial out of her saddlebags, tore off the gold foil covering its spout and swallowed the murky fluid in a single gulp. The choking constriction in her throat eased immediately, and the potion’s warmth spread out from her heart to her sore limbs, easing away her hurts. Better than sex, indeed.
She pushed that thought out of her mind as she curled up against Twilight once more. Eventually, the librarian’s slow, even, healthy breaths lulled her back to sleep.


***

The library reeked of smoke and ozone, all that remained of the arcane duel between the two mages. A blueish haze filled the air and stung her eyes. Across the room, the frost atronach had already vanished, its icy corpse evaporated back into Oblivion. Her sword rested on the floor where the atronach fell. Twilight lay on the floor, unmoving.
Sly reached down to touch the fallen mare. The purple mane, long and luxurious, broke off in her hoof. The horrific burn festered and boiled as she watched. Twilight’s eyes opened, and she began to scream. 
The potions wouldn’t open — the stoppers had fused to the glass. Desperate, Sly smashed their necks against the stone floor, stomped on them, but they refused to break. She begged Twilight to stop screaming. The wounds tore open further, and the trickle of blood became a river. Her skin sloughed away as Sly tried to hold her. Everything was red.
Too much. Sly stumbled to her hooves, turned, and ran.


***

Sly jerked awake with a gasp. The dream vanished like mist, leaving her frightened and confused. All that remained was the image of Twilight, burned and broken, and the terrible sound of her screams. Sweat drenched her coat, despite the relative chill of the room.
She looked down. Twilight was awake and staring at her. 
Relief washed over her like a wave. The tension that had been knotting her muscles vanished, and she slumped slightly. She let out a ragged breath and smiled.
“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” she said.
Twilight raised a singed eyebrow.
She coughed. “Awake, I mean. And healthy. Healthier.”
Twilight glanced at the patch of skin covering half her side. It was no longer flushed, more the color of normal flesh than a fresh scar. She snorted quietly, then turned back to Sly.
“So I see. What about you? You looked a little...” She paused for a moment. “Startled.”
“Oh, uh, just a dream. I’ve already forgotten it,” Sly lied. She forced a smile back onto her face.
“Mhm.” Twilight gave her a doubting look, then shook her head slightly. With a quiet grunt, she pushed herself up onto her hooves, swaying slightly before catching her balance. She took a few deep, careful breaths, then looked around the library. Her gaze finally came to a stop on Theostre’s frozen form next to the time well.
“Well, that’s one solution,” she finally said. “How’d you manage that?”
“Good timing?” She winced at Twilight’s flat look. “He was, uh, distracted.”
Twilight glanced back at him. Her eyes lingered on his head and the arrow transecting it. A few drops of blood hung in the air below the wound, in the first stages of a long fall to the stone floor just feet away. His horn, the black soul gem driven through his forehead, had gone completely dark. Not even the faintest glimmer of light could be seen within.
“What will happen to him?” Sly asked. She stood, ignoring the quiet complaints of her muscles, stiff from the cold floor, and walked to the blue line circling the relic. The air felt thicker against her face as she approached it, the sound of her hoofsteps muffled against the stone.
Twilight walked up beside her. She carefully reached over the line with a foreleg, waved it around curiously, then pulled it back.
“I guess that’s a matter of perspective,” she said. “For him, it will be like nothing happened. I assume that arrow in his head won’t kill him, and in a few seconds he’ll stand back up and walk out of the time well. He might not even realize he’s in it.”
Lovely. The world was not yet rid of him. “How long will that take for us?”
Twilight peered closer at the relic, her face taking on the cute look she wore when thinking too hard about something. Sly found herself smiling. She must be feeling better.
“It looks like he’s still infalling, so presumably his relative time dilation hasn’t reached a maximum...” she trailed off, noticing Sly’s blank look.
“Smaller words?” Sly suggested.
Twilight rolled her eyes. “He hasn’t stopped moving toward the relic yet. Depending on how long he spends touching it, it could be a long time before he comes out.” She glanced again at his falling form, at the arrow in his head. “A very long time.”
“Weeks? Months?”
She shook her head. “Tens of thousands of years. Maybe hundreds of thousands. And that assumes this room doesn’t simply collapse on him at some point.”
Oh. Well, future generations could worry about him, then. Maybe we can put up a sign on our way out? It was something to think about. No rush, though.
“So, do you think he could have done it?” she asked. “Overthrown Celestia?”
Twilight didn’t answer immediately. She gave him one final look before turning away, back to their discarded saddlebags. Her books were strewn across the floor, resting where they had fallen when Theostre finally struck her down. Most were in varying degrees of ruin — shredded pages, broken spines, charred covers. Twilight gave them an anguished look, like they were her own foals, then began floating the more-or-less-intact ones back to her bags.
“No, Celestia’s not just a very powerful unicorn,” she said after picking up the last of the books. “She’s a goddess, a divine. She would have crushed him.” Still, she gave the time well a troubled glance.
“Good to know,” Sly said. “Hey, you want to move to one of those other rooms? He’s giving me the creeps.” Theostre’s unblinking eyes seemed to be staring at her, regardless of where she moved in the room. The scorched bloodstains on the floor weren’t doing much for her mood either.
Twilight nodded and trotted toward the entryway leading to the rest of the museum. She nearly stumbled when she passed the pile of empty healing potions Sly had poured into her while she slept.
“Did... were all those for me?” she asked quietly. Sly had to strain to hear her.
Lie? Tell the truth? Sly hedged. “It’s not as bad as it looked. Only some of them were for you.” It was technically correct: the best kind of correct.
“Oh... heh, had me worried for a moment. That’s a lot of potions!” Twilight smiled at her and continued through the entryway. 
Sly exhaled quietly. She waited until Twilight passed through the tall doorway, then gave the empty flasks a petulant little kick before following.




They set up camp in one of the museum’s side rooms, dedicated to jewelry and fine clothes. Thousands of precious gems, rings, necklaces and glass ornaments rested in cases or hung from delicate silver hooks. Another wall displayed dozens of ornate fans, formal saddles, and exquisite dresses and suits. Magelights hung from the arched ceiling at regular intervals, casting spotlights on particularly fantastic pieces. 
It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was going to make her rich. Sly’s jaw hung slack, her attention drifting to the pricier-looking treasures as Twilight Sparkle nattered about something or other. She nodded absently in time with Twilight’s voice, but otherwise completely ignored the mare.
After a few moments of silence she realized Twilight had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectantly. “You’re right, Twilight,” she said, her social reflexes kicking in spontaneously.
Twilight looked surprised. “Really? Well, I’m glad you agree, especially after earlier. I’m sure the Royal Historical Society will be happy to credit you for their discovery, though.”
Ah, her old nemesis, the Royal Historical Society. Her ears flicked back in annoyance, though she managed to keep a smile on her face. There was still plenty of time to change Twilight’s mind. Or smuggle the jewelry out, whichever happened to be easier. With any luck, Theostre kept a cart she could borrow somewhere in his museum.
She appraised the jewelry while Twilight created a magical campfire. Some of the pieces were almost magical in their beauty. A gold earring hung with an emerald carved in the shape of a flying pegasus. A shard of amber, nearly the size of her hoof, interred a brilliant iridescent wasp. A glass hummingbird sipped nectar from a crystal flower, so lifelike she almost expected it to fly away.
Twilight was being quiet again. Sly turned to see her lying next to the fire, her ears drooping and her lips pursed in thought. For once, Twilight didn’t look like she was about to scold somepony. Brooding was apparently one of her specialties.
“What’s wrong?” Sly asked. She trotted back to the fire and lay down near Twilight. Close to her, but not quite next to her. A carefully calculated distance.
“Something Theostre said. It’s been bothering me.”
Yeah, me too. Another Dragonborn would appear, Theostre had said, and they could sacrifice him for a thousand years of peace. She opened her mouth, about to ask what he had meant, when Twilight beat her to the punch.
“‘I am immortal. That was my wish,’” she said, echoing him word for word. 
Oh, the wish part. Sly had actually forgotten about that, but managed to mask her surprise before Twilight could see it on her face. Instead, she nodded and hummed quietly. 
“All three brothers fought for the jewel,” Twilight continued. “Somehow, all three were defeated and sealed down here, and bound to guard their father’s crypt and the jewel.”
“So who defeated them? And why didn’t they just keep the jewel for themselves? Why lock it down here?”
Twilight chewed on her lip. “He said his sister buried him here. The histories don’t mention anything about Curalmil having a daughter, though.”
“Half-sister, maybe? From his mother?” Sly wondered.
Twilight shrugged. Her side seemed to have healed to the point that the movement caused her no pain. The exposed skin had even started taking on the purple tint that underlay the rest of her coat. “Maybe, or the histories might just be incomplete. They haven’t exactly been too insightful about what we’ve found down here.”
That was an understatement. If the histories had been more accurate, Sly never would have set foot near the damn tomb. Jails weren’t comfortable or interesting, but they were far safer than this. 
Much lonelier, though. The thought intruded on her mind, unbidden. She frowned and cast a quick glance in Twilight’s direction. The other mare stared into the fire, unnoticing.
“The histories didn’t mention Theostre being immortal,” Twilight said. “They didn’t mention Ageund being a giant, and they certainly didn’t mention Cianim being... Cianim.” She drew her hooves in closer to her body at the mention of his name. Her tail curled tight around her side.
“Yeah, I’m not a history-writer pony—”
“Historian,” Twilight interrupted.
“—but that seems like the kind of detail I would mention,” Sly finished. There was no point in being annoyed by the correction. Just Twilight being Twilight. “Before we go any deeper, are we relying on these books for anything important? Because maybe we shouldn’t.”
Twilight’s frown deepened at the disparagement of her books, but she had no ready answer. She glowered at the fire in silence, her ears folded back along her skull. It was another cute look, Sly decided. 
“They were right about the most important thing,” Twilight finally said. “The Wind’s Eye is still down here. Theostre wanted us to open his father’s crypt, so he could reclaim it. It’s possible there’s no more guards, no more... monsters. Just Curalmil’s crypt and the jewel.”
“You really think it will be that easy? We could just walk in there now if you want. Grab the jewel, be home by dinner.”
Twilight let out a shaky breath. “No, I don’t think it will be easy. Nothing about this trip has been.” She was quiet for a moment, then turned her body slightly to face Sly. “But there’s something I need to tell you before we go any farther.”
Sly’s ears swiveled forward. “Oh?”
“You... you know that Celestia doesn’t exactly trust you.” Twilight said. Her eyes flicked up to the iron band around Sly’s horn. “I didn’t either, when we started. Half the reason I came was to keep you from doing anything stupid with the jewel.”
Sly crossed her eyes, trying to glance up at the band. She’d almost forgotten it was there. “Yeah, I gathered that. So?”
“Well, I trust you now. More. A little more. A little.” Twilight blushed as she stumbled over her words. Sly had to suppress a smile, then noticed she was blushing as well. She faked a cough to try and hide it.
“Well, thanks, I guess. I trust you, too?” That had sounded better in her head. 
“Er, thank you?” Twilight said. There was an awkward pause before she continued. “We trust each other, right? So I can tell you now.”
“Yes.”
Another pause. 
“So?” Sly prodded.
“So what?”
“So, what are you going to tell me?” Sly asked, exasperated. Twilight wasn’t so good at this conversation thing.
“Oh! Right.” She exhaled again and tapped the tips of her forehooves together. “I wasn’t supposed to let you touch the jewel. Celestia didn’t think you were responsible enough to have it, even briefly.”
Sly blinked. An odd warmth filled her chest, and for a moment, her eyes threatened to water. “But now you do?” Maybe she had misjudged Twilight. The sarcasm, awkwardness and bookishness were just a front, to keep ponies from seeing the real, beautiful, wonderful mare hidden beneath the—
“Oh, heavens no,” Twilight interrupted her musing. “No, I still plan on taking the jewel.”
Very skillfully hidden beneath the aggravating, abrasive exterior, Sly amended. Her lips pursed slightly in annoyance. “Well, that’s... nice. Thank you for sharing that.”
“Er, there’s more.”
More, wonderful. Perhaps she planned on leaving her here, too. Sly raised an eyebrow.
Twilight took a deep, slow breath. “When Celestia and I made that plan, we didn’t realize how dangerous this place would be. We had no idea these... things would be guarding the jewel.”
Sly couldn’t argue with that. She gave Twilight an encouraging nod. “And?”
“And, I almost died back there,” Twilight continued in a rush. “If you hadn’t found those potions, I would have. If there’s something else guarding the jewel, that may happen again. I might not survive to keep the jewel from you.”
Sly frowned. “That’s your biggest concern? I might get the jewel, even though you’re dead?” She struggled not to shout the last few words.
“Yes,” Twilight said with a sudden, startling intensity. Her eyes stared straight into Sly’s. “I told you before, our lives are worth sacrificing if it means stopping the dragons. That wish is far, far more important than you or me. Be honest, what was the first thing you thought when Celestia mentioned the wish?”
Sly leaned back. Years of lying and cheating made it easy to keep her face neutral. “I imagined giving it to Celestia, so she could stop the—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Twilight snapped. “Am I your friend or not? You did the same thing everypony does when they hear about a wish. They imagine using it for themselves. Riches, power, eternal life, every single pony who is granted a wish uses it for something selfish. Dammit Sly, even I can’t keep from dreaming about using it on myself!”
Sly felt her mouth hanging open. They stared at each other, Sly stunned, Twilight breathing heavily.
Time to calm things down a bit. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” Sly said, as soothingly as possible. “I did think about wishing for my own palace. Servants, wealth, all that. But now I know better.” She gave Twilight her best smile.
Twilight snorted quietly, but seemed calmer. At least she wasn’t yelling. “There’s more,” she said. “Wish spells are incredibly dangerous. They don’t give you want you want. They give you what you ask for, and always with the least possible expenditure of energy.”
Buh wha? Sly blinked. “Say that again?”
“Take Theostre. Do you think he really wanted to be a draugr? To have his skin peeling off and rotting for the rest of eternity? No, he wished to be immortal, and that’s exactly what he got. Becoming a draugr was the easiest way for the jewel to make him live forever.”
“Well, I didn’t plan on wishing to be immortal.”
“Fine, let’s say you wished for that palace. But what if the easiest way to get a palace is to give you one that belongs to someone else? Like Celestia? How do you think she would react to somepony wishing Canterlot out from under her?”
Sly paled beneath her coat. Celestia had seemed like a kind, loving goddess, but even the kindest ponies had their limits. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what Celestia’s bad side looked like.
“Right. So, wish carefully, is what you’re saying?”
“More than just carefully,” Twilight countered. “It can take years to craft the best phrasing for a wish, but that’s never what happens. Either ponies get too eager and wish for the first thing that pops into their head, or they save the wish for an emergency and end up using it in a panic. Wishes are dangerous, and I don’t want to see you...” she trailed off.
“See me what?” A faint twinge of alarm began building in her chest.
“See you...” Twilight stopped and let out a deep breath. “What do you know about Luna?”
The sudden turn threw Sly for a loop. “Who?”
“Princess Luna? Celestia’s sister?”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Do you know how she died?”
Sly suddenly felt like she was walking on very thin ice. “I was always told she’d died fighting alongside the Dragonborn, right before the dragons were defeated.”
“That’s... generally true,” Twilight admitted. “But it’s not the whole truth. It’s actually a lot more—” She stopped suddenly, a distracted look on her face. 
Sly gave her a few seconds. “A lot more what?”
“A lot more...” she trailed off again. “Would you like to hear a story?”
Sly blinked. Twilight’s erratic half of the conversation was starting to unnerve her. “A story?”
“About one of the first Dragonborn. I think you might like it.”
Hm. She did like the Dragonborn. “Okay, sure. Story time.”
Twilight smiled for what felt like the first time in hours. The simple expression buoyed Sly’s spirits more than the most beautiful treasure in the museum. Twilight sat up straighter, and when she spoke, it was with the formal, practiced cadence of an expert storyteller reciting a familiar tale. Sly felt herself sinking into the words, the dungeon melting away, replaced by the ancient world of Twilight’s making.
“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters...


oooOOOooo

“We are pleased that you have returned to us, sister.  We trust your journey was fruitful.”
Luna sketched a slight bow, lowering her head to her extended foreleg. High above, upon her golden throne, Celestia acknowledge the bow with a nod. Technically, they were equals, and no such formalities were necessary. No need for bows, or obeisances, or carefully framed greetings. They were equals, technically.
But the sun is, was, and always shall be greater than the moon. For what is the moon’s light, but a dim reflection of the sun? Luna waited the appropriate number of seconds, then stood and ascended the stairs, taking a seat in her own throne beside her sister. Her smaller, darker throne.
“Very fruitful,” Luna said. “Perhaps we could speak in private about it?”
“Of course,” Celestia whispered. She raised her voice to the majordomo, a powerfully built earth pony standing at the foot of the stairs. “Sand Dollar, we believe we are done for the day.”
The majordomo nodded to the princesses, though his eyes were on Celestia, Luna noticed. He turned to the court and rapped his staff on the floor. “The court is in recess!” he shouted, provoking a mutter from the crowd, still filled with petitioners waiting their turn. “Return tomorrow, if you have business for the crown.”
The sisters ignored the grumbling. They stood, and Luna followed Celestia to their private quarters.


***

“I missed you,” Celestia said. “I was worried.” She dropped the majestic plural as soon as they left the court. Once they were safely through the curtains, she stopped and gave Luna a friendly nuzzle. The servants trotting alongside them pretended not to notice.
Luna suffered her sister’s affections with a silent eye roll. “I’m not a child, ‘Tia. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
Celestia laughed quietly. As always, it was a melodic, beautiful sound, like bells in the distance. “Of course, Luna. All grown up now.”
They settled into Celestia’s private dining room, a cozy solarium that drank in the sun’s afternoon rays. Through the huge glass windows, they could spy all of Canterlot, stretched out below the palace, going about its business. Far off on the horizon, a smudge of smoke betrayed the presence of another dragon attack.
Celestia noticed her sister’s gaze and sighed. “They’re growing more confident. One actually attacked the city last week. It killed a dozen ponies before the city guard arrived and destroyed it.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.” She leaned across the table. “I think I found it.”
Celestia glanced up over the rim of her tea. “So easily? You made it sound like it would take years.”
Luna deflated, sinking into her chair. “It may yet. I found the secret, but the crafting will be... laborious. A decade, if we hurry.”
“A decade? I’m not sure we have that much time.” Celestia turned back to the windows. Far in the distance, a mountaintop shifted. Huge wings extended from its sides, and it dropped away from the peak, soaring over the valleys and foothills until it was lost in the haze.
Luna followed her gaze, tracking the dragon as it vanished. “I know. We’d best get started.”


***

For nearly ten years, Luna scoured the world, searching for the materials to craft her weapon. A fallen star, found upon the glacial fields a thousand miles to the north, provided a taste of the firmament. She felled a thousand trees in the blighted Shimmergloom Swamp, searching for the perfect piece of ebony heartwood to use as charcoal. She drained a dozen lakes, looking for a single flask’s worth of pure, unadulterated water, never touched by pony lips or hooves.
For an entire year she flew around the world, tearing volcanoes apart to find a mythical stream of living lava, and stole from it a drop of never-cooling stone. The bead of molten rock shone like a star in her hooves, and kept her warm during the deepest winter nights.
The Dragon Winters, as they became known, settled upon the land. Every year the snows arrived earlier and melted later. Every year the heart of winter grew more terrible, covering the world with unnatural chill. Birds fell dead out of the skies. Mountains stayed white all the year round. Farmers rushed to plant and harvest their crops in the few short months of warmth.
Through it all the dragons grew stronger, as though empowered by the cold. Some ponies argued that the winter brought the dragons — others said the dragons brought the winter. Whoever was correct, each new year saw deeper winter and more dragons. Hope began to fade in ponies’ hearts. Fewer foals were born every year, for who could ever want to bring a child into such a grim world?
For nearly ten years Luna searched, Celestia fought, ponies suffered, winter deepened, and the dragons endured.
Then, one day, Luna returned.


***

“This is it? The last piece?” Celestia asked. She leaned over Luna’s table, staring at the diamond. It was by far the largest she had ever seen, the size and shape of a goose egg. Luna had already cut and polished it until it glimmered with a mesmerizing fire. 
“Next to last,” Luna said. “I have all five elements, and the crafting should be fairly simple. The hard part will be the spark, to give it life.”
“We have flint and steel.”
Luna smirked. “A figure of speech, dear sister. It will require something a bit more magical than that.”
“I see. I assume you already know what it will take, and are just drawing this out for dramatic tension?”
Luna turned away, so her sister would not see her annoyance. “Straight to the point, as always. It needs a dragon’s soul.”
Celestia was silent for a moment. Luna heard soft hoofsteps on marble as her sister came to stand beside her.
“Well, I suppose anything less would be too easy, at this point,” she said. “You have a plan?”
“Yes. I’ve already spoken with one of the Dragonborn. We will lay a trap for a dragon, and he will absorb its soul when we kill it. It should be one of the simpler parts of the puzzle.”
“Mm, simpler.” Celestia walked around so she could look her sister in the eye. “This Dragonborn, do I know him?” It was a sham question. There were less than a dozen Dragonborn in the world, and Celestia knew them all.
Luna tilted her head up. “You may. A pegasus named Cloud Fire.” She spoke his name casually, as though it were any other word on a list.
Celestia’s smile widened by the tiniest bit. Only those who knew her well would have even seen it. Luna did, of course, and forced herself not to scowl.
“Yes, I think I’ve heard that name before.” She walked to the exit. “Anyway, you seem to have things well in hoof. I hope your efforts will be... fruitful.”
Luna waited until her sister’s hoofsteps faded down the corridor, then turned back to her workbench. There was still much to do before they would be ready for the spark.


***

Cloud Fire was waiting for her when she returned to her quarters. The sun had begun its slow  daily ascent, and she was ready for bed.
On the other hoof... she smiled at Cloud and held the door open for him. He slipped through with the fluid grace that had first caught her eye, all those years ago. She checked to make sure no one in the corridor had seen, and then followed.
“Good evening, princess,” he said. His sandy coat stood out easily, even in the dark. He went around lighting the various candles and braziers placed around her room. The darkness slowly receded, pushed back by the warm, gentle light of the fires.
She flopped onto the bed, her normal regal grace completely abandoned. Her horn glowed, and her crown floated over to an unadorned wood stand next to a mirror. Thus freed, her mane spilled onto the sheets like a starlit river.
“Good morning, you mean.” She stifled a yawn. “Didn’t you just wake up?”
He climbed onto the bed beside her. “I’ve been flying nights, lately. Easier to see the dragons’ fire from a distance. Besides, the night’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”
“Mm, flatterer.”
“Guilty,” he admitted. “But anyway, what did she say?”
Luna propped herself up on her front legs, tucking her hooves beneath her. “She had no objections. None that she voiced, at least.”
He nodded. “Do you think she knows? About us?”
“She certainly acted like she did. Sometimes she can be so... insufferable!”
He leaned back slightly, scratching his chin with a hoof. “Well, I’m not in the dungeons, so I assume she doesn’t mind—”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Luna interrupted, her head tilting imperiously. “I am a princess, just as she is. She would not dare judge me!”
“No, but she is your sister, and she cares about you.” He soothed, and leaned over to nibble on one of her delicate ears.
But Luna was difficult to soothe. She flicked her ear away and grumbled something under her breath, then settled her head on her hooves, apparently content to sulk the morning away. Cloud sighed silently and retrieved his secret weapon from the stand beside her bed: a simple wooden brush, with a special handle for pegasus and earth ponies to grip in their teeth. So armed, he returned to her and began carefully brushing her mane, teasing out the knots and tangles that invariably accumulated in the thick, luxuriant mass.
She resisted at first, but the truth was that she loved her sister, and could only hold anger in her heart for a brief time. The gentle brush strokes wore away her indignation like flowing water eroding stone, and she found herself slumped against his side, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
After a time, he put the brush down, and...


oooOOOooo

Sly raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Twilight blushed. "And... you know." She tapped her hooves together, as though that somehow explained things.
Too cute. Sly forced herself not to smile. "I'm afraid I don't. What happened next?"
Twilight blushed harder. The tips of her ears drooped. "Well, they uh, knew each other."
Sly put on her most innocent expression. "Oh. Like we know each other?"
Twilight clapped her hooves over her mouth. "No! No, definitely not like us!"
It was too much. Sly started to giggle. Twilight stared at her for a long moment, then set her hooves down, a flat expression on her face.
"Is it too much to ask for you to act like a grown mare for just one minute?" she asked.
"So they knew each other, is what you're saying?"
Twilight rolled her eyes. "They slept together, okay? They had sex. There. You've ruined an epic ballad of love and loss that I'll never be able to hear again without thinking of you. Happy?"
"I’m not sure how that ruins—"
"Moving on!" Twilight interrupted, resuming the story with uncharacteristic haste.


oooOOOooo

They left in the morning to set the trap.
Luna and Cloud Fire found a small farming village near the edge of civilization. It had been abandoned weeks ago, but had yet to surrender to the elements. The houses were neat and intact, their roofs not yet holed or caved in. It was perfect.
Their plan was simple: make the village seem like it was still inhabited, and wait. It was not the most devious strategy Luna had ever come up with, but it was easy and it worked. They spent a week living in the empty houses. At night, with all the fireplaces aglow, it truly did seem inhabited from the air. Exactly the way a dragon would see it.
On the seventh day, the dragon attacked. It announced its presence with a loud roar, shaking the trees from miles away with its voice. A young blood dragon soared over the rooftops, low enough to rattle several chimneys to pieces. Low enough for Cloud’s arrow to punch a hole in its wing.
The dragon roared, more in annoyance than pain, and wheeled in the air, searching for the insect who dared attack it. It found him immediately: Cloud stood in the open, in the middle of the street, his wings folded at his side.
Too easy. The dragon landed in the street with a tremendous crash that toppled the nearest houses. Its wings, outspread, blocked half the sky. It opened its mouth to incinerate the tiny mortal, then paused, as though realizing something.
You... you are dovahkiin. The beast took a step closer, lowering its snout to inspect its prey. It snorted, sending wafts of smoke billowing through the street.
“Yes,” Cloud responded. “And this is a trap.”
The dragon’s chuckle was like thunder. Is it, now? It is a pity I must destroy you, little mortal. Such arrogance. You would have made a fitting servant for a god. It took in a deep breath.
Cloud’s breath was faster. He inhaled and shouted; at that range, just feet away, it was impossible to miss. “Krii lun AUS!”
The dragon roared in pain as Cloud’s shout rolled over it. Its scales softened and lost their color, turning a waxy, sickly pink. Blood seeped out from its eyes and mouth, dripping onto the ground with a sizzling patter.
Cloud kicked himself into the air before it could recover, his wings flapping furiously for speed and altitude. Below him the dragon roared again, infuriated, and spread its own massive wings. He felt the air shake as it took flight.
Pegusi rarely fought dragons in the air. The massive beasts were faster, stronger, and could reach miles with their breaths. They were like flies to the dragons: weak, small, and easy to swat.
Most ponies, anyway. Cloud leaned forward, searching for the indigo speck that could face dragons in their own element. He led the dragon on a short, brutal chase through the mountain valley. The taller trees clawed at him with their crowns, and he tilted his wings, shooting nearly straight up into the air. The dragon followed the climb effortlessly; it would catch him in seconds.
Luna caught him first. She flashed past him at impossible speed, her wingtip brushing against his as she dove straight for the dragon. There was a terrible scream, louder than anything Cloud had ever heard, followed by silence. He stopped and spun in time to see the dragon spinning to the ground. One of its wings, sliced cleanly away at the shoulder, tumbled through the air on a different trajectory, chased by a steaming contrail of blood.
The dragon lay in the forest, nearly dead when Cloud landed. Luna was waiting for him, standing silently by the fallen monster, her silver spear floating serenely by her side. She gave him a tiny nod.
“Your part, I believe,” she said.
“Yes.” He selected a glass arrow from his quiver, nocked it on his bow, and sighted down it at the dragon’s head. Beside him Luna floated out the jewel, an innocuous-looking diamond that barely seemed worth all this trouble.
The dragon roared weakly and tried to lift its head. The motion exposed its neck, and Cloud’s arrow sank easily through the soft scales, past its flesh, and into its spine. It shuddered again, then collapsed. The trees around it smoldered.
“One dragon soul, coming up.” Cloud dropped the bow and reached out to grasp the floating jewel in his lips. He took a calming breath and walked toward the fallen dragon.
The dragon’s corpse ignited, burning with a bright, cold fire that quickly reduced it to bones. The light wrapped around him, and he felt the dragon’s soul sinking into his being, like it had so many times before. This time, however, he twisted the flow, channeling it into the tiny jewel in his mouth. 
It was over in seconds. The dragon’s skeleton sank into the soil, already beginning to crack. Around them the birds resumed their songs. The diamond in his mouth felt warmer, heavier, almost alive.
He spat it out. Luna caught it before it hit the ground, giving him a frown for his trouble.
“So, did it work?” he asked.
She held the jewel before her eyes. Faint images seemed to shift inside it, dancing as she turned in the air.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “It did something, though.”
“Well, that’s a start.”


***

“So, you must be Luna’s friend. Cloud Fire, was it?” Celestia gave him a warm smile.
“Yes, your majesty. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He stood across from the princess in Luna’s laboratory. Between them the jewel sat on a worktable, the images inside it dancing in time with an unheard tune.
“Oh, the honor is mine. Such a fine, polite young stallion.” Her smile shifted to Luna, who was doing her best to seethe quietly. “Luna has told me so much about you.”
“I have not!” Luna protested. A faint blush appeared on her face, almost invisible beneath the dark coat.
“Ah, you’re right. I apologize,” Celestia said. “I meant, my spies have told me so much about you. Luna never tells me anything about her friends.” Despite the words, her eyes twinkled with levity. Cloud suspected he was in the crossfire of a practical joke.
“Spies!? Has it come to this between us, sister?” Luna shrieked. Cloud edged away nervously from her mantled wings. “Am I just another pawn for you to... you to...” She trailed off as she noticed Celestia’s laughter, and the indignation on her face was replaced by a scowl.
“Hilarious, dear sister,” she muttered. “Such a fine sense of humor you have inherited. Truly, our court would be a grim and dour place without you.”
“One of us must be able to laugh, beloved,” Celestia answered, as serene as always. Cloud wondered if anything affected her.
“The jewel, your majesties?” he suggested.
“Ah, yes.” Celestia nudged it with a hoof, sending it bumping across the table on its polished facets before Luna stopped it. “Did it work?”
Luna was slow to answer. “I... believe so. The images inside are a positive sign.”
Cloud leaned closer, trying to peer into the jewel. The pictures shifted quickly, but occasionally they paused long enough to stick in his mind. The ocean. A candle. Gold coins. Blood. He shook his head.
“What is it showing?” he asked. “And how does that help us?”
“The images are possibilities,” Luna said. “The jewel is a window, and like an open window it lets certain things pass. If you wear it, small, beneficial things will leak through at a constant rate... good health, better luck, better aim.” She glanced askance at his bow.
Celestia leaned closer to the jewel. Her beautiful, pastel mane spilled onto the table. “And the other thing?” she asked.
Luna nodded. “Yes, the other thing. Once, during your lifetime, you can reach through the window, grab anything of your choosing, and bring it back. Metaphorically, that is.”
“I see,” Cloud said. “Pretend I’m not a unicorn, for a moment. What does it actually do?”
“It grants wishes, Cloud,” Luna said. “It grants wishes.”
“Oh.” He paused, thinking. “That is... huh.”
“Huh, indeed,” Celestia said, earning a glare from her sister. “This could be the weapon we’ve needed. This could be the turning point in the war.”
“So, do we just wish the dragons were all dead, or something?” Cloud reached a hoof toward the jewel.
“No!” Luna shouted, snatching it away before he could come close. Even Celestia looked alarmed at his suggestion. “No, that would be dangerous. There are protocols for wish spells. If you don’t follow them, terrible things can happen.”
“I don’t see how killing all the dragons would be terrible,” he said. His wings ruffled slightly in agitation.
“Would it be terrible if they died because a meteor slammed into our world, cracking its crust open and ending all life?” Luna asked. “Wishes are dangerous. This weapon is like a sword with no hilt. We wield it by holding the blade in our mouths.”
He was quiet for a while. His feathers stood on end as he stared at the jewel.
“Well, that’s... interesting,” he finally said. “What do you plan on wishing for, then?”
Luna bit her lip. Across from him, Celestia shifted her weight, the ever-present smile on her face fading away. The room suddenly seemed colder.
“I’m...” Luna stopped and took a breath. “I’m not wishing for anything. You are.”
Much colder. “I’d really rather not. Shouldn’t it be one of you two—” he started.
“We can’t,” Celestia said, interrupting him gently.
“The jewel grants one wish per lifetime,” Luna followed. “My sister and I are nearly immortal. If either of us use the wish, it might be thousands of years before anyone else can. Whereas, if you use the wish...”
He blinked at her. His friend, confident and lover. Never before had the gulf between them seemed so wide and deep. 
“Whereas, if I use the wish, someone else can use it again in just a few years, right?” he finished for her. “Because Dragonborn never live long.”
She looked down at the jewel, unable to meet his gaze. “Something like that.”
“I see,” he said. They were quiet for a while, all three staring at the jewel and its kaleidoscope of images. “This is a lot to think about. I hope you will excuse me.”
Neither princess looked up from the jewel as he took his leave.


***

“You must hate me,” Luna whispered. She lay on her side, facing away from him. The blankets, kicked off in their earlier passion, sat at the foot of the bed in a tangled heap. A faint sheen of sweat slowly dried on her coat, leaving her suddenly chill with the dry winter air. She shivered.
He sighed quietly. They were her first words since he had arrived in her chamber over an hour before. Instead she had relied on a more primitive dialect to communicate her needs, and he had listened carefully.
“Why would I do that?” he asked. While she thought of an answer, he grabbed the fallen blanket in his lips, shook it out, and pulled it over their shoulders. Her shivering quieted, though he still felt tiny trembles against his chest.
“Because I’ve lied to you,” she said. Her voice was soft, dull. “For three years I’ve been pretending to love you.”
“You must think yourself a very good liar.” He bit the tip of her ear lightly. “But only to yourself, I think.”
She scooted away from him. He followed, until she was at the edge of the bed, with nowhere else to retreat. They lay that way for a while as she sulked. Eventually, she rolled over and faced him.
“You should hate me,” she said. Her breath, hot and sweet, tickled his nose.
“And yet, somehow, I do not.”
“You should,” she said, louder. “We’re using you, just like any other weapon in our arsenal. Worse, we’re already planning for your disposal. Just one more mortal tossed away. Fired off like one of your arrows, forgotten once it leaves the bow. Your life means nothing, compared to the wish.” The bitterness in her words tore at his heart.
He placed a light kiss on the end of her snout. “You’re doing what you have to do.”
She still seemed upset, so he followed with another kiss, then a nibble on her neck. One thing led to another, until she responded with the heat and urgency he had come to expect from her. Afterword, they were quiet, except for their slowly calming breaths. Outside their chamber, hidden by the thick drapes, the sun climbed toward noon.
“Someday, when this is all over, when you... when you are gone...” She reached out a hoof, pressing it against his chest. “I will take the jewel, and wish for a single, mortal span. To be a pegasus or unicorn or earth pony, and live one, true life.”
His eyes widened in alarm. “That’s a lot to give up. For you and us. Equestria needs its princesses. Celestia needs you.”
She snorted. “My sister would not even notice. She has moved beyond such things as love, Cloud.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think she loves you deeply.”
“We’ve already established that you’re a poor judge of princesses.” She kissed his nose to soften her hard words.
“Hm, perhaps.” He paused and snuggled a bit closer, sensing their conversation drawing to a close. “Do you really want to be mortal, though? To die?”
“No, Cloud. All creatures, great and small, fear death.” She nestled up against him. “I want to be mortal, so I can live.”


***

Four months later, as the pall of winter began to slowly make way for a short, weak spring, they were ready to use the jewel.
Luna retrieved it from its special safe and set it on her workbench. Time had not diminished the jewel in the slightest — images still flashed with blinding speed deep within. Cloud Fire kept his distance. On the edge of the room, Celestia watched silently.
“Alright, then,” Luna said. She let out a quiet breath. “Just like we rehearsed, Cloud.”
“Right.” He licked his lips nervously. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Celestia give him a tiny, reassuring nod. “Just like rehearsal.”
He stood, placing his hooves on the table. It was uncomfortably high, having been built by Luna for her own use. Asking for a stool would have been demeaning, though, and he ignored the discomfort. Before second thoughts could weaken his resolve, he reached out one hoof to touch the jewel.
He had practiced the wish a hundred times, and it flowed easily from his lips. “I wish I was in possession of a weapon capable of defeating the dragons, proportional in power to the threat posed by the dragons, limited in power to that minimally necessary to defeat the dragons, discriminating in its effects, precise in its engagement, and reasonably usable by a normal pony.”
The shifting images began to slow. Flames filled the jewel, displacing the other sights, the other possibilities. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. Luna’s warning about a world-ending meteor loomed in his mind. This was their first wish with the jewel, after all, and they had no assurances that it would work as planned. Perhaps they should have started with something less potentially dangerous, he pondered.
With an audible click, the jewel froze and went dark. No meteors. The three ponies three exhaled as one, and leaned over the table.
No weapon either, he noted. “So, did it—”
A loud crack interrupted him. His ears popped as a long, narrow shape suddenly appeared in the air above the table. It hung there for a moment, ignored by gravity, before tumbling to the table with a clatter. He flinched away, nearly taking flight before the calmer parts of his mind prevailed.
“An... arrow?” Luna said. She levitated the mysterious item into the air, turning it this way and that. It was longer than the arrows in his own quiver, with a thin, pointed tip designed for piercing armor, unlike the broadheads he normally used. Rather than feather fletchings, the end of the arrow was fluted, with thin vanes running along its length. The arrowhead and shaft were of a single piece, crafted from some smokey glass, through which he could faintly see the light of the window behind Luna.
“There appears to be something inside it. May I?” Celestia asked. At Luna’s nod, her horn glowed, and the arrow floated closer to the elder princess. It turned until its tip was pointing up, and a faint trickle of golden grains began flowing down the inside of the shaft, collecting at a narrow waist, then flowing through to its tail. She flipped the arrow over, and the grains — sand, perhaps? — began flowing back toward its tip.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Cloud asked. He half-jumped, half-flew onto the table for a closer look at the arrow.
“I have not,” Celestia said. She set the arrow down carefully, mindful of its tip. 
“Nor I,” said Luna. “But it seems straightforward enough.”
“Just one, though?” he said. “We wished for a weapon that could defeat the dragons, plural. How does a single arrow do that?”
Luna and Celestia shared a glance. Something silent passed between them, and Celestia shrugged slightly.
“I think we use it on the biggest one,” Luna said.


***

Alduin. God, destroyer, first born, world eater. The lord of the dragons was known by many names but only one form. His wings stretched wider than a mountain. His roar could be heard for miles around. His breath was a flame brighter than the sun. His scales were black as night. 
Always before he had haunted the edges of the world, sending his children to wage war against the mortal races. Never did he fly into battle, though none pretended to understand why. Nothing, not even the sisters, could have stood against him and lived.
Not until the final battle of the war — the dragons’ assault on Canterlot — did Alduin himself appear on the field of battle. His children swarmed around him in the snow, the largest of them only a tenth his size. From a mountaintop perch he watched the city vanish in flames.
The ponies fought valiantly, but against such foes they had little chance. Their armies fell back into the city, then to the mountaintop castle that housed Celestia’s throne.
She led the battle, shining as bright as the sun. Though the cold winter wind tore at their hides like knives, they drew strength and warmth from her presence. Throughout the battle she never faltered, never slowed, even as her white coat became red with the blood of her foes.
But Celestia was only one pony, and not a Dragonborn. The dragons she slew died laughing, knowing that rebirth awaited them. Time and death were on their side.
Finally Alduin had enough. He alighted from his mountain, and landed on the scorched, desolate fields that surrounded the burning city. He breathed, and everything before him died.
Above him, two ponies lived.
Luna and Cloud Fire dove through the towers of smoke, shrouded by her spells against the dragons’ sight. With a final brush of wingtips, they leaned apart, and fell on separate paths toward the ground.
She angled her wings, diving toward Alduin. The spells hiding her form vanished, and she lashed out with her silver spear at his neck. A hundred dragons she had slain with that spear, its infinitely sharp edge slicing through the hardest scales like they were fog. Forged from the very essence of moonlight, it was one of the greatest weapons in the world.
Against his scales, it broke.
He roared in shock, rather than pain. Never before had a pony dared strike him. His massive head swung ponderously through the air, seeking the insect that had stung him. She wheeled in front of him carelessly, not even trying to escape.
MORTAL. He inhaled, and the world shook.
BURN. He exhaled. Luna’s form vanished like mist as the cloud of fire rolled over her.
Cloud Fire saw Alduin turn from nearly a mile away. He flew toward the elder dragon, a dozen feet above the ground, dodging the fires and wreckage of the city. The smaller dragons ignored him. Alduin, distracted, did not see him. He pulled the arrow from his quiver and stopped a thousand feet away. The heat pouring off of Alduin’s body already burned his face and singed his feathers. He could fly no closer.
A thousand feet, far beyond the range of even the greatest longbow. An impossible shot, unless one had a little help. Help such as the jewel hung round his neck on a thin silver chain, weightless, almost forgotten.
He drew the arrow back in his bow, aiming high above Alduin’s monstrous form. He closed his eyes and let it fly.
Alduin turned to see the arrow coming. It was a splinter to him. Nothing, less than a fly. As insignificant as the pony who had fired it. He inhaled again, and breathed just as the arrow landed square between his eyes. His breath trickled off, and for a moment he froze, as though perplexed.
The world eater vanished. 
Gone in the space of a moment. Gone in a flash of light, leaving nothing but a clap of thunder as the air rushed in to fill the void left by his departure.
Without their god-father the other dragons lost heart. Within minutes they had fled, taking wing to the farthest corners of the world. Prey for Dragonborn for the next hundred years.


***

Cloud Fire did not survive the battle. Alduin’s flames, abbreviated as they were and from a thousand feet away, were still more than enough to kill him. The jewel he wore, filled with flashing images and fused to his neck by a line of melted silver, was the only way they identified his body.
Celestia reached him before her sister. The crowd of ponies parted reverently before her as she approached. Her coat still steamed; her wings dripped with blood. No emotion touched her face -- she was numb with grief. Thousands of ponies had died that day, all her children, all beloved. Cloud Fire’s death was just one more flake in a blizzard.
Not to Luna. She landed a dozen feet away, barely recognizable beneath the soot and ash covering her. Her eyes widened as she absorbed the sight of her lover’s charred, twisted form, and she fell onto her haunches in shock.
Celestia came to her side and nuzzled her gently. They sat together while Luna sobbed. Around them the crowd grew larger. Ponies both wounded and whole gravitated to the sisters, all that remained of Equestria. Behind them Canterlot burned.
Eventually Celestia stood. Her subjects needed her. She leaned down and whispered into her sister’s ear.
“We have to move on, beloved. We will mourn properly later.”
Luna looked up at her. “How... how can you say that? He saved us! He defeated Alduin!”
“He is dead, Luna. We must serve the living.” 
Luna stumbled to her hooves, shaking. “They live because of him!” she shouted. Around them the crowd of ponies drew back nervously. “They live...” she trailed off, her gaze drifting to the jewel still resting on Cloud’s body.
“Live,” she said quietly. Only Celestia could hear her.
“No!” she said sharply. “You cannot, Luna. Death and life are not ours to give.”
“His life should be!” Luna said. She lifted the jewel with her magic, easily snapping it free from the melted silver. “Would it be so wrong, sister? Don’t we owe him everything?”
“We do, but this law is greater than us. We cannot break it. I forbid you to.”
“You... forbid?!” Luna spat. She trembled with decades of pent-up rage. “You dare forbid me anything? I am no less worthy than you!”
“I forbid this,” Celestia said. Her face was a calm, impassive mask.
Luna swore and shrieked at her sister. She screamed her hatred. The ponies around them cowered before her wrath.
“Do you feel nothing, sister?” she shouted. “Have you forgotten love? Have you abandoned your heart, to make yourself immune to pain? Don’t you feel anything?!”
“Of course I mourn, my love. But now is not the time for this. Now we must help our subjects—”
“NO!” Luna screamed. Even beneath the ash, the ponies surrounding them could see her coat begin to darken. “I see through your masks, sister! I know the hollowness inside you! You care nothing for your subjects, but I will make you! I will make you feel!” She reached out with a hoof to grab the jewel and press it against her chest.
“I wish—”
“No! You will not!” Celestia’s horn flared with a brilliant light as she attempted to snatch the jewel away, but Luna, filled with a strength born of rage and pain, easily batted her magic aside.
She grinned madly. Her blue eyes lightened to a vibrant cyan even as she wept. “I wish, dear sister, that you could know my grief! I wish that you could feel my loss! I wish that you could suffer, just for one moment, as I am suffering now!”
The crowd was deathly silent in the wake of the wish. Celestia stared at her sister, horror on her face. The dancing images in the jewel slowed, then stopped, and with a click easily heard by everypony present, it went black.
Luna’s eyes widened. The jewel fell to the ground, and a confused, pained expression appeared on her face. Her mouth opened as though she meant to speak, and she stretched her hoof out to Celestia. She stood that way for a long moment, reaching for her sister, then fell forward onto the ground.
Before anyone could draw another breath, Luna died.
Celestia took a faltering step toward her sister, then slowly sank to her knees. The look of horror faded away, replaced by something far more profound, something far worse: understanding. Just as Luna had wished, Celestia knew grief. Celestia felt loss.
And Celestia suffered.


oooOOOooo

For once, Sly had nothing to say. Twilight gave her an expectant look as the story drew to an end, then shrugged slightly, turning her face toward the fire. For a while they were silent as Sly absorbed the story. Twilight’s expert storytelling, almost bard-like in its skill and ingenuity, was forgotten, lost in the shadow cast by the tale itself.
“Oh, Celestia,” she said, almost whispering. How much pain had that kind, beautiful, loving, immortal being suffered? How much pain could any living thing suffer, before breaking?
Twilight must have read her thoughts. “It nearly drove her mad. The jewel vanished moments after Luna died. The consensus among arcane philosophers is that the jewel couldn’t let itself be used by Celestia to bring Luna back, as that would have negated Luna’s wish.”
“What’d Celestia do?”
Twilight shrugged again. “She just... left, for nearly five centuries. I asked her once, but it’s not something she talks about. Some ponies think she was hunting for the jewel, but it reappeared a hundred years before she returned. Curalmil recovered it not much later, and we lost track of it after he died. Until recently, anyway.”
“What about Alduin? He just vanished?”
“As far as we know,” Twilight said. “The wish was for a weapon able to defeat the dragons, not necessarily kill them. He might still be alive, somewhere.”
That was a lovely thought. Dragons the size of a castle were bad enough -- a dragon the size of a mountain, invincible and immortal, was beyond terrifying. Even after facing Ageund, Cianim, and Theostre, it was dragons that filled Sly’s heart with dread. 
Dread and foreboding. She mulled over her fears for a time, then gave them voice. “If Cloud Fire defeated the dragons, why are they back now?”
Twilight set her head on her crossed forelegs. “There are many ponies very desperate for an answer to that question, Sly. If we knew, it might help us defeat them again.”
“Unless we get the jewel, right?” Sly felt nauseous at the thought. The jewel no longer held any value to her. That was Twilight’s reason for telling her the story, of course, but it was still true.
Twilight bobbed her head. “Yes. Do you understand why I’m afraid of it, now?”
“Maybe... maybe we can use it one more time, to defeat the dragons again, then destroy it?”
Twilight glanced at her. “You know ponies, Sly. How likely do you think that is?”
Right. Not very.




Sly woke from a dreamless sleep several hours later with a feeling that something was amiss. It took her several moments to realize that Twilight Sparkle had moved, leaving a cold, lonely gap along her side.
She opened her eyes to see Twilight just a few feet away. The mare had opened her saddlebags, and was slowly tearing her letters into strips, one by one, and feeding their remains into the fire. After a few letters vanished into the flames, she noticed Sly’s gaze, and gave her a tiny nod.
Sly licked her lips nervously. “Hey... what are you doing?”
Twilight waited to answer until the last of the letters were gone. The fire glowed brighter for a moment, gifted with additional fuel, before dying back to the embers they had banked before dozing off. When the pages were nothing but ash, she turned back to Sly, her eyes downcast.
“Growing up.”




Footnote: 50% to next level (Sly)

Footnote: Level Up (Twilight Sparkle)
New Perk: Bard’s Voice — Your tales and songs have a 50% greater chance to influence your audience.


***


{Author's note: As always, ratings and comments are appreciated!}
> Part Six: The Wind's Eye
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Part Six: The Wind’s Eye

Sly’s sleep was peaceful. No memories of her childhood, of growing up in the shadow of the dragons, plagued her nighttime. There was no loss, or death, or pain. No sense of loneliness, no haunting melancholy recalled from days long gone. She dreamt, but not of the past.
The line between sleep and waking was blurred, and she crossed it many times. She dreamed of something purple and warm and safe, and nestled against something purple and warm and wonderful smelling. Back and forth she moved between states, and she could not have said which was which, nor which she liked more. Both were a pleasant escape from the trials of the crypt. Either was preferable to what lay before them.
But, however much she may have wanted it, she could not remain half-asleep forever. They had suffered too much to laze away their hours in idle rest. The dreams eventually receded, replaced with the reality of the crypt and the desperate urgency of the now.
They opened their eyes at the same time, staring at each other in the faint light of the magical campfire. So close their snouts were nearly touching. Sly could feel Twilight Sparkle’s heartbeat against her side.
Say something! Sly licked her lips. “Uh, hey,” she squeaked. Hey? Hey!? Idiot.
“Er, hey,” Twilight responded. She looked around the dim room, then down at their adjoining bodies. What might have been a blush colored her cheeks, and she stood quickly. The air of the crypt felt particularly cold against Sly’s side.
Sly blinked. The change in Twilight’s demeanor was startling. “Is everything alright?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” Twilight said. She paced over to their saddlebags and began packing their things. Her horn pulsed once, and the campfire died. The only sign of its presence was the ash left by her letters. “Just fine,” she muttered.
She didn’t sound fine. Or even close to it, for that matter. Sly glanced at the ashes, then back at her friend. Twilight was busy looking anywhere but at her.
She slowly rose to her hooves and stretched, letting Twilight stew for a moment. When she judged enough time had passed, she trotted over. “Is it about the letters?” she asked.
Twilight was quiet for a while. She stared at the drift of ash on the floor, then turned to face Sly. “How did you know they were letters?” she asked. Her voice was very soft. Dangerous.
Idiot! Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot! Sly’s eyes widened, and she hesitated. The brief pause was as good as a confession.
Twilight’s gaze hardened. She stood straighter, a tight frown appearing on her lips. “You had no right,” she said. Anger added a fierce edge to her words.
“I didn’t! I mean, it was an—” she stopped. A what? An accident? Twilight stared at her. Sly took a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have.”
It was Twilight’s turn to be startled. She clearly hadn’t expected an admission of any kind from Sly, much less an apology. The silence stretched out uncomfortably.
Finally, Twilight sighed. She reached out and brushed away an errant lock of Sly’s powder blue mane with her hoof. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. Come on. We have a jewel to find.”
Sly let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Apologizing worked. Who knew? She trotted after Twilight out into the rest of the crypt.




The smoke and stench had dissipated from the library when Sly and Twilight Sparkle finally returned.
Other signs of the fight with Theostre remained everywhere they looked. Even ignoring the pile of empty healing potions and the patch of burnt blood where Twilight had lain, the library was wrecked almost beyond recognition, like some childish god had turned the room upside down and given it a good shake. Most of the ancient wood bookcases lining the walls had fallen over in the chaos or been blasted to pieces. Fragments of the shelves were scattered across the floor, intermixed with charred books and broken artifacts. It was even more of a dump than the ransacked crypts Sly was used to exploring.
The center of the room also bore scars of the battle. A faint curtain of motionless smoke still hung around the time well, lit from within by the turning of its model sun. The spinning orbs carved a clear channel through the frozen haze. Beneath them, Theostre sat motionless, suspended partially off the floor in the midst of a centuries-long fall. Sly's arrow still protruded from his forehead like a second horn, dripping blood that had not moved an inch since the day before.
Twilight stared at Theostre, her expression quickly shifting from alarm to anger and finally disgust. She gave him a glare that nearly singed Sly simply in passing, then turned away and trotted around the outside of the room.
Sly followed, making sure to stay clear of the blue line around the time well. Some expensive-looking artifacts had fallen near the well, but they strangely resisted her attempts to grab them magically, and Twilight didn't seem to be in the mood for a lengthy detour to inspect them. There was always the rest of the museum to plunder on the way out, she reminded herself.
Twilight stopped at a nondescript door next to Theostre's throne. Sly had assumed it led to some sort of supply closet, given its unimpressive appearance. The only hint of what lay beyond was a tiny slip of yellowed paper pasted over the seam between door and wall, just above the iron knob. A small rune, drawn in black ink and looking like a circle that had gone horribly wrong, called to her from the paper.
“This is it?” Sly asked. She gave the paper seal a closer look, then turned her head away. The rune physically tugged at her eyes, as if demanding she view it.
“Yes,” Twilight responded. “Try not to look at the seal. It has a charm cantrip built into it.”
Too late for that. “Is it dangerous?” Sly turned around, only to see Theostre's frozen form floating near the time well. She scowled him and looked at Twilight instead.
Twilight's horn glowed, then flashed with a brilliant light that left Sly blinking away tears. When her vision recovered the paper was gone, replaced by a smear of ash discoloring the wood and stone. The scent of smoke brought back memories of campfires and dragon fire.
“Not to me,” Twilight said in clipped tones.
She was still in a bit of a mood, apparently. Sly gingerly came alongside the other mare, then stood fidgeting. Twilight continued to stare at the door as though it had somehow wronged her.
“So... should we go in?”
Twilight started, broken out of whatever deep thoughts she had been entertaining. She licked her lips nervously and nodded in assent.
“Yes, just... remember to be careful, alright? We don't know what's in there.” Twilight spoke softly, as though afraid of being overheard.
That was putting it gently. Sly took a long, shaky breath and pulled the door open. Beyond it lay a simple stone corridor, slightly higher than a pony’s head, utterly inconspicuous compared to the lavish displays of wealth and power throughout the rest of Theostre’s lair. Twenty paces down the hallway, another door awaited them.
There were no lights, magical or otherwise, in the corridor. Twilight led the way with her horn, painting the plain grey stones with a wan lavender light. Behind them, the door swung shut with a click, cutting off the last of the false sunlight shining from the time well. They had left the tombs of the brothers and stood on the threshold of a new mystery, dark and deep and urgent.
A plaque bearing the same angular script as the other tombs rested above the door. Sly nearly wept when she saw it.
Twilight closed her eyes, a wretched expression on her face, then shook her head and stood to read the plaque. “Cural...” she trailed off, the rest of her breath leaving her in a quiet sob. “Curalmil, father, lord, emperor. Forgive me. Forgive us. We did not know. Rest, and by the passage of millennia be redeemed.”
Another one. Oh Celestia, another one. Sly realized her legs were shaking and forced them to be still. Twilight returned to all four hooves, her eyes scrunched closed. The shadows around them jittered in sympathy as her horn shook.
Sly's mouth was dry. She worked her tongue around her teeth, trying to find enough saliva to speak. “We don’t have to go in. We can go back to Celestia, tell her what we found. Someone else can get it. Let them have the wish.” Her last words hung in the air — a day ago she could never have imagined saying such a thing. Giving up a wish? Giving up everything she had dreamed of? Impossible.
Twilight shook her head. “We have to, Sly. The wish is worth more than our lives. How many ponies will die if it takes an extra month to get the jewel because we were too afraid?”
“But what if we can’t?” Sly shot back. “If we die, the jewel stays down here anyway. We could be tossing our lives away for nothing! You almost died back there. I don’t want to...” Her throat closed on the final words, unable to finish them.
Twilight stared at her in silence. Sly's loud breaths, nearly on the verge of panting, were the only sound in the corridor.
“Don't want to what?” Twilight asked.
Lose you again. Sly tried to say the words, but they wouldn't come. Some cowardly fragment of her will blocked her voice, and she stared mutely at Twilight instead. The unbroken silence of the tomb dragged on.
Disappointment slowly overtook Twilight's features. “I see... I can’t force you to go any further. Do what you have to do.” Her horn flashed, and Sly felt an odd popping sensation around her head, as though she had burst a balloon with her horn. A moment later, something small rolled down her forehead and hit the ground with a metallic ring that echoed off the stone walls. She looked down to see an iron band, split cleanly in two and resting on the floor. It took her a second to realize it was the damper the guards had put on her horn after her arrest in Canterlot.
She reached out with her hoof and gave it a gentle tap. It slid a few inches across the floor, harmless and dead. She was no longer a prisoner.
“Go home, Sly,” Twilight whispered. The pain etched on her face was real – Sly had never been more certain of anything in her life. “Take whatever you want from the crypts. You've more than earned it. I'm sorry I brought you here.”
It was like a kick to the gut. A hollowness she hadn't felt since she was a filly, stumbling away from the ruins of her village, filled her chest. She looked between the broken band and Twilight, utterly lost.
Twilight watched her for a few seconds, then gave a slight shrug and turned back to the door. It swung open, and she took a shaking step into the darkness beyond. Within moments the pale light of her horn was lost in the shadows.
There were riches aplenty behind her. Enough to set her up for life. She would never have to steal again, never have to sleep on the street or flee from an irate merchant or escape from a jail cell. All her dreams lay behind her, waiting on the shelves, ripe for the plucking.
It was a simple decision. She stepped through the door after Twilight and never looked back.




The darkness beyond the second door was profound. Even for a thief used to operating in the shadows of night, the sensation of blindness was startling. Cold, clammy air rubbed against her skin like a wet cloth, instantly setting her teeth to chattering. The unforgettable scent of death filled her nostrils — death that was old and buried and forgotten centuries before Sly had been born. Her hooves skidded on a thin layer of grit covering the uneven flagstones.
In the distance ahead, so faint she might have dreamed it, a purple light vanished around a corner. She charged toward it, heedless of the darkness and the obstacles it concealed.
“Wait!” she cried. The call echoed back from the vast space hidden around her. “Twilight!” She nearly ran headlong into the edge of the cavern or hall or whatever chamber they were in. A distant part of her mind noted that they had already crossed into Curalmil's tomb, and were fair game for whatever hideous monsters dwelled within. The greater part of her mind cared only for finding the light in the darkness.
A passage, dimly lit by a purple spark, split off from the chamber to her left. She pushed away from the wall and ran toward the light as fast as her hooves would take her, ignoring drifts of dust and hanging mosses that fell into her path. She ducked under, around and through torn banners and curtains, rotting flags, collapsed shelves and decaying piles of wood. A fallen stone, invisible in the shadows, sent her tumbling to the ground; she let her momentum carry her into a roll and back to her hooves. Her shoulder and side stung from a nasty scrape, but the pain barely registered as she desperately pursued the light.
She turned another corner and nearly plowed into Twilight. A quick sidestep prevented an unfortunate collision, instead sending her crashing into the decrepit remains of an armor stand. Ancient iron helmets, breastplates and other assorted pieces of barding crashed to the floor with a clatter, followed shortly by Sly herself. She spent a dazed moment on the floor, then looked up at the source of the violet light. Twilight, her horn aglow, sat on her haunches and stared at her with a look of silent exasperation.
“Er, hello,” Sly said sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought you were further away than this.”
Twilight sighed. The light of her horn seemed to dim in response to her mood. “I told you to go home, Sly. This isn't your fight. It isn't your war.”
“But it is!” Sly insisted. She clamored to her hooves, accidentally kicking a horned helmet down the corridor. Hopefully Curalmil was hard of hearing. “The whole reason we came is to defeat the dragons again, and you need a Dragonborn for that! Dragonborn, like me!” she pleaded.
“You're not—“
“You don't know that!” Sly interrupted. She pushed forward until her snout nearly brushed against Twilight's. “Celestia may not believe me, but what does she know? She hasn't been out here! She hasn't gone through this!”
Twilight took a step back, putting some space between them. For a long moment, she looked at Sly, her eyes filled with a range of emotions. Anger, annoyance and disappointment warred with trust, concern and compassion.
Finally, the best emotion Sly could have hoped for under the circumstances broke through. Twilight's mouth twitched, and she began to shake. The light of her horn brightened, and for the first time since they had entered the accursed tomb, Twilight laughed. Despite the grim circumstances – deep below the surface, mangled, beaten, blinded and burned, about to face a fourth undead horror – Twilight laughed.
Sly gawked at her in confusion. Laughter was pretty low on the list of responses she'd been expecting, somewhere between physical assault and a declaration of undying love, though of the three, it certainly wasn't the worst. The sound was contagious, and after a few moments, Sly found herself laughing as well, caring not for whatever ears in the darkness might be listening.
“The... the Dragonborn...” Twilight finished with a snicker. “Do you know how many ponies have showed up in Canterlot, claiming to be the Dragonborn? I checked before we left: twenty-seven. Twenty-seven stallions and mares from all walks of life. Wizards, warriors, bards, scholars, even a few less savory types.” She gave Sly a meaningful look. “But you were the first one we actually arrested.
“More to the point,” she continued before Sly could interrupt. “Celestia sends everypony who claims to be Dragonborn on a quest of some sort. Most ponies decline and go back to whatever it was they were doing before they showed up in Canterlot. Of the few who accepted, most never returned. They either gave up or died trying.”
Sly jerked back. “Quests... like this? You said you've never been adventuring before.”
“Oh, I haven't. Celestia wanted to wait until we had someone we could trust for this task... Trust or influence, in your case,” she added, ducking her head. “We had always planned to use one of the Dragonborn claimants to help recover the Wind's Eye. I just didn't expect it to be you... no offense, but I thought it would be somepony a bit more... ah, heroic.”
Heroic? Sly drew herself up, an indignant response starting to form on her lips before Twilight cut her off.
“I know, I'm sorry,” she said. “But remember, we found you in a jail. And that was before I saw you fighting that dragon, much less against the brothers. If I'd known you then like I do now...” She sighed quietly, her amused expression slipping. “Well, I would've been a lot kinder when we met. Again, I'm sorry.”
They were quiet for a moment following Twilight's apology. In the silence, Sly began to doubt the wisdom of holding an extended, heartfelt discussion in the middle of a cursed crypt. Feelings were important, especially hers, but there was a time and a place for everything, and the best time and place for this were somewhere else.
On the other hoof, an opportunity like this might not come along again for a while. “So, you think I might be the Dragonborn after all?”
Twilight appeared to think about her answer. “I think you would make a great Dragonborn,” she finally said.
That wasn't quite the response Sly had hoped for, but it was close. “Good, that's settled then.” She paused for a moment, looking around the dark corridor. “So, uh... where are we?”
Twilight turned to face the far end of the corridor, filling the empty stone hallway with her light. Aside from a few pieces of armor knocked over in Sly's rush to catch up, there was little to see. Far ahead, at the edge of the light, the corridor turned again.
“You're the expert here,” Twilight said. Her voice was lower than before, as though she too was remembering the inherent peril of their situation. “Nothing here looks like a crypt, though. It's more like...” she trailed off, an unsettled expression on her face.
“More like what?”
“This will sound odd, but... it's more like the hallways back home. Back in Canterlot.” She frowned again, and examined the bits of armor littering the floor with a sharper eye.
Like Canterlot. Hadn't she said the same thing about Theostre's museum? Just like the palace.
“I've been in catacombs before, some almost as large as this,” Sly said, stepping her way around the knocked-down pieces of armor. Her horn glowed as she used her magic to straighten a nearby tapestry that had fallen half off its moorings, revealing an elaborate image of stylized ponies battling griffons in a high mountain valley. Whatever nameless artist had woven the tapestry was a master of his craft – thin lines of gold thread, still brilliant and untarnished, outlined the faceless warriors, standing them out in sharp relief against a muted background of emerald and sapphire hues. Sly admired the artwork for a moment, then spent several more considering its value per pound. Too big to carry, she decided. Maybe on the way out.
She realized Twilight was waiting for her to finish. “But nothing like this,” she added, waving a hoof at the tapestry and the treasures spilled on the floor. “This isn't like the crypts upstairs. This isn't a place you would bury ponies in.”
“You think it's like Theostre's museum?”
“Kinda... minus Theostre, hopefully,” Sly said. One immortal lich was enough for the world. She let the tapestry fall back against the wall.
At the end of the tunnel, she could faintly make out the shape of another door. She sighed quietly and motioned for Twilight to follow. “Come on, let's keep moving.” Twilight gave the tapestry a quick glance as she passed, and they continued deeper into the crypt.




The passageway ended in another door — Sly had long since lost count of how many doors they had passed through since entering the crypt. Doorways marked their days and nights, their victories and brushes with death. Doors marked with plaques, doors sealed by runes, doors unused and forgotten by the passage of centuries. The sight of another, plain and unadorned, filled her with the same bleak numbness as the last. No fear, no terror, no apprehension, only numb resignation to another threshold and passage into something new, unforgiving and unknown.
If Twilight shared her resignation, she hid it well. She only sighed at the sight of the door, and after a brief glance at Sly, her horn glowed with magic as she opened it. Together they stepped through into the new darkness.
It was immense, whatever cavern they were in. Smooth, flat walls extended to either side, broken at even intervals by soaring pillars that vanished into the depths above Twilight's light. Flagstones, cut into perfect squares of polished marble, rang beneath their hooves. Once again, Sly was struck with the impression that she had walked into a copy of Celestia's palace rather than a tomb.
Twilight must have felt the same way, judging by the expression on her face. "This... I've seen this place," she said, her voice filled with soft wonder. Her horn glowed again, and a brilliant lavender spark leapt into the air, bursting high overhead to fill the expansive room with light.
It was a throne room.
The hall stretched impossibly far to each side. The ceiling was a dim shadow high above them; Sly couldn't even guess at its true height. The amount of stone removed to craft such an empty space boggled her mind -- excavating this room alone, much less the rest of the tomb, would have resulted in a mountain's worth of rock. What sort of pony spent such a ruinous amount of effort on a tomb? On something that benefited only the dead? Who was Curalmil, that ponies would craft such a monument in his name?
The answer lay before them. A throne, one larger than any pony except perhaps Celestia could have used, sat atop a towering dais in the center of the room. Tattered, rotting flags lined the steps leading to it from the floor, honoring past glories whose names only historians could remember. The throne stood like a gravestone atop a cairn, a final memorial for a pony who ruled half the world centuries before Sly's birth.
So great and imposing was the throne that Sly nearly missed the object at the base of the dais. Looking small and unimportant next to the grandeur of the throne, a tiny altar rested on the stones before them, guarded by the wasted, desiccated form of an earth pony's corpse. Sly’s bow was up and drawn on the body even as her eyes adjusted to the new light.
"Wait," Twilight said, an instant before Sly released her arrow. There was a pause — Twilight stared intently at the corpse; Nightfall shook slightly in Sly's magical grip.
"Curalmil?" Sly whispered. She took a hesitant half-step backwards. The bow creaked in her magical grip as she drew it even tighter.
"I don't think so." Twilight advanced carefully, being sure not to place herself between the corpse and Sly's bow. Her hoofsteps, loud against the marble flagstones, echoed back to them from the distant expanse of the throne room. Nothing else moved.
"It's a mare," Twilight said after a moment of study, her voice rising in surprise. "I don't... it doesn't look like a draugr, either."
Sly edged closer. Both statements were true - the corpse was female, to judge by its smaller stature and delicate facial structure. Whatever colors her mane had been were faded in death to a uniform, translucent grey, matched by the dusty shade of her coat. A faint shape on her flank might have been the remains of an ancient cutie mark, or simply a result of uneven decay in the cool, dry air of the tomb. Either way, she appeared to be sleeping the sleep of the truly dead, not the cursed unrest of a draugr. Sly crept up to the body and slowly relaxed her grip on Nightfall.
"So young..." she whispered. Indeed, the mare was just barely more than a filly, smaller even than Sly herself. Whatever clothes the mare had died in were long since rotted away, leaving only a simple silver pendant, now tarnished a mottled grey, around her neck.
Twilight didn't seem to hear her. She had moved past the corpse and was inspecting the tiny altar at the base of the steps. It was a simple affair; a plain block of some unidentifiable stone held a few candles, rotted away to almost nothing, as well as three elaborate scroll tubes. Twilight gently lifted the leftmost tube and floated it towards them. Unlike the pony guarding it, the tube was still in fairly good condition. The red enamel was covered with a lattice of hairline cracks, but otherwise it had weathered the centuries well. Stylized pictures of pegasi cavorting in the air decorated its glossy surface.
Twilight visibly shook as she unscrewed the endcap. Sly realized with a start that the scroll was the closest thing to a treasure for the librarian, more so than any of the jewels or artifacts in the previous rooms of the crypt. The scroll was knowledge, and knowledge was Twilight's greatest prize.
Unfortunately, it was also fragile. As soon as the endcap popped free, a trickle of dust sifted out of the tube, followed by tiny flakes of paper, all that remained of the scroll within. Twilight let out a quiet wail at the sight and set the tube back on the altar. Sly bit her lip, suffering a sympathetic pang for her companion.
"Are they all like that?" Sly asked. She stepped carefully around the corpse toward the altar.
"Oh Celestia, I hope not," Twilight said. "Maybe... maybe that one was just bad." She let out a deep breath and levitated the second tube. Her face was a study in concentration — eyes wide, tongue peeking out between her teeth, ears plastered flat against her skull. Sly realized she was staring and had to force her gaze back to the scroll tube. Twilight was too focused on the scroll to notice Sly's blush.
The endcap slowly rotated, unscrewing itself from the blue enamel tube. This one was decorated with unicorns, Sly noted, apparently dancing around swirls of wind. With a quiet pop, the endcap separated, revealing the scroll within.
It had survived. They both exhaled as Twilight carefully pulled the parchment from the tube and unrolled it in the air before her.
"Huh... it's written in Middle Equuish," Twilight said. She frowned at the paper.
"So? Didn't you say that's what everypony spoke back then?"
"Sort of. Middle Equuish sounds almost the same as modern Equuish, just with a different written alphabet. But all those plaques were in Old Equuish... I guess I assumed these would be too."
Sly tried to wrap her head around that, without much success. "Well, what does it say?"
"Um, one second... It reads like a letter. The middle of a letter." Twilight's eyes scanned the scroll rapidly, then darted back to the top. She took a breath and began reciting.


oooOOOooo

In the end it was not enough, father. Despite your admonitions, they went to war not even a day after your death. Your body still lay in state in the capital, and Ageund was moving his armies, Cianim readying his spies, and Theostre preparing his spells.
Ageund struck first. His armies took the city without a fight, as the garrison commander pledged his fealty to him. Thus he was the first to claim the jewel.
I see now why you didn't tell us about it, father. Such a terrible weapon it is — double edged, cutting the wielder even as it slays foes. Perhaps Ageund guessed its use, or he simply voiced a passing wish, but in an instant he became a monster, a thing of death, the greatest, strongest warrior to ever live. Gone was the handsome, daring, clever pony I played with as a filly. None of him survived. The monster-that-was-Ageund had no need for anything but strength and brutality. Thousands of innocent ponies died as he played with his new power.
I was almost relieved when Cianim's assassins slew him. I thought the dying would end. I thought Cianim would restore order to your empire, and that we could move on. I thought he would preserve your legacy.
I was wrong. In front of your entire court, Cianim wished for infinite connections, for a web of knowledge and spies and lies and truth and everything in between. How the jewel interpreted that to make him into the monster he became, I cannot say. I think the jewel does not understand ponies. I think the soul burning inside it views the universe through a very different window than we.
Hundreds fell to Cianim's hunger. Your castle became his lair, haunted by the spirits of the dead. For months he terrorized the city before Theostre confronted him.
Do you remember when you forbade Theostre to study magic, father? He disobeyed you. Even as you still lived he disobeyed you. The petty spells you caught him practicing? They were nothing, cantrips compared to the spells of war he mastered. He is not a mere magician, father. He is a warlock, a necromancer. His power comes from blood.
But still we cheered when he destroyed Cianim. Not even I shed a tear for my little brother, who played hide-and-seek with me in your chambers. Cianim the pony died long before Cianim the monster.
And then there was only Theostre. He pulled the jewel from Cianim's burning corpse and wished for eternal life. He died, and then he rose, undying.
Do you remember the tales of the draugr, father? Undead warriors, forced to stand guard for eternity over the graves of their masters. That is what he became, and he laughed. I will never forget how he laughed when he realized his curse. His curse and his joy, for the jewel grants one wish per lifetime. His curse and his joy, for in death he lived anew; in death he found a second lifetime and a second wish.
He did not use the second wish immediately. Why would he? He had only expected one, and immortality is a fine thing. Perhaps in a thousand years he would need to wish again, so he saved it.


oooOOOooo

Sly leaned forward. "And?"
Twilight licked her lips nervously. "That's the end of the scroll." She glanced at the third tube, resting on the altar. Her horn glowed and it lifted into the air. Sly saw stylized images of earth ponies laboring on its gold surface.
"Gently, gently..." Twilight whispered as she unscrewed the endcap. It opened as easily as the second tube, and she floated the scroll within out into the air before them.


oooOOOooo

He taunted me with the wish, father. He offered to give me the jewel, if only I could outlive him. As generous as ever, our Theostre.
Still I hoped. With only one of your heirs left, perhaps the war would end. Perhaps Theostre, cruel and terrible as he was, could be our eternal emperor, our god-king. Perhaps we could finally know peace.
Again I was wrong. He treated your kingdom as his personal laboratory. Thousands of souls he absorbed for his necromancy. Entire villages vanished in flames, tests for his weapons. For an entire week, the sun failed to rise as he tried to master ancient Celestia's powers.
What else could I do, father? I know you never wanted a daughter, that my birth was your greatest disappointment. I know you disapproved of my sneaking, of my thieving and cunning. I know you wanted more from me.
But I used those skills, father. I stole the jewel from him. I stole the Wind's Eye, and brought it here, to your tiny tomb, in the remains of your broken down palace, beneath your old throne. I will wish for a mausoleum worthy of your greatness, father, guarded forever by your sons. I will wish for the jewel to remain here, with you again. And I will stay here as well, for though I hate them, they are my brothers, and we are a family, and I will share this fate.
Forgive me, father. Forgive us. We were poor heirs for your greatness. We are sad, shallow things, still children, grasping at the treasures you spent a lifetime building. If, in some distant life, you should somehow read these words, know that I loved you. We all did.
Your daughter,
Sovyn Senin Curalmil


oooOOOooo

Sly stared at the tiny corpse lying before the altar as Twilight finished reading the letter. Her features softened in time with a well of pity rising in her heart.
"This isn't a tomb in the shape of a palace," Twilight said. She carefully rolled the scroll up and slid it back into the tube, then reverently set it upon the altar. "It is Curalmil's palace. She wished it into a tomb."
"She could have had anything," Sly said softly. "She could have used the wish on herself. Escaped, gone away..." she trailed off. How is this fair? she thought angrily. Why did the only pony who used the wish for good end up alone, dying in the dark, sealed in a tomb with her murderous kin?
"This was it, then," Twilight said. "The last wish. The jewel must be here."
The damn wish again. Sly snorted quietly and nosed open her saddlebags, pulling out one of their travel blankets. Her horn glowed with its weak silver light, and the blanket settled over Sovyn's body. Her death seemed somehow more dignified, draped beneath the cloth. Though Curalmil's daughter was long past caring, the tiny act of dignity eased the pang in Sly's chest.
When she looked up, Twilight was staring at her with an odd expression. "What?" she asked, a bit more abruptly than she intended.
"Nothing," Twilight said. "I... no, nevermind." She glanced at the shrouded corpse, then turned to face the throne. They spent some time lost in thought, each contemplating the objects before them: Twilight the throne, Sly the blanket and the corpse beneath. They kept their insights to themselves.




A tall passageway led deeper into the earth behind the throne room. Judging by the size of the archway, it was either meant for very tall ponies, or to impress those who passed through it with their own insignificance. Sly felt every inch of her short stature as she studied the precisely cut blocks. Rotting banners, bearing crests rendered illegible with the passing of time, flanked the entrance.
“Hey, Twi?” Sly said, her eyes still on the banners. Twilight paused ahead of her and turned, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. “What kind of pony was Curalmil?”
“Well, there aren't many surviving contemporary accounts of his rule,” Twilight said. Her ears perked up as she slipped into academic mode. “In fact, surprisingly few, considering how large his empire was. Most sources considered him a strong, smart warrior who became a decent and just ruler. As far as specifics, though,” she said and shrugged, “we don't have much to go on.”
“Nothing about him personally?” Sly asked. She stopped a few dozen paces into the passageway and examined a faded wall-mounted map in the light of Twilight's horn. It was of Equestria, she realized – the mountains, lakes and coast were unchanged over the centuries, though the countries depicted on it were unknown to her. One, the largest, spread across the center of the map, where the Everfree Forest now existed.
Twilight shook her head mutely. “I'm afraid not. After he died, everything fell into civil war. His children were more interested in their own grab for power than preserving his empire.”
Sly frowned. “Not all of his children,” she mumbled.
Twilight ducked her head slightly, but otherwise didn't acknowledge Sly's remark.
Sly trotted a few paces deeper into the passageway. Aside from the glint of light on the metal torch holders, there was no sign of anything in the corridor. Just plain stone stretching deeper into the earth. 
“How many times has the jewel been used?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Twilight paused for a brief moment. “Seven, if Sovyn's letter is correct. Cloud Fire, Luna, Curalmil, Ageund, Cianim, Theostre, and Sovyn, in order.” She rattled the names off rapidly, as though reading them from a mental list.
Sly nodded absently. She had already assembled the same list in her head, albeit more slowly. Ahead of her the passageway began to slope downward. A cold draft wafted up the corridor from the darkness, setting her mane on end.
“How many of those seven got what they wished for?” she asked. “What they expected?”
Twilight paused again, longer this time. She walked up alongside Sly and peered down the gentle slope before answering. “That depends on how you define 'expected,' but at least three. Cloud Fire spent months preparing his wish and got exactly what he wanted. It wasn't enough to save his life, but he probably didn't consider his life very valuable compared to stopping the dragons.
“We don't know exactly what Curalmil wished for,” she continued, “but he ruled the largest empire in the world just a year after finding the jewel. It's reasonable to assume that was his wish.”
“And Sovyn?” Sly asked, taking a guess at the third name.
Twilight glanced at her, then back down the lightless corridor. “Sovyn planned her wish and seems to have gotten it, though she apparently didn't care about her own life either. Or, rather, she cared about something else more than her own life.”
“What about the others?” Sly took a careful step down the sloping path. The air pooling around her hooves felt cold and oily against her coat. She suppressed a shiver and pushed forward into the darkness.
“Well, most of them got exactly what they wished for, just not what they expected. Again, wishes are dangerous like that.” Twilight hesitated, then followed Sly down the slope. The cobblestones ended a few feet down, reverting to the packed earth usually found on the floor of a crypt. Sly got the feeling they were no longer in anything resembling a palace.
They were quiet again as they walked. The passageway narrowed, and the walls slowly turned back to the rough, natural stone of a catacomb, rather than the carefully worked walls of a palace corridor. Trickles of water running down the rock sparkled at them from either side. Several times they passed an alcove carved into the walls, in which rested the rotted remains of a long-dead pony.
And we're back to a crypt. Sly drew her sword as a precautionary measure. Nothing had threatened them since leaving Theostre's museum, but this was definitely draugr territory.
In the distance ahead of them Sly could barely make out a faint orange glow. A brazier, filled with burning coals that cast a fiery light on their surroundings, stood in silent warning as they rounded a corner. A haphazard spill of bones littered the floor, intermixed with the occasional ancient piece of armor. Behind them the corridor sloped up and vanished into the darkness. Whatever measure of protection Sovyn provided was long since past.
“You want to know what was so different about the ponies who got their wishes, and those who were destroyed by their wishes,” Twilight said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Haven't you wondered?” Sly asked as she crept forward, carefully examining the floor. One of the stones was a slightly different color than the rest. She looked up, and sure enough, a series of holes in the ceiling pointed down at anypony unfortunate enough to step on the pressure plate.
Twilight stepped up beside her, staring at the discolored stone curiously. “Trap?”
“Yup. Pressure plate. You step on it and poison darts or spears or flames shoot out and kill you.” She backed off a few paces and levitated a nearby rock over the plate. Twilight's eyes widened and she stepped back nervously. Sly waited until she was clear, then let the rock fall.
It landed with a loud crack. Nothing else happened. Twilight glanced at her, a questioning look on her face.
“Er...” Sly coughed. “Probably too old. These things don't last forever.”
“Right.” Twilight shook her head the tiniest bit, but walked around the plate, rather than over it. “Anyway, the wishes. Yes, I wondered, but that's almost as dangerous as fantasizing about the wish itself. The ones that worked were the ones that were carefully planned, and two of those three ponies ended up dead shortly after using the jewel. I don't know that the Wind's Eye has ever actually made anyone happy.”
“It won a war!” Sly protested. “It defeated the dragons!” She hopped over the trap to catch up with Twilight.
“That was a victory?” Twilight asked. “Cloud Fire died. Luna died. Celestia vanished for half a thousand years. Her kingdom collapsed, and Equestria fell into a dark ages for several centuries. I hope that's not how we defeat the dragons this time.”
We can sacrifice the next Dragonborn for another thousand years of peace. Theostre's offer, casual and terrrible, reared up in her mind. Lost in thought, she tripped on an unseen fragment of bone, catching herself with her hooves just before her knees hit the ground. It barely mattered – her legs were a patchwork of scrapes and cuts, of dark earth and blood smeared roughly over her sky blue pelt. She spent a moment looking at her legs in desultory wonder, then sighed and trotted to catch up with Twilight. The catacombs twisted ahead of them; a brazier beyond the next turn shed weak light on the crumbling walls.
She let Twilight lead while she thought. Did Cloud Fire expect to die? Did Celestia care at all if he did? Luna obviously cared, but the same love she felt for Cloud Fire had driven her to lash out at her sister. What would Celestia do if another Dragonborn came to her bearing the jewel? Would history repeat itself, minus the messy coda that was Luna's revenge?
Twilight was not the only mare who brooded as they walked through the forsaken corridor.




More doors and more corridors. The catacombs never seemed to end, each passageway leading to another just as empty and desolate and filled with the reek of dry death. Sly struggled to remember the last time she had felt clean, the last time she had tasted fresh water or seen the sun. Ponies weren't meant to be underground this long. Ponies could go crazy down here.
She trudged forward with Twilight Sparkle at her heels, barely cognizant of the world around her. Every step seemed to coat her with more dust, clogging her eyes and nostrils and mane. Some of the dust was undoubtedly the desiccated remains of the bodies around them. She tried to breath as lightly as possible around the alcoves.
They rounded another corridor, and the walls opened out, forming a broader section of hallway ending in a large circular door. Alcoves studded the walls, filled with bodies in varying states of decay. Sly glanced around suspiciously at the corpses, but none woke at their presence.
Twilight didn't give the bodies a second glance. Instead she trotted down the hall to the circular door and inspected it closely, her ears perked up and forward as they always seemed to do when she was faced with a puzzle. A series of pictures decorated the doorway – a pegasus, unicorn and earth pony, all on a wide ring surrounding a large stone rune.
“This is different,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed, and the ring of pictures turned, the pegasus replacing the unicorn in the topmost position. “It's not like the other sealed doors.”
“Is it magic?” Sly gave the pictures a quick look, then turned back to the corridors, searching for traps. As best she could tell, there were none.
“No, it's mechanical. Very simple actually. You just turn it so the correct pony is on top and push the rune.”
“And which one is correct?” Unicorn, she hoped.
Twilight shrugged. “Curalmil was an earth pony.” Her horn glowed again, and the ring rotated, replacing the pegasus with the earth pony. When the ring settled, she reached out a hoof and gave the rune a firm push.
Several things happened at once.
First, the door began to open. Either Twilight had guessed correctly or it didn't matter what position the ring was in. A loud rumble shook the corridor as hidden gears and axles turned, and the huge door slowly sank into the floor.
Second, and of more immediate importance to Sly, the bodies in the alcoves around them came to life. She had just enough time to raise her bow when the braziers providing all of their light went out, as though they were candles suddenly snuffed out. The sound of dust and stones falling to the ground mixed with the unsettling moans of the dead.
“Draugr!” she shouted to Twilight, dropping her bow. It was of no use in the darkness, much less against foes already close enough to touch. The weapon was still falling when her sword cleared its sheath, lashing out in a vicious horizontal arc in the direction of the nearest alcove. She felt it connect with something brittle, followed by a loud grunt as a draugr collapsed at her hooves.
Twilight reacted almost as quickly. Sly felt a warm body press up against her side, and the corridor filled with a brilliant purple light, revealing no fewer than seven draugr all shambling toward them. The one she had wounded slowly clamored back to its hooves, using its sword as a crutch. Its leg remained on the floor, severed neatly just above the knee by her wild swing.
At last, a problem with a simple solution. Sly grinned at the nearest warrior, her sword already returning to a guard position in front of her. “Twilight, are you—” she started.
“I'm fine,” Twilight interrupted her. “Take your side.”
How long had it been since Twilight had stared in shock at the dead cockatrice, unable to lift a hoof in her own defense? Less than a week, Sly realized. Such an incredible transformation – she would have given it more thought, but the draugr in front of her had other plans. She stepped to the side, barely avoiding a wicked downward slash from a battleaxe that would have split her in half had it landed.
She had transformed too. Four draugr stood close enough for her to touch. The smallest of them easily doubled her weight, even before its ponderous armor and weapons. She was like a child to them, and should have fled in the face of their ancient weapons and evil presence. A week ago she would have. Instead she smiled and began to dance.
The nobles of Canterlot would not have recognized her dance, but it was graceful all the same. She stepped cleanly around the draugr wielding the battleaxe, her left hoof lashing out in a sharp, controlled motion to shatter its jaw against the shaft. It reared back, dropping the axe, and her sword passed cleanly through its neck. Body and head fell to the ground, ignored, as she turned to the next target.
What were you, in life? she wondered as it stepped toward her. It was smaller than the axe-wielder and held a long, pitted sword in its jaws. She parried its first blow, then ducked under the second, her ears flattening just in time to avoid being trimmed. Before it could strike again she stepped alongside it, her sword plunging deep into its chest and twisting as it found the unbeating heart. She was already moving when it shuddered and collapsed. Two to go.
The air began to hum as as she turned to the next draugr, and her mane stood on end, each individual hair lifting away from the others toward the unseen sky. She felt her tail begin to do the same, and a tiny voice warned her to close her eyes. A moment later a blinding flash filled the corridor, accompanied by a tremendous clap that shook the stone floor and left her head ringing. The tang of ozone and stench of charred flesh filled her nose. Yes, Twilight has definitely changed.
The draugr appeared stunned by the blast. The nearest bore a spear in its mouth; she ran past it, casually rapping its helmet with the flat of her blade, disorienting it some more and buying her time to reach the second draugr, an archer. Her sword stabbed forward, slicing easily through the creature's bowstring. The ancient bow snapped in half as the energy stored in its limbs instantly and catastrophically released. She snatched one of the halves out of the air with her magic and smashed it against the draugr's skull, knocking it down. Before it could recover, the tip of her sword stabbed through its neck, neatly pinning it to the ground. It twitched once, then went still.
Was it some sin or crime that earned you this curse? The dance continued with the final draugr, now behind her. She stepped to the side, avoiding its stabbing spear – some instinct warned her to move at just the right time. The spear tip grazed her side, drawing a thin line of blood. She grimaced, more in annoyance than pain, then turned and stepped forward, forcing it to retreat. The spear came around in a clumsy swing that she casually deflected, and she lashed out again with her sword. One blow was all she needed.
Four draugr lay in six pieces around her. Aside from the scratch on her side, she hadn't been touched. She didn't even break a sweat.
Twilight was almost done with her draugr, Sly saw. Only one remained, crushed against the stone wall by a mass of black tentacles, the same as Theostre had used against her. Sly's eyes widened as the tentacles convulsed around the draugr's neck with a loud crack, and the pony went still.
Twilight let out a quiet breath, and the tentacles vanished, dropping the draugr to the floor. Two other bodies already lay before her, both blackened and twisted almost beyond recognition.
“That spell...” Sly stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Twilight glanced at her. Tiny violet sparks rose from her glowing horn.
“Just something Theostre taught me,” she said. After a pause, she added, “Spells are spells, Sly. They aren't inherently good or evil. How you use them is.”
“Oh... which was that?”
Twilight glanced down at the fallen draugr. Its head had been twisted almost completely around, and barely hung onto the rest of its body.
“Let's go with indifferent,” she said.
Sly remembered the feeling of Theostre's magic gripping her throat as it slowly crushed the life from her. Had Theostre believed magic was neither good nor evil when he drove a black soul gem into his forehead? Had he cared?
Her brooding nearly earned her another trip to the floor as her hoof rolled over the huge battleaxe that had nearly split her in two. The severed head of its former wielder rested nearby.
Stop being silly, she scolded herself. Dead is dead. Killing with a spell is no better or worse than with a sword. On that note, she floated her blade back into its scabbard. Its edge was still as clean as when she had found it in Ageund's sarcophagus, completely free of blood, ichor or pieces of the draugr she had slain. Hardly normal behavior for a sword, but little about this adventure was normal. She put the blade out of her mind as she retrieved Nightfall, and together with Twilight walked through the open door.




The final chamber had seen better days. Of the huge columns supporting the distant ceiling, several had cracked and collapsed, leaning like fallen trees against the walls and their neighbors. Mounds of rubble covered half the floor like rolling hills, holding crushed sarcophagi amongst their tons of broken stones. A thin layer of fog swirled around their hooves, mirrored by a cloud-like layer high above their heads. Only the walls and teetering columns remained unshrouded, seeming to float in the mist. Though the haze Sly could barely see a raised platform in the center of the hall, atop which rested a simple stone bier.
Sly crouched low to the floor, her chin sinking into the swirls of mist. The fog smelled like wet stones.
“Sly...” Twilight's voice sounded behind her, barely louder than a whisper. She paused, her hoof held in the air, just about to step toward the raised bier.
“Yes?” she whispered back. The steady drip of water in the distance nearly drowned her out.
“If anything... bad... happens, remember when I said about the wish.” Twilight's tone was even and flat, as featureless as the mists.
“Nothing bad will happen.” The words came out more heated than Sly intended. Her upraised hoof trembled slightly.
“I know,” Twilight said. “But if anything does—“
“I said, nothing bad will happen!” Sly hissed. The hoof came down with a loud crack that echoed repeatedly in the chamber. For a moment all other sounds – the drip drop of water, the rustle of air, the harsh sound of her breathing in her ears – were subsumed by the report.
Stupid, Sly reprimanded herself. Stupid stupid stupid. She turned back to apologize, but the expression on Twilight's face arrested her. It was the soft, forgiving look her mother often wore whenever Sly had done something foalish, taking her games of stealth and hiding too far. It was a familiar expression, and it cut straight to her heart.
They were silent again, staring at each other through the tenebrous mists. Eventually Sly looked away.
"Just remember," Twilight said. "Promise me."
Sly tried to speak and found she couldn't.  She nodded instead, and turned back to the coffin in the center of the room.
It was unimposing, unimpressive. For all the days they had spent fighting their way to this one chamber, it was almost a disappointment to finally behold. Merely simple stone, unworked beyond an uneven smoothing, as though its craftspony had been in an unseemly hurry to complete it. No runes, no inscriptions, no filigrees decorated its surface. Only stone, blank and featureless as the mists around them. We nearly died for this? The thought came unbidden, and she pushed it desperately to the back of her mind. They had more important things to focus on.
She lifted Nightfall from her back and held it level with the floor, just above the layer of mist concealing her hooves. With a simple thought she nocked an arrow on its string, ready to draw it and let fly at the first sign of anything dangerous. She let out a breath, motioned with her hoof for Twilight to stay back, and then carefully, slowly took a step toward the raised platform in the center of the chamber.
The instant her hoof touched the floor, the sarcophagus exploded.
Sly let out a startled scream as the room shook. She fell to the floor and curled her forelegs over her head, managing to block most of the tiny bits of stone that rained down upon them. The mists concealing the floor flowed away from the blast like water and splashed against the walls. Nightfall clattered to the ground beside her, the arrow on its string falling free and rolling a few inches over the stones before coming to a stop.
Move! her instincts warned her to look up, warring with the more sensible part of her mind that insisted on curling into a ball until the loud noises stopped. High above her the massive stone lid that had covered the sarcophagus spun like a leaf, soaring through the air in an arc that vanished into the clouds of mist. A moment later it reappeared and fell toward the floor like the world’s largest playing card. The crash of its landing was nearly as loud as the original explosion, and shook the chamber again, cracking the stone floor and toppling a nearby column. Twilight, who had somehow managed to stay on her hooves after the explosion, stumbled to her knees. Chips of rock shot through the air, stinging her exposed pelt.
A cloud of dust filled half the room, centered on the platform and the remains of the bier. Slowly, slowly it settled, spreading throughout the chamber to join the drifting mists, forming a thicker fog that shrouded all sight. The rows of columns stretched away in the darkness; the walls vanished from view. And in the center of the room, atop the platform, something moved.
A dark shape slowly stood, little more than a silhouette in the gloom. Its head turned toward them, and bright blue sparks lit the dust from within as the point of its sword dragged across the stone. The blade looked longer than Sly’s entire body, from the tip of her snout to the end of her tail.
Days ago, during their first true battle in the crypt, they had waited for Ageund to strike first and nearly died because of it. Sly refused to make that mistake again. She jumped forward onto a pile of stones at the edge of the cloud of dust, barely a dozen yards from the draugr’s unmoving form. The dry, dusty air scratched her lungs as she inhaled. She focused on her breath, and the power of her soul set her words on fire as she Shouted.
“FUS!” The word exploded from her, blasting the cloud of dust apart and revealing the monster within. It was tall for a pony, though not so much as Ageund, or as heavily muscled. His armor was far lighter than the steel plates chained to Ageund’s monstrous form, and his sword was a slender, agile weapon, meant for the skillful strike that killed instantly, rather than the hacking blows of Ageund’s waraxe.
The draugr — Curalmil, she assumed — staggered as the Shout hit him. His head snapped back, and he nearly dropped the sword from his mouth. An armored crown rested atop his mane, bearing a pair of finely worked metal antlers that ended in glinting spikes. In the center of the crown, barely visible in the darkness, a jewel the size of a goose’s egg flashed with a never ending series of images. She imagined it was a star, winking at her in the night.
“Get down!” Twilight yelled. An ugly red light filled the room, replacing the cold blue-grey of the mists with a hellish smokey glare. Sly dropped to her belly an instant before a tiny ember, barely larger than a grain of sand, streaked over her head like a shooting star toward Curalmil. Her mane curled in the heat from its passage.
Curalmil recovered from the Shout faster than Sly thought possible. His head whipped around, bringing the sword with it in a clean arc that intercepted the ember just feet away from his body. The spark split in two and shot into the darkness behind him. A moment later both halves detonated, filling the room with a rush of scalding air and yet more light.
Sly slowly stood, her mind working furiously to come up with a plan B. Over the ragged sound of her own breathing, she heard hooves on stone as Twilight walked up beside her. Together they stared at Curalmil. He stared back in absolute silence. The light of the fires died, and she could make out the twin sparks that were his eyes burning beneath his antlered crown.
He moved first. With a sharp twist of his neck, he speared his sword into the floor. The metal tip stabbed easily through the stone, as though it were the softest clay, and stood in place. A rasping, rumbling sound shook Sly’s ears, and she realized he was laughing.
The laughter trailed off and was replaced by his voice. “Impressive, little pony,” he said in a dry hiss that sounded like sandpaper on glass. “But you have to use all the words.” He inhaled, his head tilting back slightly as his chest expanded.
“Fus ro DAH!”
Sly’s eyes widened at the first word, and she tossed herself desperately to the side, not caring that she fell and rolled over a pile of sharp rocks and stones that bit into her side. All that mattered was getting out of the way. Twilight must have sensed her panic, for her horn glowed even before Curalmil finished the Shout. A sparkling purple shield, like the one she had used against the dragon, appeared in front of her.
Against dragon fire, or mundane weapons, or even necromantic spells, Twilight’s shield would have worked. As powerful as she was, almost nothing should have been able to penetrate it. But the Shout was a special form of magic, older than mortals, nearly as old as time, and the flaming blue shockwave that burst from Curalmil’s mouth passed through her shield like a knife through silk. It lifted her up and tossed her like a doll through the air, past the tall columns, and into the hard, unforgiving stone walls. She hung there limply, then fell to the floor, followed by an avalanche of stones knocked free from the wall. 
Sly stumbled to her hooves, scrabbling over the rocks away from Curalmil and toward Twilight. She stopped when she saw the pile of rubble and Twilight’s unmoving, half-buried form. Her coat was covered in dust, rendering her a pale, ghostly white, stained black around her mouth and side by blood. Oh no... oh Celestia no no no nononono—
“TWILIGHT!” she shouted and scrambled toward the mare. In her saddlebags she had healing potions left over from Theostre’s lair; perhaps it wasn’t too late to save her. She fumbled at the latch on her bags with her mouth, too stunned to use her magic, and pulled out the first flask her questing lips found. Dark red liquid sloshed within the glass as she ran toward the fallen mare.
Curalmil was too quick. He appeared in front of her so fast it was like he teleported, were such a thing not impossible for an earth pony. Sly skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a wicked slash at her face. Instead his sword knocked the flask from her lips, shattering it into thousands of shards that spun through the air, mixed with the precious red fluid. Her potion splashed to the ground, useless, already fading to black. The faint taste of strawberries and grass lingered on her lips.
“Never take your eyes from your foe,” he rasped around the hilt of his sword, before lashing again out again. The blade was like an extension of his body, so easily and fluidly did he wield it.
Sly reared away from the flashing blade, barely avoiding a slash that would have opened her throat all the way to her spine. The blade struck the barding covering her forelegs, biting through the boiled leather and into her flesh. She ignored the pain and danced back. He stepped toward her again.
Idiot! If you die, she dies! Nightfall lay on the ground a few feet away. She dove toward it, barely avoiding another strike from Curalmil’s sword. She focused her magic on a large, jagged stone, hefted it into the air, and flung it toward him with all the force she could shove through her horn. The rock struck his armored shoulder at a respectable speed, staggering him long enough for her to reach the bow and spin toward him again. In a single motion she drew an arrow from her quiver, set it on the string, aimed at his chest as she pulled, and then let fly.
The arrow sped through the darkness in a blur, faster even than Curalmil could dodge. He managed to spin to the side, taking the barbed tip in his shoulder rather than through his chest. The arrow punched effortlessly through the thick metal armor and came to rest with half its shaft protruding from his body. Curalmil grunted in pain, his hooves dancing beneath him as he regained his footing. His burning eyes flicked between the arrow lodged in his shoulder and her bow.
Sly drew another arrow and fired, sighting on his head. His sword swatted it from the air like it was a fly. Not possible, she marvelled in spite of herself. Her body shook with adrenaline; only the bow, floating in the air before her, was steady. She waited for him to strike again. Instead, he spoke.
“I gave my son that bow the day he became an officer,” he said. The words were perfectly clear, even spoken around the hilt of the sword in his mouth. Some draugr or ancient earth pony trick. “He named it Dagis. Daylight. What happened to it? What happened to him?”
Sly took a shaking step back. Curlamil mirrored her movement, stepping forward. His stride easily doubled hers.
“He changed,” she said. “They all did.” She drew another arrow, readying it on the string.
He appeared to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. The tip of his sword danced through the air in a line. “Regardless, it is not yours to wield.” He inhaled deeply, and then somehow shouted around the hilt of the sword.
“Zun haal VIIK!”
She tried to dodge, but her hoof rolled over an errant stone, sending her stumbling to the floor. The full force of his Shout spilled over her without harm, but snatched Nightfall from her grasp as though she were still a filly practicing levitation magic for the very first time. The weapon tumbled through the air, clattering to the floor in the darkness behind her. Unarmed, she lay before him.
“Farewell, thief.” He raised his head, and brought the sword spearing down toward her.
She rolled to her side. It was sloppy, but it did the trick — his sword cut a thin line down her flank, but didn’t pin her to the floor like a butterfly. Her horn glowed as she drew her sword and lashed out at his face. He blocked it easily, then stabbed at her again. Sparks flashed as she knocked the blade out of the way, then rolled to her feet, spun, and bucked his wounded shoulder, buying enough time to leap out of range of his blade.
His head tilted slightly as he inspected her. This close, she could distinctly see the images flashing through the jewel in his crown. The ocean. A candle. Gold coins. Blood.
He noticed her gaze and started to speak, then took a closer look at her sword. His eyes narrowed further, darkening the sparks that glowed within them.
“His sword, as well? Was there nothing you did not steal?”
She didn’t have time for this. Every moment spent fighting Curalmil was another moment Twilight might slip past saving. Her sword spun in a tight circle before her as she charged.
Their swords met in a shower of sparks that lit the cavern like day. In the light she could see his skeletal face, impassive and emotionless, moving only with the blows of his sword. Upon his forehead, the jewel’s polished facets reflected the sparks. The images within called to her. The moon. A foal. Dragons. Snow.
“You are not a warrior,” he said. His voice was even and unhurried. “How did you learn the Thu’um? Did you steal that knowledge as well?”
She tried to dodge around him, toward Twilight. He spun easily, his sword whipping around to carve a deep gouge in her side before her sword could knock it away. The sudden pain sent her stumbling back a pace.
“I stole nothing!” she shouted. “Your sons became monsters! You would not recognize them!”
He didn’t answer. Even before she finished speaking, he stagger-stepped toward her, first to the left, then the right, then straight at her with his sword extended. She barely brought her blade up in time to deflect it away from her neck. Her right ear erupted in pain, and she felt something warm and wet flowing down her neck.
You have magic! Use it! She slapped at his blade with hers, knocking it to the side. Before he could recover she lifted a chunk of stone half as large as she was and sent it soaring into him. The blow knocked him off his feet and nearly crushed him against a column. Even Twilight would’ve been impressed, she thought.
Unfortunately, Curalmil was tougher than she was. He kicked the boulder away with a crack and rolled to his feet. Aside from some dents and scuffs in his armor, he appeared unharmed. One of his metal antlers had snapped off, but the jewel still flashed its images at her from his crown. The sun. A cup. Butterflies. Fire.
And he had magic, too. Curalmil inhaled and Shouted again. “Zun haal VIIK!” The sound rolled over her, snatching her sword from her grasp and sending it spinning across the room. It hit the stone wall point first and sank into the rock halfway to its hilt. 
She had no more weapons. With an anguished glance at Twilight’s still form, Sly turned and ran. Behind her, she heard hooves on stone as Curalmil pursued.
She ran down the same corridor they had used to enter his tomb. It twisted and turned before her, exactly as she remembered. She rounded a final corner and came to a stop next to the bodies of the draugr they had slain. Their fallen weapons were decrepit and unfamiliar, but far better than her bare hooves.
Curalmil rounded the corner behind her just in time to catch a flung battleaxe in his chest. The weapon hit haft first, and did little more than stun him long enough for her to grab a sword from another draugr’s mouth. It felt rotten and wet in her magical grasp. She ignored the sensation and slashed at him with it.
No dice. Even stunned, he was fast enough to swat it aside with his own blade. The pocked and rusted tip of her sword scratched his cheek, but failed to draw more than a few drops of blood. He blocked her next slash easily, his tempered sword cracking her blade in half.
Useless! She flung both halves at him, distracting him long enough to search for another weapon. Most were in just as terrible shape as the sword. Scattered around her were a dozen arrows -- she searched vainly for the accompanying bow before remembering what had happened to it. Its two halves lay beside the fallen archer.
Idiot! If you’re going to toss weapons, toss the right ones! She snatched up an arrow with her magic. It felt light as a feather compared to the boulder she had flung at him. She focused, and it flew through the air like a bird toward him, striking him in the chest and sinking several inches into his dry, wasted flesh. The wound only seemed to anger him.
“Enough!” Curalmil thundered. He inhaled again, preparing a final shout. In the narrow corridor there was no way for her to avoid it. “Fus...”
Time seemed to slow as she lifted another arrow into the air. Don’t toss it, a voice whispered in her mind. Fire it. A faint silver light surrounded it, mirrored by the glow of her horn. A trail of sparks fell from it through the air as the glow intensified. She mentally drew the arrow back, and it began to shake as she imagined a bow aimed at his neck.
“Ro...” Curalmil leaned forward, projecting his voice toward her. The images in the jewel flashed slowly at her. The night. A diamond. Trees. Salt.
“DA—” he began the final word as she released her grip on the arrow. It shot across the room like a comet, leaving a silver streak burned into her retinas. The tip plunged into his open mouth and through the back of his throat, almost snapping his spine with the force of its impact. His head rocked back, and his Shout exploded up into the ceiling. It nearly deafened her as it rolled out across the stones.
She was about to grab another arrow when the unexpected happened. The corridor shifted beneath her hooves, the walls buckled, and the ceiling above Curalmil, weakened by his shout, collapsed in a shower of rock and stone. Tons of debris rained down upon him, crushing him to the floor like an insect.
Sly fell, expecting to be crushed as well. The world shook all around her, filled with a riot of noise. Her good ear flattened against her skull in protest — the other, split neatly in two by Curalmil’s sword, hung limp against her cheek. For what felt like hours the thunder continued, and she waited for the falling stone that would end her life. Light filled the corridor for a brief moment as the braziers toppled to the floor, then were extinguished, plunging her into darkness.
Eventually the shaking stopped. Dust covered her like a shroud when she opened her eyes. Faint light from the spilled braziers lent the shattered halls an unearthly glow. Clouds of dust drifted through the corridor like smoke.
She coughed and rose to her hooves. Somewhere in the chaos a rock had struck her side, and she felt a stabbing pain with each breath. Just a broken rib, she decided. One of the lesser injuries she had suffered in the tomb.
A huge pile of stone filled the middle of the corridor. A flickering light shone from within the dust surrounding it, and as she drew closer, she could see the top half of Curalmil’s body protruding from beneath the rocks. The jewel continued its colorful show upon his crown.
His head twitched as she limped toward him, and she realized he was somehow still alive, trapped beneath the stones and his crushed and deformed armor. The arrow she had shot through his throat had snapped off in the cascade of rock, leaving only the barbed tip sticking out the back of his neck. The sparks in his eyes glimmered weakly at her, and his mouth moved. She knelt beside him to hear.
“All... all of them, monsters...” he whispered.
She nodded slowly.
“S... Sovyn?”
She paused, remembering the tiny form and the altar at the base of his throne. She remembered the letters, sealed in their scroll tubes. She remembered Sovyn’s wish, and her final words.
“No, not Sovyn,” she said. She paused a moment to think. The world owed Sovyn so much. This might be the only payment she would ever receive. The only chance to get her own wish.
“And she loved you. They all did,” she finished. It would have to be enough.
Curalmil grunted weakly, already beyond the ability to speak. His head lifted one final time, as though looking up at the distant sky, then collapsed. The sparks in his eyes went out.
Sly sat silently next to him, staring at his slack face. It was over — all their violence and suffering and struggles led to this one point, finally in their grasp. Her eyes shifted to the flickering jewel above his forehead. As if sensing her attention, the jewel fell from its mount in Curalmil’s crown. It landed with a loud crack on the stones and rolled toward her, eventually coming to a stop resting near her hoof. The images within spoke to her. The sky. A clock. Violins. Dust.
The Wind’s Eye. At last, it was hers. She reached out with her hoof to touch it—
She reclined upon an opulent couch, surrounded by more wealth than she could imagine. Servants trotted to and fro through her palace, their silver-shod hooves ringing like bells on the marble floor. The taste of grapes and apples lingered in her mouth, the remains of a lavish lunch. The vast hall around her was a tribute to her wealth — tapestries woven from gold thread vied for attention with stained-glass windows crafted from actual jewels. A dozen beautiful, perfect ponies fawned at her hooves, offering her their lives for a tiny drop of her treasures. 
“Wish for riches,” something whispered beside her. She turned to see what it was, and—
Sly blinked. The oppressive gloom of the corridor returned. Curalmil’s body lay before her, and the jewel flashed beneath her hoof. Her horn glowed as she lifted it into the air, inches from her face. The dawn. A sword. Bones. Sand.
“No,” she whispered. “No... that’s not what Twilight wanted. That’s not what Twilight said to—”
She sat upon her throne. Before her, below her raised dais, thousands of ponies bowed. Trumpets blared paeans to her greatness, and announced the start of her reign. Along her walls, sky blue banners waved in her gently flowing air, all bearing her star-and-moon mark. Her doors at the far end of her throne room opened, and a procession of ponies entered, bearing a lush velvet pillow, atop which rested an elegant silver crown.
One of her ponies ascended her stairs and held up her pillow. Now that he was close, she could see how small he was. She towered over them. They were like foals next to her.
Her horn glowed, and her crown lifted from her pillow and floated through her air, coming to rest upon her head. She shook her mane to settle it in place, then spread her wings in fanfare. The assembled ponies began to cheer.
“Wish for power,” something whispered beside her. She turned to see what it was, and—
She nearly dropped the jewel in shock. Could it do that? Could it make her a god? The jewel trembled as her concentration wavered. She shook her head and took a deep breath, seeking focus. The aurora. A wand. Potions. Fog.
She gritted her teeth. The images pressed at her mind, distracting her. There was something important she needed. Something she needed to do. “No, that’s not what Twilight said—”
She stood atop a corpse. A mountain of corpses, all dragons. Their blood coated her, filling her with life and power and purpose. Nightfall floated beside her, another arrow already nocked on its string.
The dragons flew at her in futile waves. She inhaled air and exhaled death. Her Shout rent them from the skies, sending them plunging to the ground and to her hooves. Mercy never occurred to her. Stopping never occurred to her. They were dragons, and she was the Dragonborn. This was her purpose.
Her arrows found another dragon’s heart, and she exulted in its wavering cry. This, this was her fate. This was what she was born to do. Nothing lived. Everything burned.
“You know the wish,” something whispered beside her. She turned to see a dragon, somehow alive, standing behind her. “Be the Dovahkiin. Become death. Become what you could not be, the night your village died.”
She nodded. “I wish I was the Dragonbor—”
She gasped. The corridor was again around her. Her hoof cradled the jewel against her breast, just above her heart. Her mouth was open, ready to say the words that would erase all doubt. The wish that would make her the one, the true, the only Dragonborn.
“No,” she growled. “I promised. Twilight made me...” she trailed off. Twilight had made her promise to remember the dangers of the jewel, in case anything bad happened. In case anything bad happened. Twilight...
“TWILIGHT!” She stumbled to her hooves, tossed the jewel into her saddlebags, and raced down the corridor, heedless of the fallen stones that tore at her hooves. She bounced against the walls, ignoring the pain of her old injuries. Something caught her knee and she fell for a moment before scrambling back to her hooves. She barely noticed the terrible ache in her leg.
Curalmil’s tomb lay dead ahead. She burst through the open doorway, skidding to a halt as she searched for Twilight’s form. Against the wall, just a dozen feet away. Sly charged over the piles of stone toward her friend.
“Twilight! I’m here!” she shouted again, nearly tripping over her own hooves. The faint, squeamish part of her mind that had hesitated after the battle with Theostre, when she had found Twilight’s burnt and broken form, registered a peep of protest. She stuffed it into the back of her mind, and sank to her knees beside Twilight.
It wasn’t good. Blood pooled around her mouth, forming a black stain in the dim blue light of the chamber. Twilight’s eyes were open and glassy. The entire rear half of her body was crushed beneath the stones.
Oh no nononono. She pulled a healing potion from her saddlebags. With a stab of dismay she realized it was the last — any that Twilight had been carrying were lost beneath the crush of rubble. She tore the stopper out and poured it into Twilight’s slack mouth, silently praying that it wasn’t too late.
It was and it wasn’t. After a moment Twilight’s chest began to move again. The air rattled weakly in her lungs as she took a few hesitant breaths, then began to fail. One potion wasn’t enough. All the potions in the world weren’t enough for this.
“Twilight...” She cradled the mare’s head, holding it against her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” She sobbed quietly. Her tears washed away the dust on Twilight’s face, leaving dark trails of purple amidst the pale grey.
Something rustled behind her. She didn’t bother turning to see what it was. It didn’t matter anymore.
“You know the wish,” it whispered. “It doesn’t have to be too late.”
“No,” Sly said. The word burst from her in a ragged gasp. “I’ve seen what your wishes lead to. You are evil. She would become a monster.”
The soul in the jewel laughed in her mind. “No, little thief. I am beyond good and evil. I have only ever given what is in pony’s hearts. If you fear evil, look there.”
Look there. Sly tried to look within, and found it impossible. She had no experience measuring her own thoughts or desires. All that ever mattered was what she wanted. That was the only good. The only evil was her own suffering.
She glanced down at Twilight’s dying form. Would such a wish be good or evil? What was it Twilight had said? “Spells are spells, Sly. They aren't inherently good or evil. How you use them is.”
She pulled the jewel out of her saddlebags. The images inside still flashed at her, called out to her. The sun. A door. Books. Ash.
There was no time to plan an elaborate wish, like Twilight had said. She did just the opposite, exactly what Twilight had warned against: wishing for the first thing that came to mind. There was no time for anything else.
She lowered her head and placed a gentle kiss on Twilight’s cheek. The mare stirred weakly in her arms. “Please forgive me.” She pressed the jewel against her breast, just above her heart.
“I wish that Twilight Sparkle was safe and whole,” she whispered.
The flashing images began to slow. Sly closed her eyes rather than look at them. A moment later, there was a quiet click, and she felt a burst of warmth radiate from the jewel. The dying pony held in her hooves melted away, and for a moment the room was filled with sunlight.
She opened her eyes and smiled. A healthy, unharmed Twilight Sparkle looked back, a puzzled expression on her face.
That was fine. There was plenty of time for explanations.




Footnote: Level Up (Sly)
New Perk: Power Shot -- Arrows stagger all but the largest opponents 50% of the time.
New Ability: Bound Bow -- You may fire arrows without the use of a physical bow.
New Toy! The Wind’s Eye -- Health, Stamina and Magicka increased by 30. Luck increased by 10%. You may make one wish during your lifetime.

Footnote: Level Up (Twilight Sparkle)
New Perk: Augmented Shock -- Shock spells do 25% more damage.
New Ability: Entropic Constriction -- You may summon up to five ethereal tentacles to attack your foes. Just something Theostre taught you.
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wind Thief
Epilogue


Some weeks later...

Sly fidgeted.
She wasn’t used to standing still for long periods of time. As a foal, she had driven her parents crazy with her restlessness, even when she wasn’t pretending to be a thief or an adventurer. At least once a week, she was sent home from school with a warning slip for running around during class. It had been a huge relief when the school finally closed for lack of students, and she could wander freely throughout her days.
“Stop that,” Twilight Sparkle whispered. She sat serenely next to Sly, looking immaculate in her simple librarian’s robe. Her mane was as long as it was before the crypt — which was to say it was short and cut razor-straight just below her ears. Sly’s wish had not only restored Twilight’s health, but her hair and coat as well. Sly found herself staring at the lovely strands occasionally. Twilight didn’t seem bothered by the attention.
“Sorry,” Sly whispered back. They had been waiting for most of an hour in one of the palace’s many reading rooms. Twilight passed the time, predictably, with a book. Sly fidgeted.
It had taken the better part of two days to emerge from Curalmil’s tomb. Although Twilight had been healthy and hale, Sly had barely been able to walk. As they had already emptied the tomb of healing potions, there was nothing they could do for her injuries but wash and bandage them. She hadn’t minded that part. Twilight hadn’t, either.
It had also served to distract Twilight from being furious at her. She guessed what Sly had done within minutes of the wish, and spent the next several hours railing at her for wasting it. Sly hadn’t cared; even the sound of a furious Twilight was music to her ears. Eventually, Twilight’s anger petered out -- it was hard to be mad at someone for saving your life, after all. Sly’s shameless use of puppy dog eyes may have helped things along.
Their first steps outside the tomb were an emotional reunion with the sun and wind. Sly actually cried with joy when she felt the warm rays on her face. Twilight simply sat down and sobbed.
After that, the return to Canterlot was uneventful. Twilight pretended not to notice Sly stopping by the pawn shop to drop off saddlebags stuffed with loot, and together they reported to the palace. An honor guard was already waiting for them at the gate when they arrived.
Technically, the honor guard was waiting for Twilight. The actual city guard was waiting for Sly. Only Twilight’s quick intervention and assurances kept them from slapping Sly in chains and hauling her back to the jail. Instead, thanks to Twilight’s pull at the palace, Sly was given a room in the guest quarters. She politely ignored the guard stationed outside her door and pretended not to mind their daily searches of her belongings. 
As if they would notice anything missing, anyway.
No sign yet of their host. Sly sighed and inspected the bookshelves for the seventh time. Nope, nothing new there. Twilight glanced at her, then rolled her eyes before returning to the book.
She wasn’t so haughty last night, Sly grumbled to herself. The memory sprang to mind, unbidden but welcome nevertheless.


***


The previous night...

Sly was dead asleep when the knock came at her door.
She was up in an instant, balancing on the tips of her hooves. Her eyes automatically sought out the light and dark parts of her room, and she was moving to hide in the shadows when her brain came fully online, reminding her of where she was.
She trotted carefully over to the door and opened it. Outside stood Twilight Sparkle, who was looking at her nervously, and the guard, who was ignoring them both. 
Sly blinked sleepily. “Uh, hey?” Ever the smooth operator.
“Hi... uh, good evening,” Twilight said, ducking her head. “Can... can I come in?” she finished softly, almost whispering. The guard ignored her with what seemed like a supreme effort of will.
Yes you can! Sly was completely awake, now. She glanced out the door to see who else might be witnessing this visit, then drew back inside, holding the door open for the librarian. “Of course.”
Twilight smiled and trotted past her into the room. Sly waited until she was clear, then leaned closer to the guard. “We’ll try to keep it down,” she whispered. The expression on his face was priceless. She gave him a polite smile and retreated into the room, closing the door behind her. 
She turned to Twilight, who was standing in the center of the room. “So...” Her voice cracked nervously. She paused, swallowed, and tried again. “So, uh, is everything alright?”
Twilight nodded, then gave the room a quick glance. It was a disaster zone. Random articles of clothing, weapons, potions, scrolls, rappelling gear, first aid kits, and even a few genuinely expensive artifacts littered the floor and available shelves. Sly cursed herself for not cleaning up. Idiot! You knew she would come over at some point!
Twilight bit her lip, looking more nervous by the moment. “I’m sorry to bother you...” she trailed off.
“No, it’s fine. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just, nothing.” At Sly’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “I can’t sleep. It’s silly, I know.”
Sly leaned back a few inches, remembering their nights in the crypt. The times Twilight would bolt awake, covered in sweat, shaking from some nightmare. The times Sly did the same. Oh. Ohhhh...
She shoved her heightened expectations to the back of her mind and gave Twilight a reassuring smile. “It’s not silly,” she said. “Come on. It’ll be just like in the... er, like before.” Neither of them were ready to talk about the crypt yet.
Together they climbed back into the soft, still-warm bed. Twilight drifted off almost immediately. Sly lay awake a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of Twilight’s breathing. Eventually, the soft pulse of Twilight’s heartbeat against her side and the welcome warmth of her body lulled her to sleep.


***

“Sly?”
Sly started, the memories of the previous night evaporating, replaced with the sun-filled reading room. She spun around to see Twilight looking at her with an amused expression.
“You looked... distracted,” she said.
“Just thinking!” Sly said. “Thinking about...” She glanced around. “Books. Thinking about books.”
“Mhm.” Twilight set her own book down on a table. “Come here.”
Was that an order? Sly balked for a moment, then grumbled to herself and walked over to the table. This would not become a habit, she promised.
Twilight waited for her to arrive and started fussing with her mane. Sly made a few protest sounds, then settled down and let Twilight do as she wished. It wasn’t that bad.
“When Celestia comes in, let me do the talking,” Twilight whispered. Her breath tickled Sly’s ear. “Do not tell her about the jewel. Do not let her know you have it.”
Huh? “Wait. Don’t tell her about it? We spent weeks getting this thing! We almost died for it!”
“One wish per lifetime,” Twilight said. She pulled back far enough to look Sly in the eyes. “Celestia has to do what’s best for the kingdom. The jewel can still be used against the dragons, but not as long as you’re alive.”
Sly froze. Her eyes went wide as the full impact of what Twilight was saying hit her.
“She... no, she wouldn’t do that.”
Twilight looked away. “I love her, Sly, but this is about more than us. She’s a good pony, the best pony I know. I don’t want to dangle the jewel in front of her, and leave your life in the balance.”
“But she wouldn’t really—”
Twilight silenced her with a peck on the lips. Her horn glowed, and the black jewel lifted from its chain around Sly’s neck. She tucked it behind Sly’s mane, out of sight. “Let’s not find out.”
Sly stammered something, and probably would have eventually formed a real sentence, if given enough time. Before she could make any real progress on that front, the arched doors at the far end of the room opened, and a soft pastel light filled the room as Celestia entered.
They both bowed to her. Or rather, Sly bowed, while Twilight pretended to bow, then ran over to her mentor and tossed her forelegs around her neck in a hug. Celestia beamed at her, returning the hug with what looked like real love.
Sly waited a moment, then rose. Twilight still grasped the princess tightly, her eyes scrunched shut. Sly could see her mouth moving, but was too far away to hear whatever she said. Twilight released her hold on the princess’s neck, and together they walked back to Sly. Tears stained Twilight’s face; Celestia wore the same gentle smile as always.
Did you smile when killing dragons? The thought jumped to the front of her mind. She stuffed it back furiously.
“Hello again, Sly,” Celestia said. “I’m glad to see you return to us safely. From what I’m told, you and Twilight had quite the adventure.”
Twilight turned, placing herself between Sly and the princess. “It was, your majesty! We fought a dragon, dozens of draugr, a giant spider, and a lich or two. More than I ever expected.”
Celestia hummed appreciatively. “That’s impressive. And the other thing?”
“Ah...” Twilight paused and licked her lips. “I’m afraid there was no sign of it, princess. We may have to keep looking for references to the jewel. I’ll be glad to get started on it immediately!”
Celestia laughed quietly, filling the room with joy. Even wary as she was, Sly felt her spirits lifting at the sound. “There is no rush, Twilight. Take some time to recover from your hurts, and rest. We will continue our search soon enough.” She tilted her head and smiled at them. “Now, why don’t you join me for lunch? I’m excited to hear all about your trip.”
Twilight bobbed her head, almost foallike in her excitement. Together they walked toward the same door Celestia had entered in. They shared a word, and Twilight bounced ahead of her, nearly floating with joy at seeing her mentor again.
Celestia waited a moment. Once Twilight was through the arch, her horn glowed, and the heavy door swung shut. The princess turned to face Sly and slowly walked back to her.
A tiny icicle of fear stabbed into Sly’s gut. She swallowed nervously and smiled up at the princess.
“Your majesty,” she said, politely.
“Please, relax, Sly. I thought we’d have a little chat.”
Chats were good. Nothing wrong with chatting. Sly nodded her head in agreement.
Celestia took a seat beside her. Even sitting, she towered over Sly. The gentle smile never left her face.
“I understand the two of you became quite close during your trip?”
It was a question, but it really wasn’t. Sly nodded again. “We did. I hope that’s not a problem, your majesty.”
“No, not at all. Twilight never had many friends, and I’m glad to see her making one.”
Right, a friend. The fear faded and Sly’s smile relaxed, becoming more real.
“A very close friend, even,” Celestia continued.
“Very close,” Sly agreed.
“The kind of friend you share a bed with.”
Sirens went off in her head. “It’s not what it sounds like!” she protested. “There were extenuating circumstances! We didn’t do, uh, anything!”
Celestia chuckled quietly. The mirth was infectious, and Sly found herself calming down. “Please do not be alarmed, Sly. You are a good pony, and will be good for her, regardless of how deep your relationship runs.”
Relationship. Sly mouthed the word silently, and found she liked it. A feeling of joy began to build inside of her. Relationship... our relationship!
“On another note,” Celestia broke into her musing, “I couldn’t help but notice Twilight was lying about the jewel.”
Sly’s train of happy thoughts derailed, crashed and burned. “Lying?” she stammered. “Why would she lie to you, princess? She wants to stop the dragons more than anyone.”
Celestia nodded. “You might not be aware of this, Sly, but I raised Twilight from a filly. She is a terrible liar, which I consider to be a very positive trait. Skill at dishonesty is not something to be proud of.”
That was unfair. Sly was about to complain when Celestia fixed her with a piercing look.
“But that leaves the question of... ah, yes, there it is.” Celestia closed her eyes for a moment, her horn glowing with a gentle white light. Sly felt a tug on her mane, and a moment later the jewel floated into the air between them. It hung from its chain, as dark and lifeless as the moment she had made her wish.
One wish per lifetime. Sly shakily rose to her hooves. There were two exits, plus the window. If she caught Celestia by surprise she might be able to reach Twilight. She had no weapons but her Shout. Not the best odds, all things considered.
“Please relax, Sly,” Celestia said. “I remember this weapon too well to want it for myself. It is not worth a single life, no matter how valuable we think the wish might be.”
Sly blinked. “But... the dragons?”
“We will find another way to stop the dragons. Another Dragonborn, perhaps.” She glanced at Sly again. “The last time we put our trust in this jewel to solve our problems, the world nearly ended regardless. I lost my sister, my kingdom... we nearly lost everything.”
Celestia stared into the jewel’s depths, as though able to see the dancing images again. After a moment she closed her eyes and floated it back to Sly, hanging it around her neck. The jewel rested just above her heart.
“Keep it safe,” Celestia warned. “We are not the only ponies who know about the jewel or its limits. If others were to discover that a wish could be in their hooves, at the price of your life...”
Right. Other ponies were not as kind and wise as Celestia. Sly glanced at the jewel nervously.
“But come, let us put aside such dour thoughts,” Celestia said, smiling again. “Lunch awaits.”
Twilight was waiting too, on the other side of the door. Her eyes widened as they walked out, and widened some more when she saw the naked jewel resting against Sly’s chest. She mumbled something to Celestia as the princess passed, then pressed up against Sly’s side.
“I said to keep it hidden!” she hissed. “What are you thinking?!”
Sly shushed her, drawing a satisfyingly aggrieved expression from the librarian. “It’s okay. She knew all along and doesn’t care. Also, she said you could keep sleeping in my bed.”
For once, Twilight had nothing to say. Sly grinned at her, then trotted down the hall toward the promised food. A clatter of hooves on the stone behind her announced Twilight’s recovery and subsequent pursuit.
Sly picked up her pace. Canterlot was a nice city, she decided, and the company wasn’t bad either. A pony could make a good living here. A Dragonborn could, too.
Twilight caught her as they reached the dining room. A sharp glare suggested Sly would be paying for that comment later.
That was fine. For now, lunch called, and she was happy to answer.


- The Wind Thief - 

A Tale of the Dragonborn





> Side Quest: The Word Wall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Word Wall


A Tale of the Dragonborn






“So, remind me why we’re out here, again?” Sly asked.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Canterlot Boulevard. It was, as far as boulevards went, rather nice. The granite flagstones were smooth beneath her hooves, and the path they formed ran arrow-straight from the very heart of the city to the massive gates at its approach several miles away. Trees and fountains broke up the avenue’s monotony, and already hundreds of merchants had set their wares on wooden booths painted in garish, eye-snagging colors. Technically, such street vendors were in violation of various city ordinances on unlicensed businesses, and they were all probably skipping out on the crown’s taxes as well, but the few guards wandering the early morning mist showed no sign of interrupting their commerce. The coins Sly saw the merchants occasionally slip the guards when they thought nopony was watching probably helped.

No, the Canterlot Boulevard had nothing to do with Sly’s surly mood. There were always bits to be made here, one way or another, and she probably would have found her way to this very spot at some point even if Twilight Sparkle hadn’t dragged her along on some ill-defined errand.

But not for several hours. Like, later afternoon, when the sun was setting and she had more than three hours of sleep.

“I told you, we’re meeting somepony,” Twilight said. She looked impossibly chipper for such an early hour. Her mane was perfectly combed, leaving her bangs razor-straight across her brow. She had foregone her usual librarian’s robes in deference to the muggy heat that infiltrated the city during the summer months. Naked, she was even easier for Sly to read than usual.

Her ears were up and twitching, swivelling to face every faint sound that echoed down the boulevard. Her tail bounced with each step as she trotted back and forth on a little path, and at each turn she stood on the tips of her hooves, her neck arched to peer over the thin crowd toward the distant gates.

But most oddly of all, she was smiling. Twilight, who like Sly never rose before the crack of noon if she could possibly avoid it, was smiling. 

Interesting.

“Somepony, huh? Anypony I know?” Sly took a deliberate seat in the middle of Twilight’s path, which had the happy effect of stopping her damn pacing and annoying her, too. It took all of Sly’s self-control not to smile when Twilight pulled up short and huffed at her.

“No,” she said. She raised a leg as though to step around Sly and keep pacing, but then gave herself a little shake and took a seat. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Sly said. “So, who are we waiting for, exactly?”

Twilight’s smile returned, but smaller this time. A hidden little thing, just between them. She lowered her voice and leaned in, resting her shoulder against Sly’s. “It’s a secret.”

Perhaps this morning wasn’t a total waste, then. Sly stifled a yawn and gave the boulevard another look for whoever Twilight might be waiting for. So far, none of the merchants or guards had paid them the slightest interest. 

“I don’t suppose it could’ve waited a few hours?”

Twilight poked her in the flank with the sharp edge of her hoof. “No, and stop whining. I had to get up just as early as you.”

That was true, but it was Twilight’s secret they were out here for. The more she thought about it, the less fair this seemed, and Sly was about to say so when Twilight suddenly jumped up and stood on her hind legs to peer down the boulevard. Faintly, Sly heard the clop of hundreds of hooves on the granite stones, and what sounded like a dozen wagons creaking their way toward them.

“That’s them!” Twilight bounced on the tips of her hooves. She started down the boulevard toward the racket and called over her shoulder at Sly. “Come on!”

Huh. Sly slowly rose to her hooves, stretched, and followed her odd friend.


* * *


Sly finally caught up with Twilight outside the one building she’d rather have avoided that morning. Or any morning. Twilight knew this, yet there she stood, grinning like a fool as Sly closed the distance and sat with her head low to avoid attention.

“Twilight, this is the guard headquarters,” she whispered.

“Yup!” Twilight said, far too loudly for Sly’s comfort. “I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

True enough. Sly had been here many times in various capacities, none of which she cared to repeat. Judging by the looks she was receiving from guards as they trotted through the building’s wide entrance, they remembered her too.

“It’s too early for sarcasm, Twilight. Why are we here?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

Technically, ambushes were a type of surprise. Sly gave the nearby alleys a quick check for hidden shapes. “If this is about your birthday, I’d like to apologize again.”

A flash of annoyance passed across Twilight’s face. “It’s not…” She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. “We’ll talk about that later. We’re here to—Oh, there they are!”

A dozen or so yards away, a large column of ponies decked out in armor came to a halt. Their equipment wasn’t the shiny brass that festooned the city guard; this was dull, worn and functional armor, iron plates riveted with bronze, leather scales braided together like dragon skin, scarred from use, designed for a single purpose: to keep the pony inside it alive. Weapons of war – bows, spears and even axes were slung across their backs or held in their hooves. They looked tired, and mud splattered their legs and bellies, but they all seemed happy as well, or at least relieved. A company back from deployment in the countryside, Sly guessed.

“Friends of yours?” she asked, her voice still low.

“Just one,” Twilight said. She sounded distracted, and Sly saw her eyes darting around the column. “It’ll be a few minutes before they’re dismissed.”

Indeed, none of the soldiers seemed to be going anywhere. Those carrying rucksacks set them down, and a few hefty earth ponies broke out of the formation to begin unloading the wagons, but the rest assembled into a loose formation. At their head an older pegasus, crisscrossed with scars and lean as a sapling, stood apart from the rest of the company, deep in conversation with the largest unicorn Sly had ever seen. The unicorn was an officer of some sort, Sly guessed, based on the fluted filigree on his armor. 

And not a bad looking officer at that. Sly let her eyes roam across his sturdy form. If it weren’t for the long horn and pure white coat, she’d have confused him for an earth pony. Her annoyance with Twilight for dragging them out of bed so early began to wane. She turned to Twilight to say so, and noticed her gaze also seemed fixed on the white unicorn.

Oh ho. Sly grinned. “Impressive, huh? Don’t see unicorn stallions like that very often.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “What? Sly, that’s—”

“I know, I know, inappropriate.” Sly leaned against Twilight and draped a foreleg around around her shoulders. “Come on, I saw you eyeballing him.”

“I was,” Twilight said. Her voice had gone flat for some reason.

“There’s no harm in that,” Sly teased. “I mean, he’s pretty big.”

“Mhm.”

“So, do you think it’s true? About unicorns with long horns?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” Twilight carefully extracted herself from Sly’s grip. “Now, if you’re done—”

Sly wasn’t. “He’s an officer. They’re usually from wealthy families. I’ll bet he’s pretty lonely, too, after all those months…” Sly trailed off. The potentially wealthy stallion in question had finished talking to the pegasus and started marching toward them. When he was a few paces away, Twilight darted forward and jumped up to throw her legs around his neck in a tight hug.

Huh.

“Shiney!” Twilight gave his neck another squeeze. “Oh, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hey, Twiley.” The stallion dipped his head to nuzzle Twilight’s cheek and returned the hug with a single leg that wrapped completely around the smaller mare. “Missed you. Heard you’ve been busy, too.” For a moment, his eyes flicked up to encompass Sly. They were open, honest, and maybe just a little suspicious.

That was fine. Sly was used to suspicious ponies. She put on her most disarming smile.

“It’s been a crazy year.” Twilight sniffed and rubbed her eyes with her fetlock. She noticed the shift in his attention and disentangled herself from the hug. “Anyway, Shiney, this is my friend Sly. Sly, this is my brother, Shining Armor.”

Ah, brother. Not for the first time, Sly wished for a way to rewind time so she could punch her past self in the face. Still, her smile didn’t move so much as a millimeter as she stepped forward to touch his hoof in greeting. “Officer, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Please, just Shining.” He tilted his head slightly. “You know, you sounded taller in Twilight’s letters.”

Those damn letters again. Sly gave Twilight a look. “Well, she’s not a very good writer.”

That earned her a brief scowl, quickly subsumed by the practiced indifference Twilight usually wore. “Anyway, can we get your bags? Your room in the castle is already set up.”

“I’ve carried them for ten miles already today, I think I can handle another two.” His horn glowed a light pink – a disconcertingly effeminate color for such a large stallion – and a pair of rucksacks levitated over to rest on his back. He didn’t seem to notice their weight, and together the three of them began the short trot back to the palace with the siblings in the lead, and Sly a few paces behind.


* * *


“You never mentioned you had a brother.”

Twilight stopped, her head tilted up and to the side like she always did when trying to recall some obscure fact. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Or that he was a captain of the guard.”

“Oh.” She resumed her trot down the dim hallway. “I guess it never came up.”

Shining Armor’s quarters weren’t technically in the castle; they were in the guard barracks on the castle grounds. Still, they were spacious, larger than Sly’s, and equipped with the nice furnishings one would expect in a senior officer’s home. As soon as they had arrived, Shining dumped his bags on the bed, gave Twilight another hug, and excused himself to wash up. Before they departed, he asked them to meet him in the palace library in an hour’s time.

So, to the library, after a quick detour to grab Twilight’s librarian robes from her quarters. Something about proper decorum. Sly, as usual, went unclothed. Since it wasn’t yet noon and the library technically wasn’t open, she doubted anyone would object.

“It’s just, sometimes I have misunderstandings with the guard,” Sly said. They stopped at the library’s imposing blue doors while Twilight fished a key out of her robes. “You know how they are.”

“Mhm, always so concerned with the law.” Twilight unlocked the doors and propped them open. “I’m sure you two will get along fine, though.”

“As long as he understands things. You know, with us.”

“Perhaps you could explain ‘things’ to him.” Twilight led them over to an empty table, her magic grabbing a set of cushions from a shelf near the door for them to sit on. She glanced at the towering windows arrayed along the eastern wall, and with another burst of magic pulled aside dozens of drapes, flooding the cavernous room with dust-speckled shafts of morning light. Thousands of shelves stretched away from them in neat rows, into the still-dark recesses of the library, with barely enough space between them for a pony to turn.

Explaining the particulars of their relationship to Twilight’s brother seemed like a bad idea, actually. Shining Armor struck her as the protective type. She was working out a diplomatic way to say that when another set of hoofbeats sounded from the hallway, and they turned to see Shining Armor trot in. He had also foregone robes, Sly was surprised to see. Unicorn nobles rarely ventured outside their homes without some sort of dress.

“Ladies, thank you for coming.” He gave Twilight a warm smile and Sly a respectful nod. Taking a spot at the table beside them, he levitated a paper scroll out of his leather saddlebags and unrolled it, revealing a map of the mountains around Canterlot. “One of our patrols found something a few weeks ago that I thought you might be interested in.”

“What’s that?” Twilight propped her hooves up on the table and peered down at the scroll.

“It’s a map,” Sly said. “It’s like a drawing of the ground.”

That earned her another look. “Yes, thank you, Sly. What did your patrol find, Shiney?”

He glanced between them for a moment, and then gave his head a little shake. “A dragon, we think. Just a few leagues from the city limits. The patrol saw it roosting on a mountainside near an old shrine.” He tapped the map with his hoof at the top of a valley nestled between two low mountain ridges. 

“Did it attack them?” Twilight asked.

Shining shook his head. “It barely moved. For a while they thought it was a statue.”

That was odd. Of course, the whole thing was odd; dragons haunted the edges of the civilized world, not valleys just a few miles from its heart. And dragons were winter lovers. Seeing one just a few weeks from the start of summer was almost unheard of. Sly gave the map a little frown.

“Hm.” Twilight rotated the map on the table, eventually returning it back to its original position. “You said it was near a shrine?”

“That’s what it looked like. Near ruins, at least. They didn’t want to get too close, obviously.”

“Understandable.” Twilight peered at the valley again, then pushed back from the table and trotted toward one of the library’s innumerable shelves. “Hang on, let me grab something.”

And then there were two. Sly glanced up from the map to see Shining looking at her. The silence stretched out to the point of discomfort, until finally she had to speak. “So, Twilight mentioned me in her letters?”

“Yes, she said you kept her safe while searching a crypt in the Everfree. It sounded dangerous.”

Sly’s tattered ear flicked as she remembered the final confrontation with Curalmil. “You could say that,” she said after a short pause.

Shining didn’t miss the gesture, and his eyes lingered for a moment on Sly’s cheek. Most ponies wouldn’t have noticed the thin scar beneath her coat, another keepsake of Curalmil’s blade, but Shining seemed pretty observant. They lapsed back into silence until Twilight returned, bearing what else but a book in her grasp. She set it on the table and flipped it open to a bookmarked page.

“Sorrow’s Ridge,” she said. “It’s an old dragon priest shrine. Which probably explains the dragon.”

“Hm.” Shining spent a few minutes reading the book, then sat back and fixed Sly with another stare. “So, is it true? This ‘Dragonborn’ thing?”

Apparently Twilight was chatty in her letters. They’d have to talk about that later. “I try not to brag, but yes.”

Shining turned to Twilight, who had the grace to at least look uncomfortable. “I think there’s a good chance, yes. She’s closer than anypony we’ve found so far, at the very least.”

He let out a slow breath between his teeth. “Well, that’s more than I expected. Sly, would you like to go dragon hunting?”

And there it was. The faint tug on her soul, so soft she’d almost forgotten it existed during the long, easy months in Canterlot. But now the memories returned, and the images Shining painted in her mind of a dragon huddled against the side of a mountain, waiting for her, filled her veins with a fire the likes of which she hadn’t felt since they left that terrible crypt. She realized, after a few moments of silence, that her hoof had risen of its own accord to cradle the black jewel hanging from a chain around her neck, resting above her heart. It felt warm against her coat.

“Yes,” she said. “I would like to go dragon hunting.”

He nodded. “Excellent. We can leave in the morning – it’s close enough that we should make it back to the city by nightfall if we—”

“I’m coming too,” Twilight said. She snapped the book closed and levitated it onto her back.

Shining frowned. “Twiley, I know you have some experience now, but this sort of thing is dangerous. Dragons aren’t—”

“I’ve fought dragons before, Shiney.” Twilight’s voice held an edge. “And worse. Besides, our chances are better with three ponies.”

He glared at Twilight. She glared back. Sly measured the distance to the door, in case she had to run. Finally, just when Sly was about make a break for it, Shining leaned back and smiled.

“Alright, you can come,” he said. “But if things go pear-shaped I want you out of there, no questions.”

Twilight looked like she wanted to continue the argument, but eventually her hackles settled back down, and she smiled as well. “Fine. If it’s too dangerous, I’ll sit out.”

Celestia had once mentioned to Sly that Twilight was a terrible liar. Shining Armor, who had grown up with her, probably knew that as well. It certainly explained his eye roll, but he didn’t seem inclined to press the issue. Instead, they sat back down and made plans for the morrow’s adventure


* * *


The line between civilization and wilderness was thin and sharp. Less than a mile outside the Canterlot city gates, the last cottages and inns fell away, leaving only meadows and forest around them. Bright sunlight, so welcome now that the long dragon winter had finally surrendered to spring, streamed through the high leaves to cast dappled shadows on the road beneath their hooves.

It was nice, Sly decided. The snowpacks on the mountains kissed them with a cool breeze that was utterly absent in the sweltering city haze. The rich odor of a million ponies was gone, replaced by wildflowers and pines. Ahead of her on the road, Shining and Twilight bantered with each other, occasionally flicking their tails to chase off flies. The biters that didn’t take the hint vanished in tiny sparks the same violet color as Twilight’s magic.

They seemed like they were having fun. Sly took that as an opportunity to slip off the main road and slink through the bushes instead. With the racket those two were making as background, she slid through the forest unheard and unseen, more shadow than pony. A wolf a dozen feet away didn’t even twitch its ears as she passed. 

The road slowly dwindled as they left Canterlot’s environs, going from a wide flagstone-paved avenue to a thinner cobblestone path. A little rougher on the hooves, but untroubled by mud or dust. Twilight and Shining’s voices fell behind as Sly cut a straight path over ridges and across draws, until, for the first time in months, she found herself completely alone.

Her whole life had been like this, once. She paused in a hollow between two towering sycamores and listened to the birdsong and the rustle of young leaves, free, unfettered, the world at her hooves. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and let the stillness seep into her bones.

What would it cost, she wondered, to just keep wandering down the road, past Sorrow’s Ridge and the dragon waiting for her there. To not worry about the Guard or Celestia or pissing off Twilight one too many times. To keep going and be free once more.

Silence again. A dragonfly floated up from the nearby stream and alighted on the tip of her horn, frozen, poised on six needles, waiting. She stared up at it, crosseyed, until the faint sound of Twilight and Shining Armor drifted to her from the road.

She shook her head to dislodge the dragonfly and stood to stretch. A few more steps put her on the road a couple of paces ahead of the siblings. They both jumped at her sudden appearance.

Twilight, who was used to Sly’s disappearing acts, recovered first. “See anything?”

“Just trees and mountains.” Sly adjusted her armor, brushing away a few of last season’s leaves that clung to her coat. “We must be getting close to the valley, though.”

Shining Armor’s eyes were still wide as he stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time. A little spooked, maybe. After only a second or so his guard training took over, and he spoke with the same calm voice as always. “We are. We should hit a river in another mile or so. That’s our cue to turn.”

Sly stayed beside them for the rest of their time on the road. In addition to the quiet joy of their company, it was nice to hear Shining’s stories about Twilight as a foal, despite – or, perhaps, because of – Twilight’s protests and the bright-red flush on her cheeks whenever her brother started a new tale. Shining was about to start on Twilight’s first schoolyard crush when they finally reached an arched stone bridge over a noisy brook. 

“Thank Celestia, we’re here,” Twilight said. She bounded off the road and slid down the gentle embankment to the stream’s bed. The melting snows hadn’t yet swollen it to its full width, and there was as much dry gravel for them to walk along as water. Trees crowded up against the banks, some as thin as her horn, others so huge the three of them together could not have linked hooves around their trunks, and all leaning over them like pillars ready to fall. The ponies settled into a line – Sly in front, Twilight in the middle, and Shining bringing up the rear – as they marched upstream.

“Ah, come on, Twilight. What’s more fun than sharing with friends?” Sly was careful to keep her grin pointed forward, where Twilight couldn’t see it. “I feel like we’ve grown closer on this trip.”

A grumble was Twilight’s only reply. Further back, Shining chuckled but didn’t needle his sister any further. 

The next few hours passed in relative quiet, with only a few words passing between them to warn of sharp rocks or hidden pools waiting to snap unwary ankles. The sun finally broke over the mountain ridge to the east, chasing away the last of the morning’s shadows and filling the valley with warmth. The trees on either side of the stream grew thinner and further apart as they proceeded higher into the mountains. Looking back, Sly could see the road as a thin ribbon in the distance below them, easily lost between the swaying branches.

This, now, was finally wilderness. Sly unlimbered her bow and loosened the straps holding her arrows in their quiver. Months had passed since she last fired it in anger, but some skills never died. Holding the ancient bow in her magic was like stretching a muscle long unused, but ready – eager, even – to clench and flex and burst. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp mountain air, and held herself perfectly still. Poised. Her life, she imagined, was balanced on the edge of a razor, ready to fall away from the soft easy living of Canterlot and back into the violent dance of magic and bow and sword.

She let the breath out slowly. Shining Armor stopped by her side and gave the ebony bow a long, measuring stare, followed by a raised eyebrow for her.

“Nice bow,” he said. He leaned forward to peer at the at the lettering on the black wood, just beneath the grip. “Aefenrepsung?”

“Nightfall,” Sly said. She gave the string a gentle pluck, and the air filled with a deep, musical hum. Despite firing thousands of arrows, not to mention lying in a crypt for centuries before she found it, the dragon sinew string showed no signs of weakness or fraying. Long after they were dust, Sly knew, the bow and string would still be perfect, held forever in tension, waiting, wanting to kill. She squeezed the bow tighter for a moment, then started back up the stream bed.

“We must be getting close,” Twilight said. Her voice was quiet, on the border of a whisper. “I smell something burning.”

Sly smelled it too. An acrid, ashen scent that flowed down the valley. It overwhelmed the pines and mosses, filling their noses with the promise of death.

“Dragon,” Shining said. His horn glowed, and the two spears slung to his saddle detached themselves to hover just above the ground at his side. “Less than a mile, I’d guess. Keep your eyes open.”

Unnecessary advice, but Sly appreciated it nevertheless. They crept in silence for another hundred yards up the streambed, until it finally grew too narrow to fit them. Sly hopped up on the bank and threaded her way through the low trees and bushes until finally there were only moss-covered rocks between her and the highest point in the valley, where two mountains came together and rose another thousand feet into the sky.

There, halfway up the slopes, a pony-made artifact stood out from the rugged stone. Some ancient race had carved a wide shelf and several pillars out of the rocks. They were still too low to see whatever might be on the shelf, but the dragon was impossible to miss. It perched atop one of the pillars like a hawk, wings mantled, waiting for prey to wander into its gaze.

But not today. She smiled a vicious smile and slinked back down to Twilight and Shining, who huddled in the trees around the stream. They both jumped a few inches when she suddenly appeared beside them.

“It’s up on the slope,” she said, ignoring the dirty looks they gave her. “Pretty small, too. Probably a juvenile.”

“Not as big as the one…” Twilight trailed off. She looked up at the sky.

“Not even close,” Sly said. “I think it’s a blood dragon, anyway. Not… whatever that thing was.”

“Fire,” Twilight said. It was almost a whisper. 

Shining glanced back and forth between them. Whatever he may have been thinking, he wisely kept to himself. “So, what’s the plan?”


* * *


Ten minutes later the sun was nearly straight overhead. Sly’s shadow diminished to a small, dark puddle beneath her hooves. Trying to hide from a dragon at high noon wasn’t the easiest task in the world, but she was very good, and besides, Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor made for quite a distraction.

She watched them charge the last few hundred yards up the slope toward the dragon’s perch from a rocky alcove on the mountain ridge. From this position she could look down on the entire battlefield; the dragon and the odd artificial shelf were directly across the narrow valley from her, and the tips of the ridges seemed near enough to touch. This must be how pegasi felt when they flew over ponies far below.

Shining Armor and Twilight were white and purple dots moving across the lichen-gray valley floor. The dragon stirred as they approached, its tail – nearly as long as the rest of the beast – uncoiling like a serpent, and it let out a roar that shook the ground beneath Sly’s hooves. The monstrous sound rattled small rocks and pebbles free from their moorings and sent them tumbling down the slope all around her. She looked uphill, to make sure no boulders were headed her way, and then back to the brewing fight below.

The dragon, as Sly suspected, didn’t stay on the ground. It spread its huge wings, gave them a tentative flap, and leapt away from its perch to soar toward the ponies. The air trembled as it inhaled, and a wash of fire poured from its mouth to envelope them. Every tree, every bush for a hundred yards in front of the beast burst into flames as it climbed higher into the air and began to circle the valley.

Sly felt her guts clench as she waited for the pall of smoke to clear. She’d seen Twilight survive worse, and supposedly Shining Armor was pretty skilled with shield spells himself, but it seemed to defy reality that any living thing could live through that inferno. The smoke lingered far too long, and when it cleared she nearly cried out in relief to see them safe. A perfect circle of unburned vegetation surrounded them, encased in a shimmering pink field larger than anything Sly had ever seen Twilight cast.

So far, so good. Sly let out a shaking breath and turned back to the dragon. It circled high above the valley floor, but not so high above her hiding spot on the ridge. Each orbit brought it within a hundred feet, give or take, of her bow. Well within range. 

Sly stood as the dragon reached the far side of its circular path. Slowly, smoothly, she levitated an obsidian arrow from her quiver and set on the bowstring. When the dragon began another slow turn toward her, she lifted the bow and drew back the arrow. It hissed against the shelf, and the bow’s limbs creaked like old bones. They would not break, she knew; not with all her strength could she crack this weapon. Nothing mortal could.

Inhale, hold. Exhale, pause. She sighted down the arrow at the dragon’s huge form. The Wind’s Eye burned like a coal against her chest, beneath her leather armor, pressed against her heart.

There.

The arrow left her bow as if shot from a cannon. The backwash as it passed started another miniature rockslide around her hooves. The dragon never saw it coming.

The obsidian broadhead was sharper than a razor, sharper than freshly broken glass, sharper than any blade that had ever existed. Once, Sly had accidentally touched one of the black arrows against her leg in a moment of careless handling, and several minutes passed before she noticed that an apple’s worth of blood was pooled around her hooves. 

The arrow struck the soft, supple scales of the dragon’s shoulder, where wing met body. A gout of dark blood burst from the wound, and the dragon shrieked in pain. The injured wing sagged as the arrow dug further into the joint with each flap, and the dragon clawed at the air in a desperate attempt to stay aloft.

It wasn’t enough. Dragons might be powerful, but they still needed two good wings to fly. Sly watched as it careened into a ridge a hundred yards away with a sickening crash and tumbled down the valley slope to the ponies waiting below. A vicious, joyous grin stretched across her face, and she jumped down to follow its rambling descent, half-running, half-sliding on the loose talus.

Another leap and she cleared a line of rocks separating the valley’s walls from the flood plain below, where Twilight and Shining Armor waited. She leaned forward and galloped toward them as though her life depended on it.

Behind her the ground rumbled, and another thunderous roar split the valley. Sly spared a glance over her shoulder to see the wounded dragon clamor onto its three good limbs. The maimed wing hung limp at its side like a broken sail. Black, steaming blood flowed from its shoulder and left smoking pits as it splashed onto the rocks.

The shield around Shining Armor and Twilight flickered as she passed through it and came to a stumbling halt beside them. Her lungs burned with exertion, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“Anytime now, Twilight,” she wheezed. She drew another arrow and readied it on the bow, just in case.

“Cover your eyes,” Twilight said. A lavender glow built around her horn and quickly turned as bright as the sun. The last thing Sly saw before squeezing her eyes shut was a tiny red ember sparking to life just in front of her friend. An intense heat, like standing in front of a blacksmith’s forge, stung her face, and the air began to crackle from the force of Twilight’s spell.

Suddenly it was gone. Sly peeked out from behind her hoof to see the ember streak away from them toward the dragon. The stones beneath its path glowed a dull red for seconds after its passing.

And scratch one dragon. Sly’s grin somehow grew wider.

The fireball struck with all the force of a meteor falling from the heavens. A tremendous, deafening crash shook their bones as it exploded, surrounding the dragon with a wave of flame that reached to the sky. The fires flared for another moment and then, with the spell exhausted, vanished in the space of a second, leaving a tower of smoke rising from where the dragon had once been.

“Gods, Twiley,” Shining Armor whispered. 

“Wow,” Sly said. “Practicing much?”

“A little.” A smile betrayed Twilight’s modest words. Her face was slick with sweat, her lips pale and her legs shaking from strain. “Anyway, shall we see what’s—”

A deep growl sounded beyond the smoke. 

Crap! Sly drew the arrow back and sighted down the shaft. The thick black smoke thinned, and as it did it began to glow, as though lit from within. A sudden gust carried away the last of the pall.

The dragon crouched in a pool of liquid stone. It held its good wing before it like a shield – the scales glowed a brilliant orange, like an iron ingot freshly removed from the forge. They popped and hissed as they cooled.

“Sly…” Twilight started. She took a fumbling step backward.

“It’s not a blood dragon!” Sly shouted. She released the arrow, only to watch it burst into a shower of sparks as it struck the ultra-hard scales of the dragon’s crown. “Move!”

The next few moments were something of a blur for Sly. She started to run, pausing long enough to snag Twilight’s robe with her teeth and drag her into motion as well. Shining Armor needed no prodding; he bolted into action as soon as Sly took her first step. Together they half-stumbled, half-galloped across the rough valley floor.

“I think it’s a fire dragon!” Sly shouted. She chanced a glance over her shoulder. The dragon had stepped out of the magma pool and was chasing after them with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm.

“I gathered that,” Shining said. He didn’t even seem winded by their run. “Twiley, do you have any more spells like that fireball?”

“Yes, but, ah…” Twilight trailed off into a wheezing cough. Sweat lathered her coat, and every few steps she stumbled. “I can’t... I can’t keep casting those… too much energy.”

Sly licked her lips. The dragon sounded closer. She risked another look back – yes, definitely closer. “Okay, change of plans. I’ll distract it again. Shining, keep Twilight safe while she figures out another spell. Questions?”

“Yes,” Shining started. “How are you—”

“Okay, go!”  Sly broke hard to the right. Shining was a smart pony; he’d figure something out. But to do that, he and Twilight needed a few seconds without a dragon chasing after them. Sly ran away from them until she had a decent amount of clearance, and then turned to gallop toward the dragon.

Dragons never expected frontal assaults. Sly was pretty sure she’d read that somewhere. This one certainly seemed surprised – it slowed to a stop and drew back its head for another volley of flame breath.

That wouldn’t do. Sly lifted the bow even as she ran, rapidly firing a trio of arrows at the softest points on its body she could see. One sank a few inches into the dragon’s chest with no apparent effect, and the second passed clean through its wing membrane to soar another hundred yards before skipping across the ground. 

The third arrow, at least, had some impact. It struck the dragon’s thigh and penetrated just far enough to pierce the muscle, little more than a pinprick to such a huge beast, but enough to jolt it, and when the flame breath came it missed Sly by several yards. Her coat blackened and curled, the tips of her mane and tail spontaneously ignited in the sudden blast of furnace wind, and she would have screamed if the superheated air had not sucked the breath from her lungs to fuel the fires all around.

She stumbled and rolled onto the rocks to snuff out the flames. Her skin cracked and bled beneath her charred coat, but at least she wasn’t burning. For a few seconds, anyway; the dragon was less than a dozen yards away and none too pleased. Its eyes burned like coals as it took another shambling step toward her.

Sly jumped to her feet just in time to leap away from the dragon’s claws as they crashed down toward her. Scythes as long as her leg cut furrows in the bare rock and showered her with fragments of stone. Her bow came up, loaded with another arrow, and let loose again into the dragon’s chest. This time the arrow sank nearly to its fletchings before it stopped, leaving just a tiny nub protruding from the scales.

Enough, little mortal. The dragon’s voice shook her soul. Its head leaned back, and its chest expanded as it drew in the breath that would end her life. Cease being.

Not for the first time, Sly wished for some witty remark to spit back in the face of death. Instead her tongue stuck in her mouth, and she took a helpless step away from the dragon. At this range, it wasn’t a question of being hit by the dragon’s breath – simply being near a dragon vomiting its flame was lethal. There probably wouldn’t even be a corpse left for her friends to recover, just hot ashes drifting in the wind. She hoped Twilight would live.

When death came, it was not what she expected. A deafening clap of thunder shattered her hearing, a bright flash left her reeling, and when her sight finally returned the dragon seemed as shocked as she. Its head and neck were blackened and smoking. One of its eyes was simply gone, the scales around it melted like wax. The sharp tang of ozone burned Sly’s nose.

The dragon recovered first. Its good eye slowly focused on her, and it reached toward her with open claws. Just inches away from her chest they stopped, shuddered, and fell to the earth.

Huh.

Sly looked up again. The dragon was on its side, not breathing, one of Shining Armor’s spears skewering it clean through the neck. Bright drops of liquid fire leaked out from the wound to puddle on the ground.

Interesting. Sly turned to see Shining and Twilight running toward her. Their mouths moved, but without sound. In fact, the whole world was eerily silent. Something hot and wet trickled down her jawline from her poor ears; she looked down to see drops of blood pattering on the stone.

Shining Armor and Twilight finally reached her. Twilight’s eyes were wide and filled with alarm, and she grabbed Sly’s head with her hooves, tilting it this way and that. Shining’s mouth moved in silence, though from his emphatic gestures Sly assumed something had him excited.

“Am I dead?” she asked. She heard her own voice, muffled, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton.

Twilight’s response was to roll her eyes, so she was probably still alive. After a few seconds of fumbling, Shining managed to pull a glass flask from his saddlebacks. A thick red liquid sloshed within, a soothing liquid, thick as blood, that Sly knew would taste like grass and strawberries. He popped the stopper off and passed it over to her.

Sly drank the healing potion and shivered as it went to work. The skin beneath her blackened coat knitted itself whole, her ears popped, and with a sudden rush sound returned to the world. She blinked a gauzy film away from her eyes and realized her head no longer ached.

“Nevermind, answered my own question,” she said.

Twilight’s response was to thump her in the chest with a not-so-gentle hoof. “You idiot! You have a bow and arrow! I’ve seen you hit apples from a hundred yards with that thing, and you decide to run up and give the dragon a hug?!”

“That’s how distractions work.”

Twilight looked like she had more she wanted to say, but Shining Armor got there first. “Ladies, the dragon?” 

Oh, right, the dragon. Sly turned back to the beast, which seemed pretty dead. Shining Armor’s spear in its neck had caught fire and burned like a torch. Its remaining eye was dark and lifeless. It would not trouble them again, she decided.

“Nice shot with the spear,” she said to Shining. She stepped toward the dragon to retrieve what arrows she could, when suddenly the massive corpse shuddered. Beams of light leaked out from beneath its scales, and before Sly could leap away, a warm glow enveloped her, chasing away her vision. A sensation of completion, of returning home after a long journey, filled her heart.

When her sight returned the dragon was gone. A huge skeleton remained in its place, along with several of her arrows. She snatched them up with a grin and turned back to Shining and Twilight.

They stared at her, mouths agape. Sly let the moment drag out for delicious seconds before speaking.

“What, never seen a dragonborn absorb a soul?”


* * *


They had enough time to investigate the shrine before heading back to Canterlot, Shining decided. It wasn’t much to look at; just an old altar with some etchings and a large curved wall inscribed with dragon script. Twilight and Shining stopped at the altar and discussed it in low voices.

Any other day, Sly would have stopped at the altar as well, though only to collect the various valuable offerings left atop it. Twilight didn’t like that much, but she had learned to stop complaining several months back. As for Shining, he seemed too pragmatic to care.

But this day, Sly walked past the altar to the curved wall. Something about it drew her like a moth to a flame. She stared at the angular runes carved into the stone, as though by staring long and hard enough she could puzzle out their meaning. The world dimmed and faded away, and the words began to glow with their own cold light. Nothing remained but her, the words, and a chill breeze swirling around her soul.

Zul Mey Gut, something whispered in her mind. She mouthed the syllables silently, tasting them. They were perfect.

The world returned, and suddenly Twilight was by her side, also staring at the wall. They stood in silence for a bit.

“Odd, aren’t they?” Twilight said. “No one knows what they mean. The dragons only had a few high priests, and none of them survived the first war.”

“Yeah,” Sly said. She tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry as a stone. “Odd.”

“Anyway, we’ve got a long walk ahead,” Twilight said. “Ready to head back?”

Sly nodded. “I think I am. Let's go home."





Footnote: Level Up (Sly)
New Perk: Muffled Movement – Noise from armor is reduced by 50%
New Shout: Throw Voice: The Thu’um is heard, but its source unknown, fooling those into seeking it out.

Footnote: Level Up (Twilight Sparkle)
New Perk: Augmented Shock, rank 2: Shock spells do 50% more damage.

Footnote: Level Up (Shining Armor)
New Perk: Champion’s Stance, rank 2: Attacks with two-hoofed weapons require 50% less stamina.