Extended Holiday
Ch 124: A Wing and a Prayer
Act 18
Grif fidgeted as he strapped a heavy plate mail chestpiece on, and tightened the straps. “I come halfway across freaking Equis to give him moral support, and the day of the wedding, he’s insisting on me wearing this,” Grif grumbled loudly. “Thing weighs a ton, and moves like an elephant.”
“Ceremonial garb, Grif. If he expects to keep his favor with the people, he’s going to have to edge them slowly away from the old traditions. In other words, this wedding has to be by the book,” Vital pointed out as he cinched up another strap on his leather armor with his magic. “And you do strike an intimidating figure like that.”
“Intimidating is all it gives me. I can’t move like this. Why couldn’t the ceremonial platemail be medium or light armor?” he growled as he tested the range of movement, then let out another scoff, while he strapped on the bracers, pauldrons, and so forth. He frowned disapprovingly as he looked himself over one last time.
Pensword had just finished pinning his medals and sashes on his ceremonial armor when two Gryphons approached bearing what, for all intents and purposes, looked like a platter the size of a cookie sheet. “I think it's about to get heavier.” The Gryphon on the right shifted a hand to pull off the tray’s lid, revealing row upon row of medals, sashes, and awards.
Grif looked to the Gryphons with a deadpan expression. “I think you have the wrong room, gentlemen. I haven’t been awarded anything,” Grif noted.
The Gryphon on the right shuffled his hindpaws. Much like Grif, he also had a panther’s body. “Uh, well,” he cleared his throat, “these are meant for the Avatar, and … some of these were mailed to us by Princess Celestia to present to you for your actions in the Third Gryphon War.”
The first one at the top left bore the symbol of the Monastery of Winds. “Most of these are ceremonial orders. So long as he has these, the Avatar has the right to sit in council with Daedalus. Or he may send a representative in his stead,” the Gryphoness said as she smoothed her stubborn blue feathers back into place. The blue blurred into the smoky gray fur of her Russian Blue lower body. Her voice was clear, vibrant, and well-controlled as she trilled. “The medal in the middle there represents the rank of Avatar. You’re to wear it over your breastbone.”
“So this was sent by the Winds Father, then?” Grif asked as he took it, and proceeded to place the two medals as best he could on his armor.
“Yep,” the Gryphoness chirped cheerfully. “Along with a few authorized by Daedalus for saving his life.” She giggled as Grif struggled to pin them properly, while also dealing with the bane that was his limited mobility. “As you can see, that’s his seal on the shield. The others here are for your friends from the coup.” She nodded to Pensword, who flapped his wings, and picked up the medal. He furrowed his brow.
“Now I need to figure out where this would go on my uniform,” Pensword muttered, before nodding. He fumbled with it a few times, before finally finding a space on the bottom of his many rows of awards and honors.
Grif picked up a ceremonial dagger in the shape of a falchion sword. “And this, I take it, is the Emperor's falchion?” he asked as he fastened it. He received a nod, and then a look of scandal as he proceeded to fasten the ceremonial sashes around his chest in an X-shaped fashion. He just smiled. If he had to go out like a Hearth’s Warming tree, he was going to do it his way. He placed the engraved pauldron on his right shoulder, but refused the matching one in favor of his topaz buckler. He also refused the fancy sword belt that came with the armor for his own. Fortunately, no one had a word against him wearing Vigilance and Vengeance. As if any blade they offered could compare. The armor lacked places for any more than a couple of extra knives, and he felt naked without his usual bandolier. “I feel like a Hearth’s Warming pageant,” he sighed, looking at Vital. “Wanna trade?”
Vital just smiled back, and shook his head as the Gryphons made their exit. “Nnnnope,” he said in a surprisingly good impersonation of Big Mac.
“Your enjoying this, aren't you?” Grif deadpanned.
“After all the times you’ve teased me and edged me on, would I really do that to you, Grif?”
“I know where you live,” Grif said bluntly.
“And that makes two of us,” Vital finished.
Pensword grinned, and started giggling. “Vital learned teasing!”
“He can be taught!” Vital said with a satirical smirk.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” Grif said good-naturedly. “Wonder where Hammer Strike is.”
“Probably helping Rarity get ready. She takes a long time to decide sometimes. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll help speed things along for her. What do you guys think?” Vital asked.
“Depends on if they decide to do some marital stuff first,” Pensword muttered. “Admittedly, this is the most dressed up I have been in a long time.”
“What about the wedding?” Vital countered.
Pensword rolled his eyes. “Okay, it feels like a long time.”
Vital reared up on his hind hooves, and struck his forehooves to his chest. “Oh, the feels. The feels!” Then he dropped back onto the ground, and burst into a fit of laughter, before finally stopping to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah, we’ll make sure to bring it up in the wedding speech when you and Trixie finally tie the knot,” Grif chuckled.
“Only if you do it while performing the closing musical number from the first Shrek movie, including choreography.”
“You do realize we’re in a world where Ponies fall in line to a broadway standard musical number at the drop of a hat, no prep time needed, with choreography included, right?”
“Eeeeyup,” Vital said with a grin. “Seriously, can you imagine how much fun a number like that would be?”
“Well at least Trixie would probably enjoy it more than Sunset,” Grif chuckled. “She seemed more the AC/DC type.”
Pensword’s ears twitched and he began to hum the beginning of Thunderstruck.
“I figure I’ll introduce her to Queen or The Beetles,” Vital said with a shrug. “Both are great groups.”
“No Rush?” Grif chuckled.
“Why would I rush?” Vital asked, confused.
“Rush? The rock band? 2112? The Temples of Syrnx? Really, how have you not heard of them?” Grif actually looked shocked.
“Nope. Not ringing any bells.”
“Well, now I know what you're doing all the way back to Equestria.” Grif chuckled as he finished a few last minute adjustments.
Vital raised an eyebrow. “You have copies of their music?”
“What? You think I went home with a nigh infinite amount of money and storage space, and I didn’t pick up everything I could get my hands on?” Grif asked
“Well, we did have some nice money, and Rush is a good band. A little hard for me, but a good band,” Pensword pointed out.
“Okay, fair point. Speaking of home, though, I wonder if the governments decided to invest money into interdimensional travel, just because of their encounter with us,” Vital said.
“Well, if they did, they’d be generations away from it, and it would be highly improbable that they would connect to our world on their first try. Maybe a furry world, but more than likely a turn left world that is almost the exact same as their world.”
Vital shrugged. “Probably. But then again, that’s getting a little too deep.” He turned back to Grif. “So, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Let’s get this circus moving. Clowns first,” Grif gestured to Vital.
“And here I forgot my makeup. What a shame,” Vital shot back as he made his way to the door, and held it open for his friends.
Grif cracked his neck. “Out of the frying pan, I guess,” he mumbled as he exited the room.
“And down into a burning ring of fire?” Vital quipped.
Pensword facehoofed. “Now I have Johnny Cash stuck in my head.”
Trumpets echoed through the large stone hall. The overall structure and design reminded Pensword of Westminster Abbey. The tall ceiling seemed to be made up of numerous arches with massive stone columns standing in two parallel straight lines. Armed guards lined the sides of the area, each armed with large steel halberds. Gryphon nobility arrayed in fancy armor and intricate clothing covered most of the front area. In front of them were the clan lords. And in front of the clan lords hung five banners bearing the five regions of the Gryphon Empire. Beneath them stood the two surviving kings who had remained loyal to Daedalus, as well as Gareth Farflyer, Jorrund Bloodfeather, and Brunhilda Warbeak. Vital Spark, Hammer Strike, Rarity, Trixie, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Bellacosa were shown to a spot near the nobility. Shrial, Avalon, Kalima, Thalia, and the cubs were escorted to a space by the Emperor's own clan, beside Genevieve. Gilda was placed with the other family guards nearby.
Grif was led alone to the front to stand beside Jirrac, who stood at the altar in his robes, the Book of Winds laying on the pulpit before him. When Grif took his place, he could see the reactions from the crowd: glares, smiles, looks of fear and consideration. He could feel eye’s sizing him up, looking for weaknesses, or trying to take in every inch of him for memory. As he turned to the crowd, he could see the colored lights appear on the ground as the covers over the stained glass windows that depicted the four winds and their children were removed.
“Jirrac,” Grif said calmly, “I hope this isn’t as aggravating for you.”
“Of course not,” Jirrac said shakily. “I’m only a no account monk who was put in this position at the suggestion of the Avatar of Winds, who now has every single eye in the room on him. What's there to aggravate?” he chuckled nervously.
“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Grif sighed. Nearby, a dozen or so monks formed of different songbirds flew into the hall, and formed up on nearby benches. They began to sing in unison, while an unseen band began to play. Daedalus appeared at the end of the hall in his own ceremonial armor. It was all Grif could do not to laugh at seeing the gold trim engraved armor polished so dedicatedly it could probably blind you. Daedalus looked entirely unprepared as he attempted to keep a dignified show of walking down the aisle at pace. He was followed by his three chosen shield Gryphons, and then six or so heavily armed color guardsmen. When the group finally reached the front, the guard fanned out, forming a bowl-like formation around the altar.
Daedalus looked to the altar, and nodded his head to Jirrac, before turning to Grif. There was an awkward moment where Grif Realized neither he nor Daedalus knew the proper etiquette. Was he supposed to lower his beak? Was Daedalus supposed to lower his? Thinking quickly, the black Gryphon improvised as he stepped towards the emperor, placing a talon on the younger Gryphon’s head, and lowering both their beaks till their foreheads touched. This was an action as old as the Empire itself, and served as a sign of mutual respect for the other's station. Grif silently prayed that he wouldn’t start a war over this. The sight of the approving glances of the monks helped to lower his fears. Upon Grif’s return to his place, the music changed to something almost resembling the Equestrian bridal march as new figures appeared at the entrance to the room.
First through the doors were the personal maids of honor for the Gryphoness, who would be waiting on her every need as they would come with the bride. Even if they were on loan from Daedalus, Melody still came through with her escort forming behind her, and acted with poise befitting the event. However, it was not the bride the audience was watching as gasps filled the room. Instead, all eyes fell on the symbol the guards wore, a hastily crafted vestige of a familiar cutie mark shone on all the guards’ badges to denote the “clan” they “came from.” Then the eyes fell on the Pony that dared to lead Melody to the altar in the place reserved for the father. Pensword kept his eyes forward as he tried his hardest to keep a panic attack from becoming visible. One final guard held the flag of Pensword’s clan high in the air for all to see, so they could know from which clan this Gryphoness hailed.
The reaction was quite mixed at this sight. Some glared daggers at the bridal party, and some seemed not to care at all about the Pony in it, or seemed to simply be trying to ignore the fact he was a Pony. But there were also those who smiled at the sight, some who pointed and whispered in hushed tones about the signs of the changing times. A few said silent prayers in thanks to the South Wind, and to Grif himself, that they lived to see such a thing. Perhaps this Avatar would bring about great change after all.
When Melody finally arrived at the front, Jirrac reached beneath the altar, and produced a bundle wrapped in leather. He placed it beside the Book of Winds, and unwrapped it to reveal a long, thin dagger. Despite being well cared for, it still bore the telltale marks of time. The symbol for Daedalus’s family had been carved near the hilt. Beside it lay a large ruby with familiar holes drilled on either side. Lastly, a small bowl made of a familiar blood-colored stone laid in wait. Jirrac turned to the Book of Winds, and opened it carefully. The music ended the moment the book hit the stone.
“My friends, my people, warriors, scholars, monks, and merchants alike. Today is a glorious day! Here, on the ninth year of the reign of our beloved Emperor, we come to watch as he commits himself to the great destiny that the South Wind wants for every Gryphon: love. It is on this day that His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus the Survivor marries Lady Melody Pen, a prophetess within our own time!” He was greeted by loud clapping from most of the nobles and clan leaders. “Truly, we live in times unlike any ever recorded, nor that I think shall ever be recorded. We have been blessed with an emperor who is wise and gracious, and a prophetess whose gift shall surely help him to rule in prosperity and victory. And so we meet here today, facing the South as the wind blows strong outside to celebrate this union. It is to my duty as the Winds Father, head of our order, and the one offering guidance from our beloved deities, may they one day be returned to us–.” Each and every Gryphon in the room, Grif included, proceeded to thump their left hand on their right thigh, and lower their beaks to stare at the floor. No one spoke for a long minute. “–That I read the words of the prophet Berenziath, who wrote these words in the year three hundred and thirty five of the first reclamation by the Winds.”
Looking into the book, he read, “Blood and stone. For the blood is the life, and the water of life to all things living. And the stone is the foundation of the earth, the bones from which we build. When mates sealed in love do wed, let blood and stone be wed as a symbol of it. For he who would not shed his blood for whom he does love should not know love.” Jirrac cleared his throat. “Further, let the bloodline that would put his head above all others test the new blood, the stone blood, with his blood and his mate’s blood. Let it be first tested within the bloodstone.” Jirrac’s talons shook as he finished, and reached towards the knife. “Daedalus, Emperor of Gryphonia, you claim this Gryphoness to hold a place in your heart. Would you spill a drop of your own blood, to be tested and tried, and show that you and she would be worthy?”
Daedalus lifted his talon hesitantly to the shaking talons of the Winds Father. “I would prove as a testament to all that she would make me worthy,” he said.
Grif watched Jirrac’s continually shaking hand preparing to cut his emperor with the knife. At this rate, Jirrac was likely to bleed Daedalus out by accident. “Perhaps, Winds Father, it would be more appropriate for me to test the blood,” Grif offered gently as he ushered Jirrac aside, and got the knife from his hands. With expert precision that came from years of practice, Grif took a single talon of daedalus’s, and pricked it, turning it to let the blood drop into the bowl. He released Daedalus, who was given a cloth by one of his shield Gryphons to cover the wound. Then Grif turned to melody.
“And you, my lady? A drop of blood to prove your worth?” he asked.
“A drop, for now, I shall give. Though the events of this offering shall be but a shade compared to the brighter future that awaits us. What I lose now shall be returned ten fold, if not more,” she said as she offered her talon.
Grif took her finger, and pricked it as he had Daedalus’, letting her blood drip into the bowl, before releasing her. He swirled the bowl a few times. After a few seconds, the bowl burst with a bright golden light that illuminated the faces of the four closest Gryphons, before dying away. Grif nodded, and handed the bowl to Jirrac, who looked a good deal calmer now that the moment for shedding blood had passed. The Winds Father gave Grif a grateful bob of the head, before turning to face the crowd.
“And so it is that the Winds, even in their exile, still show us their favor. Another imperial bloodline has been affirmed.” As he spoke, he poured the contents of the bowl carefully into the holes in the gem. This revealed that each hole was, in fact, a part of a different tract. As the blood filled the channels, the symbol of Daedalus’ clan became plain. “Let the stone show from this day forth that those who stand before me on this day are His and Her Imperial Majesties. I give you Emperor and Empress Daedalus. So let their blood stone sit amongst the royal jewels forever.” And with that, the room erupted in applause as the two Gryphons before him kissed. Jirrac looked to Pensword. “And so it is at the end of this ceremony that I ask you, do you give up responsibility for Lady Melody to Daedalus, trusting in him to care well for her?”
Pensword nodded his head. “I do. I hereby also give up my right and command of those who have guarded my daughter while under my Clan’s name to show support, and as part of her dowery. May your clan grow stronger with the talons and blades of my warriors,” he said as he bowed his head respectfully to the new emperor.
“And so I, as the Winds Father, do recognize this pairing in the name of the Winds, and do bless it. May your future be prosperous. Go with love, my friends,” Jirrac offered.
Grif left the altar after the couple as they moved down the aisle to the exit. No one else moved, until the three of them had left, and the door closed behind them. When the trio had finally gotten to a secluded corridor, Grif embraced the new couple in his wings.
“I’m new at this, so let's see how this goes,” Grif told them through his chuckles. He looked at Daedalus. “You have many years. Be wise and be healthy. Never be afraid of war, but never take peace off the table. May the Winds always give you the pleasant thermals to ride. And when the time comes, may you be a good father. Remember, it takes nothing to be cruel. It takes everything to be kind. Don’t take the path of least resistance.”
Grif turned his head to Melody. “Be a good Empress. Keep him in line, and remind him that there is still much to improve out there. Trust your visions, but always remember the future is fluid, and it’s what we make of it that matters. May you always have the wisdom to hold your tongue when necessary, and the courage to speak up when right. May you always find favor in his eyes, and remain his favorite one, no matter who comes along. May your seasons together be long, and your seasons apart be few. May you enjoy the warm springs and hot summers of your lives in happiness and joy, and may the winters keep you basking in each other’s warmth. Be a good mother, and don’t be pressured by the stuffed shirts. None of this “only a single heir” business. If you want kids, you have ‘em, you hear me?” Grif chuckled as he hugged them close. “May we change the world together. This is my blessing for you two. Take of it what you will.”
Melody looked at Daedalus with an impish grin. “Oh, cubs are definitely in the cards.”
“I … need an adult?” Daedalus chuckled nervously.
“Go on, you two. Go get ready for tonight. I need to get out of this pile of scrap metal.” Grif chuckled as he slipped away, and turned towards the main hall.
“Apologies, my dears.” Grif smiled as he approached his family, Gryphons around and above them making there exits as quickly as possible. “Last minute business I needed to take care of.” He turned to the grey-and-blue figure nearby. “And Genevieve, it’s a pity I wasn’t able to see you until now. How goes the training? I keep telling Rainbow Dash she’ll have a challenge this year.”
“With what I’ve seen, it’ll be a challenge worthy of stories to tell our cubs,” she said with a smile. “Imagine Celestia letting one of her key element holders compete in a competition that could either ground or lay her up for months. If she’s really willing to take that much of a risk, then the stories I’ve heard about the mare must be true.” She grinned widely as she sat down, her tail swishing in anticipation.
“Oh, she has her merits. I do hope Gryphonia has a strong fencer this year, though. I do plan to enjoy thrashing him or her quite soundly.” Grif chuckled as he hugged her.
“Careful with those words, big shot, or they might just find an honorable way of bowing out,” Genevieve countered with a playful click of her beak. “You might want to create a stage name, just to keep it interesting.”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” Grif chuckled. “I came all this way, and these scant few hours will be all the time we have together. Tomorrow, I head back to the fort, and you head back to training.” He kissed the top of her head, before stepping back.
“Which means we’d better make the most of it,” Shrial added.
“And we should probably start by introducing her to the children. Don’t you think, Grif?” Avalon asked.
“That's not a bad idea.” Grif smiled at the thought. “Now tell me where those two little–.” He felt a tugging at his crest. “Now how did they get up there?” He chuckled as he smiled. “Genevieve, these are Athena and Gentle Wing, my daughters.”
Genevieve stepped forward, and cooed as she extended a talon to rub under their beaks. “Well, hello there.” Genevieve chuckled as the two nuzzled her fingers. “I’m going to be your next mommy.”
“And,” Grif smiled as he retrieved a bundle from Avalon, “this is my son, Tazeer.” He moved the surface of the blanket to reveal the sleeping cub. A few gentle hoots mixed with a feline purr indicated the nature of his dreams as his head twisted back and forth to nuzzle further into the blanket.
“Oh, my. Someone must be enjoying himself,” Genevieve said as she smiled down on the speckled face of the cub. “And what a unique name for the first male. You never were one to keep to tradition, were you, Grif?” she asked teasingly.
“It was his momma’s choice,” Grif chuckled. “And if I had kept to tradition, I’d probably be dead.”
“And I’d be one very disappointed wife,” Avalon said with a chuckle. “After seeing how soundly you beat the competition, I can see why Grif was so drawn to you. You’re a fighter, like Shrial over there.”
“We’re going to have to have a race some time, just to see who’s faster,” Shrial added with a wink. “I haven’t had that kind of a competition in ages.”
“It is going to be fun,” Genevieve said with an impish grin. “We can race after Grif and I are married.”
“That's the part I’m looking forward to,” Grif said with a playful growl.
“Just don’t break the time barrier, darling. You know how upset that makes Dinky,” Avalon added absently with a wink.
“Anyway, we need to go get changed. I need to get out of this mountain of steel. Will you accompany us to the room, my lady?” Grif asked as he turned to Genevieve.
“Only if I can help with you divest yourself from that armor,” she purred.
“That's an invitation I’m not going to refuse,” Grif chuckled as they headed for the door with wives and cubs in tow.
Night Terror stood at the front gates of the Thestral longhouse. Her batwings fluttered anxiously as she waited. She’d been told that she would be joining another sister, and they would both be taught together to gain knowledge and a certain amount of training. She didn’t know who this Thestral was going to be, but it was likely to be another young foal half her age who still knew more about the culture than she did.
“Um … hello. Are … are you Night Terror?” a timid, wispy feminine voice asked.
Night Terror turned her head in surprise, shocked that a Thestral was able to sneak up behind her, only to stare. “W-wait a minute. You’re Fluttershy, aren’t you? I thought you were supposed to be a Pegasus. Did something happen? Why do you have the wings like mine?”
“I … sort of went through a change. It was an accident, but it turns out it was a happy one.” She smiled, and despite her fangs, somehow managed to still look cute.
“But ... but,” Night Terror stammered. “You’re a Pegasus!”
“Actually, it turns out my family tree is one of the older Thestral lines. It’s just a few generations back, they were cursed to be Pegasi. That’s why my flying wasn’t very good growing up, except for when I let myself get angry. Now that I’m in the right shape, things are … well, better.”
“Better?” Night Terror asked. “How does that even make sense?”
“Well, I’m more confident in myself than I was before, for one. And I don’t have to feel so bad about being assertive. When I tried doing it before, it sort of got out of hand. It turns out it was because of the Thestral in me trying to get out. The spell was like one of Mister Beaver’s dams. It held everything back in a tight space. When I tried to release some of the pressure, it came out too forcefully, and I turned into a big meanie. Now that the dam’s clear, the stream can flow naturally again, and I can be the me I was always supposed to be, the Element of Kindness and a confident mare.”
“I am ... glad to hear that, Dame Fluttershy.” Princess Luna’s voice carried out from the open doors to the longhouse. “I hope you will show that kindness to young Night Terror Blueblood as well. Come, the both of you. Tonight, we will be speaking of the founding of our lands, and certain myths from our culture. Follow me below, and we can begin our lesson.”
Night Terror’s eyes widened as she looked at Princess Luna. “Y–you’re our teacher? But why would you deem us–?”
“Because I am the High Chieftess, and I feel it is my duty to help the both of you, as well as my honor.” She bowed her head slightly to Fluttershy, who blushed, and hid behind her long mane. “Come, my little foals of the night. Come, and learn under my moon-washed wings.” Her voice carried melodically through the crisp night air as she turned, and spread her wings wide over the entrance, then waited for the two thestrals to step underneath. Fluttershy did so happily, then looked back, and beckoned cheerfully with a hoof. Night Terror followed rather nervously, and kept close to the element bearer’s side. Far better to be under her protection than to risk crossing swords with an ancient and far wiser ruler. She may have been new to the era, but research had shown Princess Luna was no slouch at adapting to her surroundings. Night Terror would have to be careful to avoid exposing her role as a spy. Luna simply smiled kindly at her as she led the pair inside, and closed the doors behind them. Yet, as the last rays of the light touched those shining orbs, Night Terror thought she caught just a hint of pity.
“So, do you eat meat?” Night Terror asked as the light from Luna’s horn guided their steps, before sliding a complicated stone trap door out of the way by spinning a series of wooden tumblers to line up properly. The original image of a Thestral with her wings covering her eyes changed to spread out welcomingly as it smiled with wide eyes, each pulsing with a tiny moonstone at its pupil. As the new dim light shone, Night Terror noted, with some surprise, how her coat had started to take a shine to it, and the dark was easier to see through than it had before. Had all of this really been denied her, just because she hadn’t been allowed to try meat before? That … didn’t mean she liked it, of course. It was revolting, but … at the same time, she couldn’t deny the results.
Fluttershy shook her head. “No. My family is part of a rarer strain.” She giggled as she pulled out a large apple from her satchel, and bit into it, sucking its juices dry. “My family line is based off of vampire fruit bats.”
“But, they’re a delicacy for the rest of us, aren’t they?” Night Terror asked, confused.
“Because,” Luna smiled as the doors opened to show a set of carefully carved spiralling stairs, “we first started eating them to prevent competition between the two juice drinkers. And Fluttershy, you can eat the apple as well. While it is good to drink it dry, as a Pony, you still need the fiber.” She started down the stairs. “Night Terror, while tonight will be taught about the Fruit drinkers we call our cousins, you will also hear about the founding of House Blueblood, and when that event took place. Truth be told, your house was among the most staunch supporters for Thestral rights and integration.” She vanished around a corner, prompting the two to step forward, and follow her voice.
“In fact, they were the ones that took up arms to protect my children, after my … incident. They bought up strips of lands to act as a buffer, and garrisoned them with guards and other troops to prevent angry Ponies from taking revenge on an innocent people for my … for Nightmare Moon’s actions. They cared about honor and justice in the eyes of the law above all else. It was a trait we admired greatly in your ancestor.” Luna sighed, and shook her head. “Which is why I weep over the status of your house today. Though it warms my heart to have learned that you are to inherit the Night Woods, for those woods are they that Blueblood used to guard my Thestrals long ago. It will bring us great pleasure to know that a Thestral controls those lands again.” She stopped at a door, and turned to address the pair.
“Come now, Fluttershy, Night Terror. For tonight, this place will be your hall of history. Come in, and learn the truths and mysteries of your past, that you may find yourselves a better future.” Luna smiled as she pulled open the heavy stone door with her magic to reveal a room carved from black obsidian and covered from floor to ceiling in gems of all shapes and sizes to replicate the stars and planets at night. A massive moon stone had been affixed to the ceiling, bathing the rest of the room in its gentle light, and causing the other gems to shine. She chuckled as she looked on the two mares’ awestruck faces. “This is but a small piece of the skills your families will teach you in the coming days. While Thestrals are well known as warriors, we are also fine craftsponies. Now then, about that history lesson.”
A couple hours later, after having met up with Pensword, Vital, Hammer Strike, and their assorted entourage, the group found their way into the banquet hall. Grif was relieved when they were shown to an off-to-the-side table near the front of the room.
“Finally, a place out of the limelight,” Grif said as he took the seat he was shown. “I feel like people have been staring at me for the last month, and we haven’t even been here a week.”
“You are a national icon,” Vital pointed out. “It’s only natural to feel that way.”
“I also think Pensword’s going to go nuts, if he has to be this close to hundreds of Gryphons in a single room for much longer.”
“Even with his family here, who happen to also be made up of several Gryphons?” Vital countered.
“You’re clutching that butter knife pretty tightly,” Grif commented idly to Pensword.
“Vital,” Pensword began, “until you’ve bathed in the blood of your enemies, seen your home torn down and burned to ruins, watched the aftermath of your own people devoured and eaten, whose bones were strewn like discarded garbage, I highly suggest you don’t even come close to attempting to ask me to calm down. I am surrounded. This could very well have been the hall I would have been brought to, if I was captured.” Pensword paused to take a shaking breath. “Just ... Grif is closest to knowing what I’m feeling right now.”
“For the record, I wasn’t asking you to calm down. And secondly, Grif, you clearly win this debate. I concede.” Vital bowed his head, and sighed. “Sorry, Pensword. I didn’t mean to push those buttons.”
“It is okay. I am most likely tense and blunt from being on edge. Just … I will be feeling a lot better when things wrap up,” he whispered as he watched the servers bringing their food on platters.
“How are you doing with all this?” Grif asked Hammer Strike as the first platter was dropped expertly before the lord.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “As tense as things can be, I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Guess it helps that most of the people in this room are terrified of you, huh?” Grif asked.
“Their fear does calm me somewhat, yes.” Hammer Strike gave a faint grin.
“Plus, I guess you’ve determined just how long it would take to massacre the room with the silverware?” Grif chuckled as the serving Gryphon stiffened a bit, but managed to keep composure.
“As though I actually need a weapon.”
“Darlings, I think we’re causing a bit of a scene. Perhaps we should try toning down on the talk of killing for a while?” Rarity suggested.
“If we have to,” Grif sighed. “So, Rarity, is Ponyville fielding any other teams, rather than just the team emblem flight race?”
“Oh, I’ve been asking around,” Rarity said with a smile. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the team I’ve put together for the fencing competition.”
“Oh, I dunno. Pokey’s good as far as Ponyville goes, but to my knowledge, he’s never gotten very far in tournaments,” Grif shrugged.
“I did say team, Grif,” Rarity said pointedly as the server slid her platter into place, and she smiled back at her. “Ah, thank you, darling. I appreciate the hard work. Please, send my compliments back to the chef. It smells positively heavenly.”
“I hope they remembered most Ponies are vegetarian,” Grif noted. “Or at least you and Trixie are.”
“Fairly certain they did, Grif,” Rarity said as the steam cleared to reveal a hearty vegetable stew filled with beans, squash, spinach, onion, potatos, peppers, and a blend of herbs and spices. “Mmm. Positively delectable.”
Grif chuckled as he took a bite of his own venison. “Glad they were able to accommodate you.”
“My guess is they don’t want to risk causing offense,” Vital pointed out as he looked to his own stew. “Mom used to make stuff like this in the winters back home. If this is even half as good, I know I’ll love it. And if it’s more … well, I guess I’ll just have to send you all a postcard from heaven.”
Pensword gave a look to Vital before tucking into his own meat pie dish. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Lunar Fang and Moon River both rubbed his back to try to keep him calm.
“Well, enjoy it. We’ll probably be heading out first thing in the morning,” Grif told Vital.
“That mean we’re sleeping on the ship tonight?”
“Likely, yes,” Grif nodded. “Make sure you have your things packed.”
Pensword snorted. “Been packed all trip. Living out of my pack has been good for me,” he groused. He paused as his ears twitched. One of the rental guards from the ceremony approached, now bearing Daedalus’ crest on his uniform.
“I bear word from the Empress. She asks for your audience this night, that on the morrow, you may leave with knowledge fitting her father and friends, knowledge to aid in times of need for the near future, and the far.”
“When does she want to see us?” Grif asked.
“When the meal ends.”
“Did she specify exactly who she wanted?” Vital asked.
“The names on this scroll.” The Gryphon laid the scroll on the table, then rolled it out for them to read.
“Okay … wasn’t expecting that. I guess the packing’s going to have to wait, then,” Vital said.
Pensword snorted, and shook his head. “This is why I live out of my pack. You never know when last minute events happen.”
“It sounds like this one may take some time for you, gentlecolts,” Rarity mused. “We’ll see about helping with the packing, just in case. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to try that new packing spell Twilight wrote out for me. Apparently, it’s something Star Swirl designed back in his earlier years of wizardry. They seem to be a bunch of nonsense words, but Twilight swears by them.”
“If it’s the spell I think it might be, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Vital said with a mischievous smile.
“Well, if you say so, Darling. I suppose we should all just dig in, so you can get going. It’s not polite to leave royalty waiting, after all.”
Hammer Strike and the gang were sitting in a very opulent room. Gilda stood guard stoically by the door, her hand resting idly on the sword at her belt. The private chambers were much like Luna’s when entertaining audiences at the night court back at Canterlot, though without all the drapes and pillows. Like the rest of the fortress, the room had been carved out of cold stone. Its walls rounded to make a large cylindrical structure. Tapestries and an ornate wooden table with a series of chairs and cushions surrounding it waited for potential guests and audiences. The rest of the walls had been decorated in gold leaf with paintings of past Emperors, both from Daedalus' family and the lines of the past. Grif walked up to the painting of Empress Warbeak, while Vital Spark, Pensword, Day Moon, and Hammer Strike examined other portions of the room.
Warbeak stood tall and intimidating, a rather impressive feat for the laughing falcon/persian cat mix. She held a large double sided long bearded battle axe at her side, and wore engraved plate mail armor. The portrait seemed to almost note her diminutive size on purpose, likely because the empress had been proud enough not to hide her shorter stature. Like Queen Elizabeth The First, many a male Gryphon had found this Gryphoness’ temper lethal during her time on the throne.
“Now she was a true warrior for change,” Grif laughed.
“Is that so?” Vital asked as he circled round to join his friend. “Mind if I ask what she did? Clover doesn’t plan on putting me through cultural studies till after I’ve at least become fluent in the branches of magic she’s set out for me.”
“Do you know how many Gryphonesses fought during the Third Gryphon War?” Grif asked.
Vital shook his head. “I remember you and Shrial mentioning females weren’t well treated back then, though, so I’m guessing not many?”
“One.” Grif wrapped a wing around Shrial. “And she was only there because she and her father where the last of their clan, and he didn’t want to trust her well-being to servants. At that point in time, Gryphonesses were meant to either give birth, cook and clean, or look pretty, depending on their age and current station in life. They were taught the bow, but other than that, they weren’t permitted to learn to fight or carry weapons. They weren’t allowed to rule, and all property they owned was at the discretion of their husband or father. That is, until Warbeak’s father, King Reginald Warbeak, successfully carried out a coup d'etat, and took the crown for himself, and then was promptly killed in battle two-and-a-half months later.
“Warbeak masterfully planned the assassinations of all her father’s male heirs who would be of age, until she was crowned Regent Empress of Gryphonia, a title that would last either until she married or her younger brother came of age. It turns out, you see, that her father had been using her as a sparring partner in secret for a good portion of her life before he died. He was of a smaller stature, like her, and so skilled in battle that taller Gryphons couldn’t beat him, or so it’s said.
“It only took her a year to convince her brother to abdicate the throne, not out of fear of her, but of generally not wanting to be involved in the affairs of state. From there, she proceeded to destroy every male who would oppose her, sometimes through intrigue, sometimes through open combat, where she donned armor made by Wilthbert Hardbeak, one of the greatest armor smiths of the time, and a little known supporter of the rights of Gryphonesses. She was a terror in any battle when she wielded her father’s axe.
“Within five years, she had been declared the full empress, without complaint. Within ten years, she’d rearranged our social structure, giving females more rights. And within twenty years, she had introduced Gryphonesses into the military. She accepted no opponents. She killed all challengers. And no Gryphon intelligent enough to live ever spoke down to her in any fashion. She had three husbands, and birthed somewhere along the lines of fifteen heirs.
“Unfortunately, her imperial line ended with her grandson. He was younger than Daedalus, when he took the throne, and never saw the coup coming. Still, as you may have noticed with Brunhilda, her bloodline survives to this day.”
“I never would’ve guessed. She must be very humble about her lineage,” Vital commented as he gazed into the painting’s eyes. Then he chuckled. “I bet she would’ve fancied you, Grif.”
“I can’t know. She lived and died in the time between now and the Third Gryphon War. But I don’t think it matters. I did all right in the end,” he said with a smile. “And I’ll be telling them just that when I see them tonight.”
A side door opened, and Cosy walked out of the room with wide eyes as he made his way to one of the chairs. Pensword immediately walked over to check on him with Day Moon in tow.
The guard who had escorted Cosy out looked impartially over the group. “Day Moon, the Empress will see you now.” The white Thestral looked nervously to his adopted father. An encouraging nod and a gentle smile of assurance nudged the foal in the right direction, and he began his slow approach to the guard and the room beyond. His simple tunic helped to stave off the chill of the stone as he passed through the doorway and its twin green dragon carvings on either post.
He was led down a hallway that shone with glowing stones and tiles polished to the point where Day Moon could see his reflection. At last, they came to another door. The guard pulled it open, then motioned for the foal to enter, before closing the door behind the foal. Day Moon was on his own now.
The Thestral turned to take in his new surroundings. The room was surprisingly different compared to the rest of the palace. Greenery and foliage lined the walls. It didn’t take him long to deduce they were an artificial reproduction, but the effect was stunning. It like it was like stepping into a forest glenn.
A rough stone table stood in the middle with six empty seats. A series of runic symbols had been carved onto its surface. The newly dubbed Empress Melody sat at its head wearing only a lightweight hooded cap. Three plates and two cups sat in front of her. The remains of the separate meals: a ham hock bone and a few stray pieces of salad and an old apple core. Her beak rested on her chest, as if she were dozing. Day Moon sat down in the seat directly to her left, and waited for her to wake up.
Five minutes later, she opened her eyes, and looked around, before focusing on the foal. “For one as young as you are, you have the consideration of those twice your age. Letting one rest is a great sign of respect.” She smiled as she shifted her plate off to the side. “Now that I have regained my strength, I shall get to why I summoned you here tonight, for I have words for your ears alone.”
“May I ask a question?” Day Moon asked.
“The plate and cups were just a light meal for me.” Her smile turned impish. “I always wanted to dine with one of the Crystal Empire’s royalty, especially after hearing what Cosy had done for my husband.” She looked into Day Moon’s eyes as she placed something down before him, which was odd, because he was sure her talons had been empty before. A rough wooden carving of a wolf stood bony white against the table’s dark surface. The wolf’s head was tilted back in a mournful howl. “Does this mean anything to you?”
“It’s a simple carving the elders in the Wolf Clan make,” he responded. “The wood….” He furrowed his brow. “The wood appears to be a natural white. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what tree you carved it from. I’m only just beginning my lessons.” He looked up to her eyes, then back down at the carving. “You’re going to talk about the gift of the white wolf, aren’t you?”
“In my sight, I saw the vision of a young unmaned white wolf in the dark. His brothers had gone off to hunt the monsters that had murdered their mother, but he had stayed behind. He met a raven blessed by the sky. This raven hunted for many nights to find and kill a shadow from times long since past. The wolf sat with the raven, and learned from him of the dark things of the world, of the shadows who creep in the dark, and of the chills that travel on the breeze, the terrors who hunted the young and weak. The cub felt fear, for his father's mate had birthed a cub, one a season prior, and the shadows were looking at the cub. They sought to find the cub, to invade her, and hollow her out to a husk, so that they could hide from the light. The wolf knew the raven could kill shadows and chills, and all sorts of dark and terrifying things, so he begged the raven to teach him. The raven agreed that he would, but on the condition that the wolf must also help the raven hunt his shadow in return.”
The Gryphoness rose to her full height, her wings flared as she gazed somberly down at him. “Hear me now, Day Moon. You are the white wolf who wishes to hunt the shadows and the chills and the dark things of the world, for the raven cannot kill his shadow alone. He must provide the experience and the sight, but you must provide the fangs and the claws. Do not be deterred by what is hard or terrifying, for your sister’s fate will depend on you learning the skills ahead.”
Day Moon shivered, and then his eyes narrowed in determination. For a moment, even Melody swore the eyes of a wolf gazed back at her. “I will let nothing harm my sister.” Then he bore his fangs. “I’ll start when we get back to the den.”
“Be strong, young wolf. Be kind when you can spare it, but be ruthless when you must. The wisdom I have given you is yours now. Do with it what you must.”
“I will.” He nodded gently. “I won’t waste your time further, Your Majesty,” Day Moon said softly as he rose from his seat.
“Hunt well, Day Moon, for we shall not meet again.” Melody placed a talon on his head, before gesturing for him to leave.
Day Moon frowned. “But we would meet each other as spirits. After all, you claimed my father, so you have to visit us once in awhile.”
Melody couldn’t suppress the chuckle as she smiled indulgently. “We shall see. Even I do not know everything that is to come. Now run along, little one. Inigo is about to do something reckless.”
Day Moon’s eyes widened, before he flew out the room as fast as his wings would carry him. “Inigo,” he growled under his breath, “I thought we wouldn’t do anything without the other.”
Day Moon burst into the waiting room, then out the door without so much as a hello or goodbye. The guard who had escorted him darted after as fast as his wings would carry him, but to little avail. Pensword couldn’t help but smile at the foal’s speed. He had learned his lessons well. Another guard soon emerged from the corridor to pick up the slack. His feathers shook as he gasped out the next words. “H–Hammer Strike.” He looked like he was about to faint.
“Delightful,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved forward.
They soon arrived at the table set in the fake forest in the room. However, as Hammer Strike walked forward, it almost seemed like he had entered an actual forest. The walls were hidden in shadows, and moonlight seemed to pour from the ceiling, or where the ceiling should have been. Melody was pallid, and deeply bothered, with both her taloned hands resting on the table. Her eyes were bright, and bored into the features of Hammer Strike, giving him the option of six seats to sit down at.
Hammer Strike sat right across from Melody as he directed his attention forward.
“Your vision,” Melody shivered as she reached below the table, and lifted a large copper bowl covered in gryphic runes onto the table. A thick grayish liquid sat placidly inside. It reminded Hammer Strike of mercury, but not quite. Something seemed off about it. It was too calm. “Is one I won’t soon forget. It is hard to describe the things I saw or the words that were spoken to me. I feel it would be best to show you upon this scrying bowl. Steel yourself, and prepare. This may not be easy to take.”
“I’ve seen the time and date of my own death. If you have something worse to say….” Hammer Strike sighed.
Melody pricked a finger, and allowed a single drop of blood to contact the liquid. No sign of the drop remained as the liquid parted to swallow it, then closed around it. Its color remained the same. A cold wind blew through the room. The lamps went out, cloaking the space in darkness as the grey liquid suddenly turned to black. And then the darkness began to take shape and form. Colors and shapes made themselves known. Soon a Pony took form in the center of the vision. At first sight, Hammer Strike didn’t know who he was, but when he saw the pony’s half ear twitch idly, he realized he was looking at himself. The Pony in this vision didn’t have his blue-and-gold coat, nor did he have weapons or armor. What he did possess was a multitude of scars crisscrossing his side where the fur was thin. His right eye glowed a bright, almost blinding blue. His body was atrophied and gaunt. His mane was haggard, and strange lumps covered odd areas of his skin. He resembled something vaguely related to Frankenstein’s monster. Worse yet were the twitches. His eyes constantly scanned the area before him, his ears flicking every which way. The figure seemed to shiver where it stood.
His mouth was mumbling something almost too silent to hear as it moved swiftly. “I know you're there.” Hammer Strike realised suddenly that he could make it out. “I know you're watching me. I can feel you. They did this. They opened us up. They made us this. They killed him. THEY KILLED HIM!” the pony roared at the watching figures of Melody and Hammer Strike. Then the other Hammer Strike’s mouth pulled up into a haunting smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll get the last laugh.” He inhaled deeply, then burst into a cackle. “We know how we die, and it isn’t here. Don’t worry. They will pay.” And with that, the vision evaporated in a puff of steam.
Hammer Strike sat silent for a moment, before looking up at Melody. “Well. That was horrifying.”
“Some things are worse than death, Hammer Strike,” Melody told him.
“I know.” Hammer Strike hummed as he stared off into space. “Can’t wait to find out what happens,” he finished sarcastically.
“I do not envy you that destiny, but I will not insult you with pity.”
He gave a small smile, and a gentle nod. “I will survive. As much as I dread what is to come, I will survive.”
Grif lowered his beak as he approached Melody, taking the seat before her without being bid. “Tell me then, prophetess. How will I kill the shade?” he asked her.
“Ah, coming with an actual question. Rare are those who are willing to ask, or perhaps demand?” she said as a tired smile pulled at her beak. “Unfortunately, Avatar, the answer I give is what is needed to be said, not what is asked.”
“We both know your vision and my power come from the same source,” Grif pointed out. “With no disrespect, my question will be answered.”
She laughed as she settled back into her chair. “Very well.” She closed her eyes,and took a breath, before opening them and looking over his head. “Know that your shade is hiding, and will not be found. Know that he knows when you speak his name, and follows you with his eye from afar. He relies upon another to serve him as he seeks to regain his strength. It falls upon you and those with whom you are closest to destroy him. However, there is a fear he bears within, one that is justified for all those of his kind. The raven will always peck and push back, but it is by the wolf’s jaws and silver fangs that the shadows will ultimately be vanquished. Take the wolf under your black wings, and keep him safe. He and his sister both. Fail in this, and the wolf will tear your wings.
“Know that you must travel by the mists and the night airs. Teach what you know, all you know, to the wolf, and the two of you will end the shade who despises the sun and moon. He covets the hearts of crystal. Know that this shade will bring others to him, who will flock to his banner, and join his cause. A horde unseen since the days of Luna’s ancient hunts will gather. Towns will fall, but the one that has fallen already shall remain a safe haven. Know that those who call the moon mother, their caves, and your old fortress shall give you protection, and the light of the moon shall be a shield against his eyes. Until the day shall come that the Winds return in their former glory, they cannot help you, save in supporting your magic as they have in the past. To strain them more would be too much. Gather those you call brother, the one for whom you have shed blood in his name. He and his will repay their debt to you with their webs and their warriors.”
“One thing more,” Grif insisted. “Where is the khopesh the warrior Thoth wielded to avenge our great benefactors who vanished so long ago?”
Melody stared Grif squarely in the eyes. “Take no thought for the weapon. It is not your path to find it, but that of another. While the Winds praise your actions, our anger at the Diamond Dogs prevent us from seeing the road clearly.” She shook her head. “It will be found in the quest for another item of great worth. It is a path another must tread in your stead.”
“Thank you, my lady. I will do my best with the knowledge you have bestowed upon me.” Grif rose, and touched his beak with respect, before turning to leave.
Pensword sat across from Melody, squirming uncomfortably in his chair as his armor rubbed against the cushions. His helmet sat on the table, waiting to be reclaimed. He wasn’t sure what unnerved him more: the fact the guard had insisted he wear it, or the fact the armor fit him perfectly. It was functional, but much more gaudy than he was used to. “This is your doing, is it not, my daughter?” he asked with a deadpan expression.
“I have three visions to give to you, each with their own wisdom. Choose,” Melody told him as she dropped an emerald, a ruby, and a onyx on the table before him.
“Would you write the other two then, and send them for me to read on the trip home?” He asked, confused at the instructions.
“The wisdom I have is for you alone. It must be shared directly with you, or not at all,” she told him. “If there is even a chance that another may see it before you, I must not allow it.”
Pensword relaxed as he began to understand. He looked at the three gems, then reached out and touched the emerald. “This one.”
“And which shall follow?” she asked.
It was a moment before the light clicked, and Pensword’s mouth opened in a silent “oh” as he realized how foolish he had been. Of course she was going to give him all three. This would just determine the order he heard them. “I pick the onyx next, so the ruby shall be last.”
She nodded. “Very well. Hear this first vision, and be warned. A great tool you have been given, a muscle for which so very few have ever developed, but you have let the tool rust, and the muscle atrophy. It was only when you were too weak to stand and too rusty to act that you oiled the hinge, and worked the muscle. But still the tool is too rusted to perform the task that will be asked of it. The muscle still too weak. You must increase the oil and the strain double fold, and double fold again, if possible, for the time cometh on the horizon where you will find yourself weighed and measured, but should you lack, it be not you who may suffer, but one close to your heart.”
Pensword let out a long hiss. He had been reminded once again of his weakness, and now he had been informed that he could lose someone he loved, if he didn’t strain himself to the utmost. His lips set themselves into a thin line as he motioned for her to continue.
“The next is the reason for the warning. I saw a bear with cub, but a monster came to attack the cub. The bear had not been challenged in so long that he had not the strength to save the cub, and the cub was taken. The monster overwhelmed the cub, and put itself inside her. From that point on, the cub became a wild she-bear, and bathed in blood and fire. But I saw also that, should the bear be warned, he might sharpen his claws upon tree and stump, upon rock and log, until they shone with death's own light. And with the rage of bears long past, he would fight the monster back.” A chill wind blew through the room, ruffling both Melody’s and Pensword’s feathers as her voice echoed in the air. “Till raven and wolf on shadow feast, the bear must battle agian and agian, and hold back the beast.” With that said, she picked up the second gem, and returned it to the pocket from whence she had drawn it.
Pensword nodded his understanding. He would have to ask Shawn if he could practice more often. Considering the alternative, he didn’t see much other choice. But that would have to wait. For now, he had to focus on the third and final word, lest he lose to whatever creature threatened his family.
“This last warning is of great importance, Pensword,” Melody said gravely. “You must release your bias towards my race. For in us, you will find yet another face. Greater threats still loom ahead, and Ponies and Gryphons will need to work together, hoof and talon. This is something you must be at the head of. Grif is a Gryphon, and therefore, his word would be taken as tainted one way or the other, and we fear Hammer Strike too greatly. Peace through fear is useless. You must forgive the past, and accept the future. Only then can you move on from the present. I know what the Winds ask is not easy, but things truly worthy never are.”
“So … I’m going to be swept up into the Winds as well?” While he sounded dejected and downcast, it was more military humor than anything else. His pride could afford to take the hit, if it meant a better future. “I will do my best, but I will not be able to change overnight,” he warned.
“That's all the Winds can ask of you. Go in peace, Father. I know I have given you a lot to think about.” Melody bowed her head in respectful dismissal.
“And you stay safe, my daughter. And … perhaps you could come visit some time? To help heal the rift between myself and the Gryphons, and to enjoy some time with the family.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Moon River will miss you greatly.”
“I promise to try. But let’s not forget. I am helping to rule an empire, after all.” She laughed. “If you would tell Vital Spark not to bow, I would appreciate it. That would be tacky.”
“I will,” Pensword promised. “Just … go easy on him, okay?”
“I will.”
When Vital Spark entered the room, he found the place significantly changed from what Pensword had described. The room was now hot and arid. Strange smelling herbs gave the room a uniquely wild aroma, and painted masks lay about in the familiar style of a certain Zebra Vital knew. Melody sat on a cushion on the other end of a table that Vital realized he couldn't quite place as white with black stripes or black with white stripes.
“So, you wanted to talk?” Vital asked as he settled into the cushion opposite the Gryphoness. He rested his forehooves on the table, and did his best to control his heartrate. “I’m … not exactly certain about the protocol here, so if there’s some sort of etiquette or something I’m supposed to follow, I’d appreciate if you’d let me know,” he said in a surprisingly level voice.
“Calm down, and relax,” Melody told him. “You are my guest here, Vital Spark. I am not a soothsayer or a fortune teller. Neither a seer nor oracle am I. My vision was given for you, and so I wish to pass it along in accordance with the will of the Winds. The only ‘protocol’ I have here, as you put it, is that you treat me as you would a friend. Does the setting not make you comfortable?”
“A little hot, if you want me to be honest. Though I’m curious how you managed this. Is it some form of illusion charm, or something else?”
“You've seen Grif’s power, his interaction with the physical world, yes?” she asked calmly as she picked up a steaming cup, and took a sip of tea. “There are two parts to every god’s power, Vital Spark: the physical and the ethereal. A physical manifestation is rarer, for the power it brings is unquestionable, but one should not question the power of the intangible, my young Zebra friend.” She laughed as she produced a hand mirror, and showed him his reflection. The image of the Unicorn wavered like a mirage in the savannah, and was replaced by a strangely familiar striped face.
“So this is your way of sharing a fragment of the vision the Winds grant you?” Vital asked curiously.
“Black and white, or white and black? Which do you see? The stripes tell a tale yet to come. Strength and knowledge from the past awaits for the Unicorn with a Zebra’s heart. The warrior who heals, the shaman who destroys. Two halves of a coin. The power to give life, and the power to destroy it, will be yours. You must be prepared to accept the face you will see in the mirror when it is done.
“Take heart in knowing that you are only evil, if you stop questioning if you are evil. The elements of harmony have their place, but remember that generosity needs shrewdness. Kindness needs cruelty. Honesty must have deception. Laughter must have tears to make it seem so sweet. Only loyalty stands alone, for betrayal cannot be abided. Be moderate, be balanced, be sure enough to act, but never so sure as to stop questioning yourself. Your own sun and moon do sit before you. You have tasted the sun already, though briefly, and you bathe in the moonlight. When the time demands, a choice will be presented you, but remember, in this case, not everything can be black–” she waved her talons in front of the mirror, and his normal image returned. “–and white. Choose what is for you, not for anyone else, for your path shall have its own glory to achieve. And lastly, you will have a reason to celebrate seventy-two hours from this moment.” She smiled at him. “That is all I have.”
Vital held a hoof to his chin as he furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “Opposition in all things.” He chuckled. “It seems some things are universal. Or is that multiversal?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
“It could be omniversal,” Melody offered with her own smile.
“I’m just glad you didn’t say anything about tasting the rainbow.” Vital couldn’t help but chuckle. Then his face fell. “But in all seriousness, thank you. I don’t know what all of it means, but I’ve got some pretty solid ideas for a lot of it. I guess my only other question is, should I tell the others about my … trip, or keep it to myself?”
“Best to keep it you yourself,” Melody offered. “They worry about you enough right now.”
Vital chuckled ruefully. “Don’t I know it.”
Gilda entered the room as Vital walked past. She gave a small tilt of her beak, the only sign of acknowledgement she would give as she approached the Empress. The door shut behind, and Vital was left alone with the guard, who escorted him back to the room, where the others waited.
Gilda entered the reception room with Melody following close behind. The Empress looked at the group with a Mona Lisa smile as she settled into one of the chairs. “I have something to say to all of you. As you know, a prophecy cannot be spoken about, unless it is first given to those to whom it pertains. Such is the law of the Winds, and we abide by their will, even if they can only be here in spirit. This last prophecy I have to give pertains to the adults. So hear what I have to say, and follow my council.”
She waited a moment to make sure she had their attention, then opened her beak again. “Do not head west when the sun rises, but south, to a power a few of you know, but have not spoken, to he who stood to oppose heaven and earth, and traveled west to save those damned. Neither god nor a demon, yet he knows no end. Visit him again.”
“... Grif, is she talking about who I think she’s talking about?” Vital asked slowly.
“That's asking a lot,” Grif said, deliberately ignoring Vital this time. “Melody, if he doesn’t approve of us bringing strangers, he’ll destroy them.”
She shook her head. “To avoid the destruction of that which you hold dear, you must visit the island. Greet him as a brother. But the Winds have revealed to me that confrontation with the sage is inevitable. The one with neither wing nor horn must spar with the king, that the relationship may be forged anew, and respect be earned. Either at the island … or in Equestria.”
Grif sighed. “Fortunately, Monkeygascar is only a short hop from here.” He looked worriedly at the prophetess. “And you're certain it’ll be okay?”
“A little pain now is far better than losing the more precious later. It will be well.”
Grif looked at Hammer Strike. “Your call.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
Grif smiled at Pensword and Bellacosa. “Looks like we’re going to see an old friend. And yes, Vital, it’s likely who you think it is.”
Vital whistled. “I’m going to be on my best behavior then, aren’t I?”
Cosy giggled. “Yup.”
“Well, Vital, he kicked my butt without moving a single foot, so just think on that.” Grif chuckled as he lowered his beak to Melody one last time. “Tell the Emperor I said goodnight. I’m sure we’ll see him in the morning. There was, after all, a piece of cargo aboard the ship he wished to see before we left. I must return to my family.” He turned to Gilda. “You coming?”
Gilda nodded, and followed silently behind.
Pensword shook his head. “At least I have my family with me this time.”
“And now we have the night to sleep on our prophecies,” Vital added as he made his way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you all on the Gantrithor.” He smiled, and gave a quick bow towards Melody, before making his way out.
Hammer Strike stood from his chair with a soft sigh. “Farewell, Melody. And thank you once more.”
“Winds guide your steps, Hammer Strike.”