//------------------------------// // Book Two: Chapter Seven: The Broken Wish // Story: Myths and Birthrights // by Tundara //------------------------------// Myths and Birthrights By Tundara Book Two: Duty and Dreams Chapter Seven: The Broken Wish No. The word rang in Twilight’s head, over and over. She wasn’t aware of speaking, of the word gaining voice. Or the six thousand other voices crying out her name in fear. Around her, the disc spun, Faust’s body the only thing in the universe which Twilight could see. She began to fall, tip over, unable to counteract the motion of Ioka swimming through the empty eternities of space. Somepony was there to catch her, a dark wing extending over her back. Faust… was dead. The Namegiver was dead. No. It was impossible. Faust could not die. She was the foundation on which all ponykind had been placed since before recorded history. She gave them their very names, set them on the path they’d walk the rest of their lives. For her to be gone was inconceivable. The disc needed Faust. What would everypony do when they took the draughts, when they should have heard Faust whisper the names of the foals and were instead met with silence? Panic would grip the disc like had not been known since the darkest times. The Old Queendoms, already unstable, would fall into anarchy. War, conflict, disharmony; they were inevitable. Yet it was the devastated tears beginning to well in Celestia’s eyes, her chest heaving in a heavy sob as she gripped her mother, that hit Twilight the hardest. Every fibre of her being recoiled in horror, twisted around itself, and screamed in silence. No… Twilight staggered back, slipping from Luna’s support even as she sought a denial of what was happening. Some reassurance that she was wrong. That Faust had just fallen into a deep, deathlike sleep. That everything would be fine. Such fleeting, fragile hopes were crushed by the taught rage held in Luna’s jaw. Mane darkening, then shifting to a brilliant silver hue, Luna whispered a private word to Faust, then kissed her mother on the brow a final time. “No!” Twilight spun as the denial left her, stumbling from the great cabin. Her breaths came in short, haggard gasps. She didn’t hear Luna call after her, or Celestia plead with her sister to give chase. Fleur stood half in the short, narrow passage between the great cabin and the deck that divided the two sets of cabins. Her mouth moved, and words came forth, but they were jumbled, wrong to Twilight’s ear. Pity shifted to concern when Twilight forced her way past. The ocean air was warm and close, even at night, cloying in her mouth, and forming a thick dew over canvas and wood. It was suffocating. Stealing her breath. Working through her fur as if it were a soaked blanket. Even as she succumbed to panic, a part of her worked the problem. Faust was dead. Faust must be healed. Healing magic stronger than Faust herself used to save Pinkie on Marelantis. What did she have at her disposal? Very little in her magical repertoire. Teleportation, shields, transmutation, a few enchantments, and some battle magic; all useless. What else? She had to be able to accomplish something with all her power. She was supposed to be the Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, if… Wishes? A wish? Twilight spun again, and found herself surrounded by concerned ponies. Pinkie, Rainbow, Luna, Fleur, and Captain Hardy were all there, each trying to offer what comfort or assistance they could give. She did not respond to sympathy. Time was short, Twilight was certain. They needed a miracle. They needed a wish. She separated her essence from her body without being fully cognisant of what she was about to attempt. Portions of her mind ground to a halt, were compartmentalized, so she could focus only on what needed to be done. Before she reached the heavens the sounds of the stars arguing could be heard. Sirius and a few others gathered above the Bellerophon, their lights flashing in time to their raised voices. “The mistress comes! We do not have time to argue about this anymore, Polaris.” Sirius thrust a glimmering, pointed light towards Twilight. “She comes to do as Luna did before, and cast one of our sisters from the heavens.” “Perhaps she will see reason?” There was a worried, desperate air to Polaris’ plea. Rukbat shook in a slow, sad bob. “She is torn apart, hun, and only knows she has to try something. And I can’t say she is wrong.” “So much despair and confusion. She can not understand what has happened. We all can feel it,” Mintaka lamented. “It is the night we lost Zana all over again!” Mintaka’s terrified cries should have slowed Twilight. Altered her course, warned her against what she was about to attempt. All she knew was that she had to try. That the disc required Faust, and that she was the only pony able to bring her back. “I can talk to her. She will listen to me. I am her Lodestar and guide,” Polaris shouted to her sisters, dipping lower in the sky to intercept her oncoming mistress. “Mistress… Please listen!” Twilight didn’t hear Polaris’ pleas, her mind busy with equations and estimations. She’d never formed a wish before, had no data on how it would work, or how much energy would be required. Enough for two wishes, at least. Even in her frantic state, she recalled Luna’s lessons on what it’d been like to grant wishes, and try to form one for herself. But, this wish wasn’t for herself. It was for Celestia. It was for Ioka. Polaris was powerful. One of the most powerful of her stars. Would she be enough? She had to be enough. Twilight reached out. Polaris glowed with shock mingled with fright, giving her a pink-blue hue. “No!” Sirius shouted, darting down, placing herself between her sister and mistress. “Sirius!” Several voices cried together as Twilight’s essence surrounded the Firestar. “She needs you more than me,” Sirius reached out a plaintive light towards Polaris, then she was flung from the night. Essence crackling, Twilight stared in shock at what she’d done. There was no time for reflection, for self-doubt. She was fully committed. The night sky trembled with a tremendous crack, every edge and land in between echoing with its report. The ancient magic that helped keep Sirius aloft in the sky fought her sudden motion, trying to cling to the star as she gained speed and momentum. Strengthening her grip, Twilight pushed Sirius harder against the barrier. Then the magic lost its grip, and the air around Sirius ignited as the star tumbled toward the earth. A deep throaty roar filled Twilight’s senses with noise and light, flaming tendrils of Sirius coiled about her essence as they fell together. Twilight gathered the cast-off aether, bundled and bound it about her, refused to let any escape. Sirius tried to control her fall a little, flicking a piece of her magic to one side so she began to spin and tumble. She smiled as she passed over the towns and fields of Zebrica, the land's occupants, awoken by the initial explosion, filtering out of their homes to watch the spectacle. More and more pieces of magic broke away from Sirius, the star hissing in pain. Even that was a novelty, Sirius having never experienced physical pain before. Her magic burned away in a corona of white light as she fell. Sensations that she'd never experienced before began to flood into her, and echo into Twilight. She could feel as Sirius’ magic was pulled, stretched and crystallized. Little magic escaped Sirius now, and Twilight let go, and watched in morbid fascination as Sirius completed her fall. Fire and agony filled Sirius, coursed through her new body. Pain gave way to an odd sense of pressure focused at a point before her. The light peeled back and she blinked, wind pulling at lips and eyelids. For a brief moment Sirius was neither a star, nor was she whatever she was becoming. And then she felt the oddest sensation yet, a dull throb inside her as her new heartbeat for the first time. A laugh, joyful and pure, bubbled from her newly formed throat. Wracked with laughter and screams, she fell lower and lower, entered the lower clouds, and was lost from sight. The cloud bubbled, hissed, and was pulled by Sirius’ passage until the former star burst out the other side like a golden spear. Rain splashed across her new face and onto her wings, tickling senses she'd never before possessed. The thin cords that bound Twilight and Sirius frayed further, then snapped, a void in the place where Sirius once rested in the fabric of Twilight’s consciousness. Far beneath Twilight there was a flash as Sirius crashed into the earth. The ground shook for miles as the former star dug a deep wound into rock and mud. Incorporeal, invisible, Twilight hovered over the crater, clutching the pure aether gathered from Sirius’ fall close about her, then darted off to complete her task. High above, Sirius' sisters wept, their tears showering through the night in fiery displays. As they wept they listened for the inevitable; for the Wishes. Twilight wasted no time. She did not know how long there was to accomplish her primary task. There was so much energy, more than several hundred unicorns could manage working in concert, and all of it of such an unusual, primal variety. The stars were from a time before time, when creation had been shaped by thought and dreams alone. With it, Twilight could reshape the disc to her whims. The sensations that came from so much power, it was… like tasting the sweetest nectar. For a brief moment she brushed against omniscience. She could see every outcome to every action, and change it to her own desires. Nothing was beyond possibility. Not the circumstances of birth: a pauper could become a princess, the weak made strong, the slow fast, and the comely beautiful. Not the effects of Time: hours, years, or centuries able to be spun forwards, or back as with the case of the ancient wish Twilight previously granted. The old could be made young once more, healthy and vital, the threads of Fate extended. Not the whims of Fate: bodies healed, fortunes reversed, cities restored, or destroyed. Entire nations could be risen from the ashes of history, should she have so chosen. Twilight knew she was dealing with forces beyond her ken. There would be consequences to rewriting reality. Had she been herself, not lost to despair, Twilight would have made some attempt at studying the confluence of magic and how it could reshape reality. Then she hit the first barrier. A rule. One she’d forgotten. Or, had she ever been told? It didn’t matter which. The Dead could not be brought back to Life. No, that was an error, the dead could be revived, but she could sense resistance. The God of the Dead was defending his domain from her intrusion. Preventing her from exploring avenues that ordinarily would be left open to her. His stubbornness was unnecessary. The pony Twilight sought to resurrect was not under his purview. Brushing against his mind, Twilight felt the echo of some request, of a simple, pleading wish. Granting it required essentially no effort on her part, would not even take any of the considerable energy at her disposal, and would lessen the resistance to her true goal. She granted the wish without further thought. A similar barrier was being thrown up by Cadence, protecting the strands of love binding ponies together. There was no wish from Cadence, only worry, and Twilight moved on. Bracing herself, Twilight stretched out towards the great cabin of the Bellerophon. Twilight, finally, hesitated. She had no idea how to accomplish her goal. Two schools of thought dominated on the subject of magic. The first held magic as a science. Results were repeatable. If the same runes were used in the same formation and aether was applied, identical results would be achieved no matter the caster involved. This was the magic Twilight loved, poured every fibre of her being into learning since she’d picked up her first book, and sat in the library, listening to Whisper mutter to herself as she worked on her thesis. It was the methodology of all practitioners going back to the Dark Era, and further still to even Marelantis. In contrast were those ponies who held magic as some art form, transient, shifting, and flowing through the practitioner. A living force in and of itself. One that was guided, but never truly controlled. Twilight always found the philosophy the refuge of the unlearned or uneducated. Not the stupid, per se, merely those ponies that had never received proper instruction or apprenticeship and so just didn’t know any better. This was the philosophy of Glitterdust, Twilight’s third mom the quintessential example of going with the flow when working magic. Now, Twilight had to navigate uncharted shoals, and all she could do was ride the currents and direct the course as best she could manage. Bundling together Sirius’ cast-off energy, Twilight directed her being towards Faust’s crumbling body. Traces of the dead goddess’ essence lingered in the air, like the smell of charcoal the morning after a fire. Twilight grabbed hold of these traces, and pulled, tugging on them as she would a thread. At the edges of awareness hovered the desperate pleas of the wishes being gathered by her stars, and beyond them Luna and Celestia shouting her name. Putting all the distractions aside, Twilight compartmentalised herself. A small fragment dealt with the other wishes, while the remainder focused on the task before her. Slowly, Faust’s essence was drawn back to the disc, spooling the gathered aether inside her broken, devastated body. Through the gashes and wounds, the aether spilled. Her body was like a sieve. Twilight could see the wounds more clearly now, the physical, and those deeper still that the doctor could not begin to treat. Simply returning Faust’s essence to her body would not bring her back. Being gentle would not work. Reaching further along the trail of essence, Twilight attempted to gather it all at once. Again, she flew across the disc. Not to the heavens, but westward, towards Equestria. Out over the roiling ocean, beneath a natural storm, Twilight found the greater mass of Faust’s essence. Across crashing waves stalked a ruby cloud like a wild animal on the prowl. Twilight recognised the shade, Faust’s shade, so similar to what she’d encountered in Ponyville the night of her ascension. As with Astraea, Faust was more animal than pony, a growl issuing from her at Twilight’s approach. Faust swiped at Twilight with a giant, monstrous claw, then tried to dart away. Even more determined, Twilight slammed into Faust. She could not allow another shade to be let loose on the disc. Howls and the close clap of thunder assailed Twilight as she and Faust bounced across and through the waves. Faust let out a shriek, and tried to bite Twilight or rake her with spectral claws. Using a portion of Sirius’ energy, Twilight enveloped Faust, calmed her, and put her shade into a trancelike stupor. With Faust’s essence held close, Twilight returned to the Bellerophon. She found herself at the center of another storm, this one of ponies. For a few seconds, Twilight had the experience of looking down on herself, something to which she would never get used to seeing. They clamoured about her, shouted her name, tugged at her, tried to pull her away from Faust. Her work was not yet done. Filled with so much energy, from both Sirius and Faust, Twilight moved quickly. She pulled and stretched, mended and bent, undoing the damage to Faust’s body and essence. Bandages burst into indigo flames at her touch, pieces of ash floating across the cabin, pushed by the waves of coalescing energy radiating from Twilight and Faust. Feathers grew, white, pristine, pure. Melted flesh gained new vitality, grew taut and then was covered by a soft, downy layer of fur. Ruddy rust tones gave way to a flowing ruby mane, as if it were formed of threads spun from gemstone dust. Into her restored body, Faust’s essence was thrust, bonding together as they’d been before. In her chest, Twilight felt something snap, and she fell back. All the magic taken from Sirius was gone, spent. If she’d failed, then Faust was truly gone. Faust took a deep, desperate breath, eyes flying open as she shot up from her bed. Luna covered her mouth, tears rimming her eyes at seeing her mother restored. “By the sun and moon, Twilight; what have you done?” Confusion pinched Faust’s brows together, and she slowly looked about the cabin, taking in the faces of the ponies arrayed before her. They darted over Pinkie, Rainbow, and Timely without so much as slowing, and avoided Fleur entirely. It was Celestia, Luna, and Twilight that received all her attention. “A sun, moon, and stars; faces familiar, yet not; foes? Or be you friends?” Faust asked, the ‘Royal Canterlot Voice’ deafening in such close confines. “Identify yourselves, and be quick.” Celestia darted a quick look to Luna then Twilight, and in that glance took the lead. “I am Celestia, and this is my sister, Luna, and our cousin, Twilight. Do you recognise us?” “No, I do not, and I know all the aethyr. From the mighty, who shine like beacons of order in the swirling chaos, to the low, who await the commands of their betters.” Faust shook her head. Each word filled Twilight with an ever vaster dread. Something had gone terribly wrong. Gone was the gentle, otherworldly air Faust carried, replaced by a hardened figure. Arrogant anger flashed in her eyes, with jaw set at an imperious angle. Her eyes began to glow red as Faust touched her domain, rather than the pure light every time before. “Impossible!” Faust took a step back, and the glow faded as it was replaced by shock. “How can you be my kin? We are aethyr, we do not breed as the nascent mortals do. We are pure creations, not things little better than the basest of beasts, who rut and fornicate in the fields. Yet you come from me? Me! I would think this some trick, but the Weave is clear, and none but my dearest friends, the Moirai, have the power to manipulate the strands but I.” Not moving from her spot, wings spread to hold back the others, Celestia asked, “Mother, what is your last memory before waking here?” Faust hesitated to respond, face scrunched up in thought. When she next spoke, her voice had lost its previous power so it seemed to be a whisper compared to before, though she talked normally. “Iridia and I… We had sealed Yol-Distoph, the Weaver on the Black Silk, with the others of her ilk, and spent much of ourselves in the process. Reality collapsed, or was it born? I can not say. For a time beyond count there was nothingness as we fell through a void. Iridia, she shielded us, and then we saw something in the endless blackness. A great beast born of the battle with a world astride her back. She identified herself as Ioka, and made us a bargain. We would find a home upon her disc, and in return provide protection and guidance to the civilizations she carried, spread out like jewels on her back, but to do so we would need to understand the mortals. Then… I was here.” The dreadful pit in Twilight’s stomach fell further and further as Faust spoke. A wing was stretched over her back, and when she looked up she saw Luna at her side. Leaning in close, Luna whispered, “Do not fear, all will be fine.” Next to them, Celestia continued to focus on Faust, and took a step closer. “Mother—” “Do not call me that,” Faust hissed, upper lip curled to reveal her teeth. Celestia pressed ahead. “Mother,” she said with more force, “your memories have been damaged. If you come home with me—” “I will go nowhere with you, oh sun,” Faust countered. “I do not know what tricks you mean to ply, and I will have none of them.” “I was going to suggest we find a quiet place for you to meditate and figure out how to help you,” Celestia said. “Iridia has been staying with us in Canterlot, and may be able to provide you with some comfort. Look at me through the Weave, and you’ll see that all I want is the best for you.” Faust hesitated and considered the ponies arrayed before her again. Pinkie and Rainbow, who shone with the power of their Elements; Fleur, filled with Athena’s brilliant light; Twilight, wrapped in Luna’s wing; Luna herself, who held such anger towards the one who’d harmed her; and finally Celestia, whose core blazed with love and hope; Faust saw them all so clearly in the Weave. “You have spoken only the truth.” Faust, at last, lost her defensive stance. “I do not understand what has transpired, but I see no malevolence among your number.” “Thank you for trusting us. Trust is the foundation on which a friendship is best formed,” Celestia said with great relief. She then turned to Twilight and Luna. “Sister, I would like it if you stayed with Twilight. I will send for Cadence once I’ve settled mother in Canterlot. For the time being, it is best if we are not alone. And, Twilight, please make sure Luna doesn’t go galloping off looking for a fight.” Twilight gave a slow nod, while Luna huffed and looked away. Under her breath, Luna muttered, “Fine. Keep me bridled, and let the enemy have free rein.” “Sister… Please.” “I know, it is only because you care and worry so. I will keep Twilight safe.” “Thank you. And, please, teach her more about the stars and wishes. A repeat of tonight would be disastrous.” With that, and a few more instructions that Twilight did not fully hear as her thoughts swam with guilt, Celestia teleported with Faust to Canterlot. Twilight sagged, though with relief or despair, she could not say. Her mind was torn, and now with the crisis past, she fully began to comprehend her actions. Profound weariness claimed her and almost made her collapse. She found herself helped to her bed where she quickly fell into a deep, almost trancelike sleep. Her last moments were filled with worry for Sirius, and how she could ever make amends to the now former star. A long gasp rattled from Sirius as she awoke. Hot air burned in her mouth, stung her eyes, and hung all about her. The gasp turned into a moan, then a yelp, as Sirius took in the crater within which she lay. All about her the stone glowed red-hot and burned whenever she tried to move. Her legs wobbled beneath her weight as she tried to stand. She was so weak, squishy, and in pain. Every breath stung in her raw throat, each twinge of a muscle turned into an agonizing spasm. How did the mortals stand to be so… frail? Sirius’ love and compassion for ponykind only grew as she tested out her new body. Then again, they knew no other existence. As she began to gain a small grasp of moving her legs without tripping, Sirius became aware of being watched. Her ears flicked towards the intruder, such a novel feeling, the rest of her following in an uncertain, and unbalanced, motion that sent her back to the hot ground with a thump. There was a light, foalish snicker from the gloom, and then a glowing pink cloud tumbled down over the crater’s lip. Sirius recognised the shade at once, and laughed in happy relief. “What are you doing here?” She demanded. “I thought we agreed that you would stay near Talona.” The shade bobbed and spun, and let out a series of pulses. “No, I didn’t tell Twilight or the others about you, the filly, or even Gilda. I still find your reasons not at all sound. Twilight will not hurt you or the filly.” Sirius would have frowned, or perhaps shaken her head, but such expressions were unfamiliar to the former star, and so she simply wore a deadpan stare. A shudder, quicker pulses, and the shade curled in on itself a little. “Yes, her encounter with Astraea was… difficult, but she is a good pony.” Towards the heavens the shade thrust a translucent limb, and then darted around Sirius. “What she did to me… The mistress was in pain and needed to act. It is no different than when Luna cast Zana out, except that Twilight is our true, sovereign mistress.” Sirius paused and let out a huff. “She surprised me. I didn’t think Twilight had it in her to make the hard sacrifices. Twilight earned my respect and loyalty this night.” The shade stared, and shook itself sadly. Then a new voice scraped against Sirius’ ears. One that filled her with all encompassing dread. “You never change, sis. You speak such blue! Ha-ha-ha!” Laughter, high pitched with hint of manic delight, bounded out of the night. “The Firestar! Most loyal among all our sisters, willing to turn a blind eye to the worst of flaws.” With the laughter came a burst of magic, silver-black against the dark tapestry of the fading night. Long tendrils lashed towards the shade, encircling it like a poisoned bramble patch. The shade darted back, only to be caught from behind be a second spell. A howl like a lioness caught in a trap rippled from the shade as it was pierced by the magic’s thorns and held fast in place. “No!” Sirius yelled, and tried to stagger towards the shade, only to trip over her own hooves. “Who goes there? Show yourself, coward.” “Who is this accusing me of cowardice? Why, big sis Sirius, all beat up and bruised, stinking of crimson and green.” Long cackles flowed down into the crater as a head popped up over the rim. Algol skipped down the crater, hooves hissing with each step over the still smouldering ground. “What are you doing down here, sis, among the foul stench of black spun lies? You think that thing pink? That it will help you?” Algol indicated the shade with a flip of a majestic wing. Sirius knew fear, deep, consuming fear. She pushed herself up and took a quick step back, cringing as the frog of her new hoof was burnt. Her wings spread to form a wall between her sister and the shade. Around them appeared a dozen zebras, next to each an ifrit, the fiery spirits glowing like embers. They watched the exchange with grim interest. “Get on with it then,” Sirius snapped, chest puffed out. “Kill me then, like you did our sisters.” “Kill you? So black. Black as the moonless night. I do not need to kill you, big sis, just contain you. I can not have you run off and guide some hero to ruin my plans. Some feathered, beaky, ugly hero.” Sirius cringed as Algol reached out a wing, and patted her gently on the cheek. The pat was followed by a sharp blow that drove Sirius to the ground. “Do not worry. I have made a very good friend who will take care of you. She has such a red-silver tongue. You will like her, I am sure.” Algol’s laughter followed Sirius as she lost consciousness. “Mr. Hades, can we rest for a bit?” Soir whined into his ear. Lying on his back, with hooves entwined in his mane so she wouldn’t fall. Beneath them, several hundred lengths down, the southern edge Esponya rippled by in golden fields and dry scrublands. Abruptly, the land dropped away as they flew over the edge of a mesa, and into a craggy set of hills broken by narrow canyons and thin streams, with copses of trees here and there like green tufts of hair. Birds of all sorts flitted about, with giant eagles and bright songbirds flying for a time with the pair before they headed off back to their nests. Among the dry lands, built up the sides of the hills, shone the white villages of the southern lands, red tile roofs glowing in the evening light. Narrow lanes wound their way back and forth up to the manors of lords, or castles built in ancient days when griffons had pushed north into the lands of ponykind. Colourful little figures moved about the streets and gathered in the shades of umbrella to share discussions on the gossip and news of the day over little cups of coffee. A few ponies made their way up a road connecting the village to a narrow, little bay. Rocks jutted up just beyond the headlands, with wild currents evident in the rippling choppy waters around their bleached faces. Further along stood the straits that separated Esponya from the lands ruled by dragons. “I’m getting sleepy,” Soir continued, stifling a long yawn with her hoof. Hades sighed at the constraints of Soir’s mortal body, and tipped his wings to bring them into a wide turn. As he did so, he cast a minor spell to hide his true nature. Mortals were too frustrating when they either begged for favours or prostrated themselves, especially so when he needed some service from them. A small number of ponies looked up as his shadow whistled along the street. His hooves came down, skipped lightly across the stone, and he came to a stop at the door to an inn on the edge of the village next to the lane to the bay. Soir nodded off before he pushed his way into the narrow bar that made up the inn’s first floor. A fat innkeeper, round faced and sweaty, an exceptionally ordinary member of his profession, looked up at Hades’ entrance. “We require a room,” Hades stated, and then looked behind the counter to the lines of bottles, “and a bowl of wine.” The innkeeper attempted to strike a conversation with his unusual guests, inquiring about where they were from, where they were going, and how their travels had been so far, but gave up when Hades merely repeated his orders. “Two bits for the room, and another five for the wine,” the innkeeper said, not moving to fetch the key or wine, but giving Hades a sour frown. Hades own frown grew fouler, and then he mentally hit himself. He wasn’t wearing any saddle bags, and didn’t have a pouch tied about his neck where money could be kept. To any mortal eye, he appeared utterly destitute. Turning a little so the innkeeper couldn’t see what he was doing, Hades reached into the winterlands, and from the misty realm between realms retrieved a small satchel. Held in the crook of his wing, Hades turned back so the innkeeper could see him reach inside and retrieve a narrow bar of gold marked with the crest of the underworld. Several more such bars clinked inside the bag as he moved it back beneath his wing, as if it’d been there the whole time. “This will suffice.” The bar landed on the counter with a heavy, ringing thud. “That it will,” the innkeeper agreed after he tested its weight with his hoof. He produced a key, and then set about pouring some wine while Hades went upstairs and laid Soir to rest, curled up in the single large bed. When Hades came back down, the innkeeper again tried to start a conversation, a greedy light shining in his green eye. “So, you and your daughter on a trip? Be staying long?” Hades snatched up his wine, and snapped, “She is not my daughter,” before he stomped his way out of the inn, and down the road. Thoughts in a flurry, face twisted with centuries of contained emotion, he was not stopped on his way to the shore. Rather than continue down to the docks, Hades turned off the worn cobblestones and wandered along the rocky beach until he came to the end of the headlands. Wine set down beside him, Hades stared off across the waters, heart heavy with fear for his Artemis. Alone, he drank and brooded until night fell and the stars came out. The wine was of poor quality, the kind to be expected from a small, provincial mortal establishment, nothing like the fine wines Hades collected in his mausoleum-like cellars. Which made it perfect, the bitter, almost acrid taste a mirror to his mood. Why did she run away? Why did his little filly abandon her home, abandon him? Leave him in such squalor and misery, with only a dead garden turned graveyard to occupy his gloomy thoughts? Such questions were cyclical, ran around and around in his head as he sank deeper into the wine. He allowed his natural resistance to ebb, to let the fog of drunkenness seep over him. Head on a piece of storm-tossed driftwood, he wallowed for the first time since Zeus had pulled him from Tartarus to begin their cross worlds journey. In a not-so-secret corner of his heart, Hades enjoyed wallowing, being wrapped in morose thoughts as the night settled in overhead. That was something Tartarus sorely lacked; a proper night complete with crescent moons and the gentle twinkle of stars. It was a comfort, of sorts, and soon he wriggled as the wine seeped deeper. Artemis would be fine, he told himself. She was a strong mare, like her mothers. Stronger than him, that was certain. Artemis was the only goddess other than Athena to best one of the Olympians. Niomedes, the Goddess of the Hunt, and Alke, the Goddess of Courage and Sports, both lost their duels with Artemis, though all had come away relatively unharmed from the fights. A few wild places destroyed, an army or two caught in the crossfire, but nothing so spectacular as what Zeus and Faust caused in their battle. How Hades wished he could have witnessed firsthoof his Artemis at last spread her wings. He just wished he could have spent more time with his little filly before she grew up. Bowl of wine emptied, Hades stood, intending to return to the inn and keep watch over Soir. She reminded him of Artemis, with such an indomitable spirit, headstrong, and willing to stand her ground against him. A feat few full fledged gods accomplished. A single tear fell from Hades’ eye, landing with a crystal chime upon the stone. He glanced at the impossible tear, but it was far from the second he’d shed in the last few years. With a simple motion of his hoof Hades swatted the offending tear into the ocean and once more cast his sight aloft. As he did he beheld as Sirius began her fall. Hades breath caught in his throat at the sight of the sparkling trail left by the falling star. Watching the delicate flames of the descending light, Hades opened his heart. As I sit where sea meets earth, my heart is torn in two with memories, like a sword cleft it in twain spilling my sorrow as if it were blood! The star sped up as it fell lower and lower, Hades voice mirroring the star’s descent. I miss you so much, so very, very much! My Mates are gone! My youngest daughter is dead! I miss you all so much! As the chorus finished, the first burst of magic echoed off the star. Spreading his wings, Hades lifted his head high, letting the song consume his entire being. This anguish becomes an anchor, that weighs the soul with your loss! I wish I could see you again, look into your midnight eyes, To say I'm sorry and hug you for the first time! I miss you so much, so very, very much! My wives are gone! My youngest daughter is dead! I miss you all so much! The sword pierces deeper and deeper every day, that I did not let you spread your wings and fly! Dearest Daughter, I have wronged you so, And never could I make amends for those callous wounds! I miss you so much, so very, very much! My Mates are gone! My youngest daughter is dead! I miss you all so much! The star drew closer and closer. Just as the star was over head, his eyes flashed open, staring straight into the tempest above and in his heart. Hear my plea, oh falling star, Bring back to me my lost child! Let me make amends, Let me at least say good-bye! As the final notes drifted over the narrow straits, the star flashed, and Hades ears pricked up. Somepony was attempting to intrude on his domain, inexpertly plucking at the nature of death and the pathways to Tartarus. A wry smile tugged at the edges of Hades’ mouth, and a slow, morbid chuckle left him in a slow wheeze. It took no effort, even in his inebriated state, to bar the intruder, touching on her mind briefly as he did so. On the other side he beheld a mind torn by grief, and set to singular purpose. She saw him, in turn, saw the fervent wish that infused his being. There was a ripple in the air, like two competing tides coming together at the outflow of a river. Perception was distorted, twisted, and then settled as a silver lined hole was opened before Hades. Through the rift, Hades saw the mountains and forests of the distant Taiga. The scenery was completely irrelevant, as he saw only Fluttershy. She was so beautiful, the petals in her mane glowing in the moonlight, her face framed by stars, highlighting the concern in the corners of her eyes. Her hoof was extended, resting on Iridia’s withers, the pair staring up at the night together. Around them milled a group of mortals, and it was one of them who spotted Hades and the rift the same moment he spoke. “Artemis.” The name left Hades in a rush. She spun at his voice, as did the group of ponies. Their eyes all widened, and a few of the pegasi took frightened steps back. Not so the fillies, a trio of which broke off from the adults to approach the rift. “Daddy?” Fluttershy squeaked, retreating behind her mane and the tall goddess beside her. “‘Daddy’?” queried Iridia, a curious eyebrow lifted in Fluttershy’s direction. Shrinking lower, Fluttershy blushed, and said, “Oh, um, not my dad. I mean her dad. Artemis’, that is. Hades, the God of the Dead, and Lord of the Underworld,” she gestured towards the rift, then towards Iridia, introducing her in turn. “You are unharmed,” relief flooded from Hades in a heavy wave, leaving him light, almost giddy. Two centuries of dread, building upon itself moment to moment, abandoned him. Guilt swept across Fluttershy’s features, drawing her further behind Iridia, gaze dropping to the stones between her hooves. Very softly, she asked, “What are you doing here, dad? Shouldn’t you be in Tartarus? I mean, the city needs you. Not that I am sad to see you. It is just, um, a surprise.” “I came to take you home, of course,” Hades scoffed, bridge of his muzzle curling at the ludicrous question as much as the bite in his voice. “For two centuries you have been all I could think about. How I lost you. How everything was taken from us. We were happy, once—” “We were not happy, dad,” Fluttershy’s head shot up, the glimmer of magic making her turquoise eyes shine brighter.  “Not me—her—us,” Fluttershy let out a little, pained squeak, hoof coming up to the side of her head. Concern welled in Hades’ breast. Something was wrong with his daughter. She was confused, that was obvious, and believed herself to be somepony else. Hades could see the truth writ across the fibres of her essence, even if she denied them. There were hints of a ‘Fluttershy’ lingering in the corners, small traces that contained a slight pull, but it was his Artemis before him. Hades’ jerked his head back as if he’d been bucked as realisation dawned. His Artemis had come close to being destroyed, and to survive took a mortal host. In due time, her divine spark won out over the unfortunate mortal, and reclaimed her godhood. A nigh unforgivable act. And she wished to avoid punishment. A laugh almost broke from Hades. He, perhaps of all the gods, was most fitting to judge Artemis’ crime. The souls of mortals were under his purview. Each was precious, and utterly irreplaceable. It was much as he’d feared since his encounter with Rarity. Worry persisted in distant corners that his Artemis’ fate had been no different. Seeing her, seeing what had happened, he was relieved beyond measure, and that relief stole any anger that may have formed otherwise. As much as his very fibre recoiled at the loss of any soul, he rejoiced at finding his daughter whole, and could not bring himself to judge her harshly for her actions. “It is alright, Artemis, the—” “Fluttershy!” The glimmer in her eyes grew, until little motes of light began to leak from the corners almost like tears. “My, um, my name, it is Fluttershy.” Hades sensed magic, ancient, powerful magic, within the gaze leveled on him. Magic that belonged to the stars. A potent compulsion attempted to bend his will towards her own, to make him acquiesce and even shy away. Tendrils sought pathways to the great guilt lying just beneath the surface, seeking to use it against him. Tormented as he was by the loss of near all he loved, even though an alicorn and ancient beyond the measures of time, Hades would have succumbed with hardly any resistance to the encroaching enchantments. It was one of the filly’s that broke the trance, freeing Hades before the magics could begin to work their way too deep. Darting up to the window, Sweetie demanded, “My sister! If you are the alicorn of the dead, then give me back my sister!” She made to reach for him, perhaps to grab hold and not let go until he relented, or maybe to beat her hooves against his chest, but the moment she touched the rift, the magic keeping it open broke, and the distant mountaintop vanished. Staggering back, Hades’ heart raced at the sudden vacuum left by the loss of Fluttershy’s stare. He sucked quick breaths between clenched teeth, a violent heat building throughout every muscle and sinew. Rearing, Hades unleashed a maddened howl. “Betrayal! They dare turn my precious Artemis against me?” He crashed back down with such force the rock on which he stood was split. “The fools! I will strip this world bare of every pony that ever dared to utter prayers to those who corrupted her, the greatest light of my life, bent and twisted now to their whims. Their bones will litter the towns they call home, and their souls will be cast into the bleak wastelands beyond my city’s walls. They will find no peace even in death, and should a thousand years pass, they will be barred from returning to the Font of life. For what has been done to me, I will do a hundred fold to the gods of this worlds. “No! Not every pony. Their first-born alone will know the brunt of my vengeance. Every first born foal will have their breaths stifled, from the daughter of the mightiest queens, to the poor who tend looms or work in servitude, and be thrown into a death-like slumber. Kept in this manner out of reach, tearing at heartstrings, threads of hope fraying until the living collapse in despair. I will spare none. They will scream and lament their foals as I must mine, and they will know that it is their gods who are to blame for their suffering.” He paced as he raged, back and forth, forth and back again, hurling curse after curse into the empty air. The crack in his horn healed, and Hades was filled with almost forgotten vitality. His beard, mane, and tale took on a smokey, silvery aspect, like the wisps of a ghost seen in the corner of the eye. “She thought to lure me into a trap. The stars of this world… You will learn the full breadth of such folly.” Over his withers Hades threw a mantle of death. A terrible miasmic curse, it flowed from his being, seeped into the ground to turn it fallow, and made the air cloy in the throat. Crickets fell silent, and the water lapping against the rock grew choked with the bodies of dead fish. Hades spun, and returned to the small village, a whisper of thanes appearing about him on silent wings. Tenebrae charged with reaping those who died in peace, the thanes were dark as their lord, just as grim, and devout to their duty. The air was still, and the night grew cold as Hades set hoof on the threshold to the inn. A short distance away lay the narrow gate to the village proper. Through the white painted arch flowed the thanes. Each to a different house they went and slipped inside by way of windows and locked doors. When the emerged again, they carried each the soul of a young filly, still sound asleep. Along the winding road the thanes spread, the number of young souls climbing with each house visited. If some part of Hades recoiled in disgust at the curse he spread, it was impotent against the great rage boiling through his heart. “Keep them safe, I may have need of them later,” he commanded the thanes, then he entered the inn alone. Silence gripped the taproom, empty of patrons and the innkeep long since retired to his bed. Hades looked up, to the thin boards separating him from the rooms overhead where Soir slept. Up the rickety stairs he swept, the boards too afraid to groan under his weight. A single candle, resting on the table next to Soir’s bed, flickered, and then gutted as he entered her room. She wriggled beneath the scratchy sheets, one hoof sticking out over the bed’s edge. Hades loomed over Soir, his expression equal to that of the bare face of a tombstone. He reached out with a wing, brushing back a forelock from her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled as she sat up and rubbed away the sleep. “Is it morning already?” A long yawn stretched across the little room, and she peered out the window to the golden line of light heralding the approach of dawn. When she turned back to Hades, she gave a little start, and asked, “Are you alright? You look… different.” “I will be fine,” Hades brushed off her concern and hurried her from the room. “Let us be on our way to Twilight. I am eager to meet her.” “Alright!” Soir jumped up onto his back as they left the inn, wrapping her hooves in his mane. They were over the straits when the first desperate wails began to fill the town.