As Luna and Twilight retired to a nearby sitting room the princess of the moon was feeling buoyant. She had made the court her own, enforced her will and protected her ponies, just like Celestia. With a grin and a giggle she sank into the plush purple fabric of her favorite seat and began to fashion a cup of tea with a flick of magic. She caught Twilight’s eye and smiled widely, encouraging the smaller pony to share her happiness.
Twilight smiled back but it held a bitter and brittle edge. She accepted a cup of tea and sipped it briefly, wrestling with her thoughts. The tea cup clinked aggressively against the saucer as she set it down and spit out what was eating her.
“Pawns,” she remarked accusingly. “We’re all just pawns to you aren’t we? A game to play.”
“What are you talking about?” Luna asked, trying to hold on to her good mood.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice, Luna?” Twilight said scornfully. “Or no, I suppose you can afford not to.”
“Notice what?” Luna asked, her happiness turning to frustration. “What is so important that it’s got you angry enough to disrupt the one thing that’s gone well since my sister disappeared?”
“I’m not angry.” Twilight shook her head, searching for the right word. “It’s just a bit of… angst, maybe? I am not used to having my face rubbed in just how powerless I really am.”
“I fear I am missing some rather important context,” Luna said with rising alarm. “What is it that I should have noticed and what has brought on your foul mood?”
Sighing, Twilight rubbed a foreleg across her eyes. “Envoys from two different and not entirely friendly countries visited today. The last official visit from a griffon was three decades ago after a few border skirmishes threatened to ignite a war. I believe, though the records are fuzzy, that the last time a dragon visited the court in an official capacity was shortly after your banishment, perhaps one hundred years before the Noble String and the court in its current form existed.”
“What are you saying?” Luna asked slowly.
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re here because she is not.”
Considering, Luna leaned back and took another sip of her black tea, relishing the strong taste with a hint of sweetness. “But how would they know that she’s gone? Her memory spell might have decreased in strength past Equestria’s borders due to sheer distance, but it should still have been powerful enough to alter the relatively weak memories the citizens of other countries would have of her.”
“That’s just it,” Twilight laughed hollowly. “They don’t know. But, as immortals, Queen Tiamat of the dragons and Warlord Aquila of the griffons do remember, and they sent envoys to probe for weakness.”
“That makes sense—“Luna began, but Twilight cut her off.
“And when they confront you what do you do? Do you cleverly divine their motives and turn them aside so subtly that they never realize they’ve been deceived? No.”
Twilight’s horn glowed briefly. The room grew dark and she was lit from behind in a cheap mockery of Luna when she had held her immortal magic. “’I am a great and terrible goddess, bow before me mortals!’ Ha!” The spell ended and light returned to the room but Twilight still wore a scowl. “Hay, I had a pony thrown from the court because he accidentally gave me a paper cut while I was speaking in your name.”
“What are you saying, Twilight?” Luna asked coolly. “That’d you rather have dealt with the dragons and Blueblood entirely on your own?”
“Yes! No. I don’t know. It’s just, ahh,” she growled, frustrated. Twilight closed her eyes and breathed in slowly bringing a hoof to her chest. Letting it flow away from her, she breathed out. Luna sipped her tea, waiting patiently in the hope that the time would give Twilight the chance to clarify her thoughts.
After a few repetitions Twilight opened her eyes and spoke again in a calmer tone. “Yesterday it took the combined abilities of an Archmage, a dragon, and the demesne of an immortal for a mortal to even annoy you. Today, despite your unfamiliarity with the mechanics of the court, you managed to bull your way through and enforce total obedience through sheer power. It brought home to me how, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what I or any other mortal thinks is best. The will of the immortals undergirds the world. It seems wrong to me that simple raw power should be so important in determining the course of the lives of everypony.”
As Twilight spoke Luna’s face grew stony and a single image was fixed in her mind. That of the hall as it had been when she had put forth the power of a goddess, when all had knelt to her, save one. A voice whispered again in her head: first among mortals, I claimed the title king by right of power.
“How dare you of all ponies complain of powerlessness?” Luna asked, her voice deceptively calm. “You who just this day spoke with the voice of a ruler and were obeyed. You who have threatened and fought an immortal and walked away. If anything, you are closer to an immortal than you are to other mortals.”
Surprised, Twilight replied, “I don’t understand. Are you praising me?”
“Not at all.” There was a noticeable chill in the room, as if air and warmth were leaking away to somewhere very dark and cold. “When all others knelt you did not. You do not know your place, Twilight Sparkle. The worst monster this world has ever seen was a mortal that sought to rule and several times over the last few days you have reminded me of him.
“I’m a monster simply because I think the ability to use a special type of magic is entirely unrelated to the skills necessary to wield political power?” Twilight asked incredulously.
Luna stood, her wings spread wide to loom over the smaller pony. “There are no types to power, Twilight. There is only power. We immortals have that innate power and it confers the right to command.
“Your vaunted power has proved nearly useless in running court,” Twilight snarled, leaning forward against Luna’s attempt at intimidation. “There’s nothing more terrifying than an ignorant pony with power and right now I’d say you fit the bill perfectly.”
“That’s what pieces like you are for. The impact of ignorance can be alleviated by somepony like you. But power is unalterable. You are a powerful piece, yes, but a piece nonetheless and a piece can never become a player. You will move as I will!” Luna finished at nearly a shout, her breathing heavy and her eyes flashing with anger.
Twilight sat back and regarded her with horror. “Princess Celestia has never, and would never speak of any mortal that way. I don’t know how she could have left us at the mercy of somepony as cruel as you.”
“Ah yes, Princess Celestia,” Luna sneered. “The one pony you deem worthy of being your superior. The one pony whose title you consent to use. Well let me tell you something about my sister.” It was Luna’s turn now to lean forward across the table and it shook from the trembling of her hooves where they rested on the wood. “The reason she left is because she values me more that every mortal life combined, even yours. She knows that, no matter how much she cares for you now, you will be dead and gone one day soon while I will be by her side for all eternity. That, Twilight, is the bond of power we have that you can never be party to.”
“No!” Twilight slammed her hooves down. Her tea cup crashed to the floor and shattered, spilling liquid across the floor while she glared at Luna, her body quivering with rage. “Princess Celestia loves us all. She wouldn’t abandon any of her subjects. She wouldn’t abandon me!”
“Well, well,” Luna spat back. “It seems we’ve found where your respect for your betters has gone. All wrapped up in your obsession with my sister.”
Opening her mouth to reply, Twilight was caught by surprise as the door opened. Both she and Luna turned to stare at the pony that would dare intrude. Sunlit Rooms wilted under their fierce gazes and very nearly backed right out of the room. A secretary of the royal court had to be made of sterner stuff, though, so she mustered her courage and entered the room.
“You asked that I notify you 15 minutes before your meeting with the treasury ministers, Archmage,” she said hesitantly. “And the records of the court for the past month have been brought to your study as you requested, Princess Luna.”
Tensions hung in the air as Twilight and Luna eyed one another. For a moment nopony spoke. Then Twilight’s compulsive need not to be tardy kicked in and she sighed and dropped her gaze. “Thank you Ms. Rooms. Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep anypony waiting.” With a deliberate lack of a farewell to Luna, Twilight turned and headed for the exit.
Before she could reach it, Sunlit’s voice brought Twilight to a halt, though she did not turn around. “For what it’s worth,” Sunlight said, looking surprised at her own daring, “I think you two complemented each other well today in court. I can hardly remember another day when it ran as smoothly, especially considering all of the unexpected visitors.” When she was met with stony silence on all sides she shrank back into herself. “It was just a thought,” she mumbled.
Though neither could see the other, both Twilight and Luna opened their mouths to speak, searching for the right words to say. In Twilight the desire for reconciliation warred with a need to make her point and the selfish wish to snap back and wound Luna as Luna’s barbs about Princess Celestia had wounded her.
For Luna, the pain of her own insecurity drove her both to beat Twilight down and to offer the balm of acceptance in the hope that it would be returned. Ultimately, neither pony spoke. Twilight strode from the room in silence, Sunlit Rooms fast on her heels. Luna was left alone with her thoughts.
***
There are certain moments in Equestrian history that have been immortalized in legend from the sheer discomfort everypony feels upon hearing about them for the first time. Included in this august list is the time a pony put on a puppet show for Princess Celestia recounting her triumphant banishment of Nightmare Moon the day after that event had taken place. Another time, the Griffon’s invited the ponies for a feast to celebrate the return of peace after one of the many conflicts between their peoples. Upon arriving, the ponies discovered that the feast was in the form of a traditional ancient Griffon meal referred to as a “Barb E Q” that consisted solely of meat. And who could forget the way they cringed upon hearing the story of a young student of magic who inadvertently shaved his mentor, Starswirl the Bearded. Upon being caught the young student had promptly stuck the remains of the beard to his own face and attempted to convince his furious mentor that it was in fact opposite day.
All present at court the following morning knew immediately that it was destined to become another such moment.
Perhaps both ponies had been unwilling to shirk their duties or perhaps both had expected the other to shirk and felt that somepony with authority had to be there. Whatever the case, both Twilight and Luna had shown up to the court. They each were too stubborn to leave and concede that small victory to the other. They had also refused to reconcile or, indeed, even acknowledge the others presence and so a certain frostiness hung over the proceedings of the court, leading more than one pony to shiver as they stepped forth to deliver their petition to the throne.
Sunlit Rooms, that brave and foolish pony, had set up a small folding chair between Luna’s throne at the top of the royal dais and Twilight’s regent’s throne, one step below. Her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to play peacemaker and fulfill the role of assistant for two ponies that were attempting to simultaneously run court without cooperating in the slightest.
Through trial and error, Twilight and Luna had come up with a system for answering the petitions. Whichever of the two spoke to the petitioner first was responsible for answering that petition and the other would spend the time staring out the windows or sighing in an aggrieved manner until the issue had been dealt with and the next petitioner approached.
Fortunately for all concerned, word quickly spread that the court was the place not to be at the moment and as swift as the rumor spread the nobility all found it fashionable to find reason to be elsewhere. As a result, only a handful of petitioners were bold or desperate enough to brave the icy atmosphere of the court and everypony breathed a sigh of relief as the court quickly wound down.
It was into this cold atmosphere that Gilda walked, intent on demanding the personal audience Twilight had promised. Before she could speak Twilight spotted an opportunity to get away and jumped on it.
“Gilda, thanks for dropping by,” she gushed, rising from her chair and walking toward the griffon. “I can’t wait to show you around Canterlot.”
“That’s not why I—“Gilda began.
“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure the court can get along fine without me. After all, I’m just seeing to it that the Griffon ambassador is treated properly.” Reaching Gilda Twilight slung a foreleg around her shoulders and started essentially dragging the griffon outside, chattering all the while. “I’m sure you’ll just love some of the restaurants. Canterlot is a global city after all and we even have meat dishes in the fashion of griffon cuisine.”
The griffon opened her mouth to protest. Before she could do so she caught sight of Princess Luna’s tight expression and caught the tension in Twilight’s speech. Like a hawk hiding from a dragon’s shadow, Gilda decided discretion was the better part of valor. She swallowed her protest and allowed Twilight to lead her from the hall, chattering inanely all the while.
Once outside Twilight let out a sigh of relief and stopped her patter. “Sorry about that. Luna and I have a few philosophical differences that turned out to be problematic.”
“Ha, you too?” Gilda chuckled. “There is a time honored tradition for when you have a fight with your immortal mentor. Come on, let’s go find some cider.”
“Gilda! It’s not even noon yet,” Twilight said, half scandalized by the suggestion.
Gilda shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’?”
“Sounds like you have a fun plan there.” Spike had been coming to meet Twilight at the end of court and had nearly bumped right into them. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Absolutely not,” Twilight said firmly. “You are much too young.”
“Uh, Twilight? Dragon remember?” He tapped his scales. “I literally eat rocks, I’m pretty sure cider wouldn’t do anything to me.”
“Then there isn’t any point in you having any, is there?” Gilda asked reasonably. “Come on Twilight, point the way to the best batch of cider in the city. I’ve heard good things about the Apple-family brand, if you can find it.”
As they walked away they could just hear Spike mutter, “Darn, I wanted to see if cider really does burn blue.
“Whoa, hold up.” Gilda turned and walked back to Spike. “You were planning on trying to set cider on fire?”
“Uh, yes?”
“And you can breathe fire?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in.” Gilda looked over at Twilight. “He’s in. Now let’s go!” She scampered down the hall, wiggling like a playful kitten. Spike whooped and ran after her.
“But he’s… you… arghh!” Twilight groaned and threw her legs up in the air. “Fine, I don’t even care anymore. Let’s go see what we can find.”
***
It had turned out that even in Canterlot, and even for the Archmage, it was hard to find places willing to serve cider before noon. Instead, Twilight and Spike found themselves playing tour guide while showing Gilda around the city.
For her part, Gilda decided to pretend that she was on a reconnaissance mission and, as such, shamelessly enjoyed the tour. In turn, she shared details of life in the Griffon Empire with the rationale that it would make them trust her more. Twilight, of course, loved learning about another culture and Spike, in true adolescent male fashion, enjoyed stories about the martial nature of griffon culture.
After a long day touring they had settled into dinner and drinks at an old favorite of Spike and Twilight. Dinner passed in a haze of pleasant conversation and the party was feeling reenergized when they emerged into the refreshingly cool night air. Twilight especially was feeling better than she had in quite a while. Struck by a sudden thought she led the group away from the lights of the city and around the back of the castle. There they embarked on a dark path leading up the face of the Canterhorn, the mountain on which Canterlot was perched.
One question had tickled her curiosity during the day and so, spurred on by the confidence that comes from conversations in the dark, she finally brought it up as they climbed.
“Hey Gilda?”
“Yeah?”
Twilight glanced over her shoulder at the griffon as she spoke. “You’re acting pretty differently. Last time we met you were kind of…” she trailed off.
“Mean?” Gilda finished, chuckling. “Yeah I guess I was, from your perspective. You wondering what was up with that?”
“Mhmm. Ah, watch your footing there you two, it’s a bit slippery,” she said, indicating a wet patch of stone. She rolled her eyes as both Gilda and Spike promptly ran across the slick rock at full speed.
Reaching the end they cried “Talons rule!” and high-fived.
The two tried to keep walking but Twilight grabbed Spike’s ear/scale. “You listen here mister. Gilda can get away with that because if she falls she has wings to catch herself. You, on the other hand do not. I will be very annoyed if I have to jump off this cliff after you, understand?”
“Yes, Twilight,” he replied in a tone familiar to anypony that has ever had to supervise a child. “You just wait ‘til my wings grow in. I’ll never have to touch the ground again,” he muttered under his breath.
Satisfied despite the muttering, Twilight let him go and the three continued their ascent. “So, last time?” Twilight prompted Gilda to continue.
“Right. Well remember how I explained that strength is the most important attribute for a griffon to possess?” Twilight and Spike nodded. It hadn’t been a surprise to learn a militaristic culture placed a high value on personal strength. “I became friends with Rainbow Dash because she was the strongest flier at the flight program. The rainboom especially convinced me that she was formidable, a worthy friend to a scion of the griffon royal family. And when I came to renew that old friendship to lay the groundwork for my eventual diplomatic mission to Equestria, what did I find?”
“You found us. I still don’t see why that was a problem.” Twilight cocked her head. “Did you think that she had replaced you, or something?”
“Not exactly.” Gilda frowned, searching for the right words. “It’s more like I thought she had fallen in with the wrong crowd. Bad influences, you know?”
Surprised, Twilight looked back, though she was barely able to make out the shape of the griffon in the darkness. “You thought we were a bad influence on Rainbow Dash? Really? Have you met Dash? I love her dearly but I’m pretty sure even Spike is a good influence on her”
“Oh thanks a lot Twilight,” Spike grumbled.
“Bad influence might be the wrong word.” Gilda’s beak clicked as she thought, a nervous habit. “She’s a strong pony and she was friends with weak ponies, to a Griffon that’s somewhere between foolish and morally wrong. At camp I knew she was friends with Fluttershy but since we didn’t like Dash for the same reasons we never really saw each other. In Ponyville I met Pinkie, who’s just bizarre, and Fluttershy, who’s probably the weakest pony there is, in quick succession. So my opinion of the strength of Dash’s friends was not very high.”
“Fluttershy faced down a dragon you known,” Twilight remarked almost casually.
Gilda scoffed. “Spike might be cool but telling him to go to bed hardly counts as facing down a dragon.”
“Ouch again,” Spike complained. “I swear, I don’t get no respect.”
“Not Spike,” said Twilight. “A fully grown dragon. Probably a hundred times her size. There she was, tiny pony about the size of its eyeball and terrified of dragons to boot. But she flew right up in its face and stared it straight in the eye. It backed down and did what she said.”
“Huh.” Unseen in the darkness Gilda’s face took on a considering look. “Well I guess that makes two of Dash’s friends that are more formidable than they appear.”
“Two?” Twilight asked.
“You of course,” Gilda laughed. “I have to say, I doubt anyone expected for you to complete your magical training with the Princess in traditional Griffon style but it was pretty darn impressive.” She paused for a moment. “Speaking of which, don’t you need to magic up a light? I’ve got nocturnal vision but I didn’t think ponies or dragons did.”
Spike laughed. “Hardly. Those cuts you feel in the rock? Those are from my talons. I couldn’t even begin to guess how many times we’ve walked this path.”
“943 times,” Twilight chirped.
“Of course she knows.” Spike face palmed. “You see what I have to put up with? She counts everything, absolutely everything. Want to know how many times she’s eaten muffins on a Monday? I bet she can tell you.”
“Spike it’s not polite to make fun of ponies for their little neuroses,” Twilight chided. “And to answer your question, it’s 103 times but only because of the Monday muffin special at Donut Joes.”
“Twilighhhhttttt,” Spike whined, dragging the name out. Then the both laughed and she reached back and ruffled his head spike affectionately.
As he broke away Twilight asked Gilda, “what did you mean I graduated in traditional griffon style?”
“You don’t know? Ah, right I guess you wouldn’t, not being a griffon and all.” She rubbed the back of her head with a wing. “When a griffon thinks she’s done with her apprenticeship she challenges her teacher to single combat. If she wins then she graduates and they can work together as equals. It’s not the only way of course, but it is considered more traditional than say, completing a quest or something like that.”
Twilight gasped. “So when I walked into court and shouted at Luna…”
Gilda chuckled. “Yep. For a griffon that was the final exam. I was pretty impressed when I heard. None of Warlord Aquila’s students, including me, have had the guts to try and graduate that way for generations.”
“It wasn’t really meant to be a graduation,” Twilight said slowly.
“Yeah I kinda noticed that back at the court. Still, it was close enough for me--” Gilda broke off, stunned as they finally crested the top of the mountain. She started to get an inkling of why Spike and Twilight might have made the climb so many times.
Before the climbers stretched a meadow of softly rustling grass. Pale moonflowers dotted the landscape and leant a sweet scent to the gentle night air. A small creek flowed around the edges of the meadow and off the side of the mountain opposite the stairs. Set to one side was a small round building with a domed roof. All in all the meadow was idyllic and peaceful.
The night sky was not.
They had climbed to nigh on the highest point in Equestria and the cliffs on the path they had taken blotted out the light pollution of Canterlot. Above, the stars were brilliant diamonds woven into a velvet darkness. No gentle twinkle from these stars. Instead they blazed with light, lending a lurid glow to the new moon night. So close were the stars that it was possible to see the arch of the firmament, to see the great dome that encompassed all lands.
“Someday,” Twilight whispered, in a tone that was half prayer half fervent declaration. “Someday I will find out what’s past the stars. Someday I will traverse the firmament, bypass the great dome of heaven and learn the last secrets of the world.”
Spike put a claw on her shoulder. “We will.” She leaned into his comforting touch but did not speak.
“Surely,” Gilda said hesitantly, almost embarrassed to intrude. “Surely the Princess has told you of what, if anything, is out there.”
Twilight shook her head her head like a dog shaking off water. “Sorry, that came out of nowhere to you, I suppose. This meadow always does that to me. I come here for stargazing and astronomy in part.” She nodded over at the small observatory. “But also to remind myself that there are things I will have to discover for myself, that not all mysteries have been answered, even by the immortals.”
Twilight reached a foreleg up, as if trying to grasp the brightest stars and bring them close. “You see, I asked her once. I wanted to know if I sought in vain for unknown knowledge. She told me that magic, all forms of magic, are tied to the outside of the world, in part through the lights placed on the great dome. If she were to attempt to move past those lights she might be left bereft of magic itself, and so unable to survive whatever is out there. At least that was what she thought. She said she’d never dared try it herself.”
“And you think that you could survive where she wasn’t even willing to try?” Gilda asked, still staring at the view above.
“Though my soul may set in darkness it will rise in perfect light/ I have loved the stars too fiercely to be fearful of the night,” Twilight recited, smiling fondly. “Do you know what I think when I look up at the stars?”
Gilda shook her head but Twilight had not even looked over for a response. She continued to speak as if in a trance.
“I think how large we all are. How large everypony is in comparison with the world.” She stretched her hooves wide encompassing all the world. “The sheet of rock and water upon which the countries sit, the flames below, the sky above, and the firmament capping it all off. Containing and constraining all that is. It feels so claustrophobic, as if I might hit the edges of the world if I stretch too widely.”
She reached farther still, pushing off walls on either side that only she could see. Without support she tumbled over her head and came to rest on her back with a sigh, face up to the sky. Spike and Gilda joined her, lying on their backs in the soft grass and gazing up at the stars.
“I like to imagine that the stars are more than just points of light magically attached to a the firmament,” Twilight confided. “Maybe they’re holes that the princesses rearrange. Holes that let in the light of a brilliantly shining universe we can’t even imagine.” Gilda frowned at the plural of princesses but Twilight didn’t even notice the slip.
“Growing up with you, Twilight, I know this is unscientific,” Spike began, “but I always liked to imagine that the stars were dragons. You told me that dragons just keep growing and aging unless they’re killed, but that for some reason they disappear once they reach a certain age. I thought that they might climb upwards and breathe their fire down to light the world at night.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Twilight said, trying and ultimately failing to hold herself back. “But that wouldn’t explain how Luna moves them—“
“I know,” he said hurriedly. “It’s nice to have a story to tell myself though.”
“A story huh,” Twilight mused. She twisted around so she could see Gilda’s face. “Do griffons have stories about the stars?”
“Not really,” Gilda said offhandedly. “Our necks don’t bend upwards so to see the stars we have to lie on our wings, which both exposes our vulnerable points and leaves us unable to fly. Unsurprisingly, most griffons don’t like to do that so we really don’t see the stars that often.”
Gilda’s tone grew softer and more thoughtful. “Though once, when I was just a cub, Warlord Aquila took me flying at night. To practice navigating in the dark, he said. And at the end of the lesson we lay on a cloud and looked up at the sky. He told me that when the great warrior griffons of the past died, their souls went to the night princess and she used their light to paint the sky.” A fond smile colored her words as she spoke and she reached out a claw to point directly overhead. “He pointed at the North Star and said that it had been his first friend, long ago when the world was young, and that they had gone on many adventures together.”
“You must be close.”
“Kind of. I’m his daughter after all.” The griffon sighed. “And yet not really. It’s hard to be close to an immortal. Warlord Aquila controls the wind after all. If he ceased his duty the air would grow still and stale and we would all die, ponies, griffons, dragons, even the plants and voiceless animals. How can you be close to somegriffon like that?”
“I know what you mean. There’s such a distance between us. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life trying to catch up to her,” Twilight said sadly.
“Why do you want to close the distance?” Gilda asked, sounding genuinely confused. “The immortals are due our awe, not our friendship. The wind is home to a griffon. It comforts and sustains us, empowers us when we are weak, and shelters us when we are destitute.” She chuckled again. “Dash understands that. She would make a pretty good griffon I think. Warlord Aquila is the source of our home, the soul of our people. He is our god. You don’t make friends with a god. You worship him.”
“But he’s your father, isn’t he? How can you worship your father?”
Gilda sighed. “I was raised by my mother. There were lessons with him on occasion, like that time I told you about, but he so rarely lowered his guard or offered any companionship. He was always… distant. But then you should know all about that. I recall hearing you were raised in the castle. Wasn’t living with the princess the same?”
“Not at all.” Twilight shook her head vehemently. “The princess became my surrogate parent when she took me under her wing. I first attended court peeking shyly out from under her wing. We’d have dinner together every night, just the three of us, and she’d listen to us chatter on about our day.” She sniffed and reached out and hugged Spike to her. “I – I miss her. I really really miss her.”
“Isn’t she down there in the castle right now?” Gilda asked slowly.
“It’s complicated,” Spike said when Twilight failed answer. “We’ve been forced to see the princess in a different light these past few days. Things have been hard.” Gilda nodded in empathy, if not in understanding.
Meanwhile, stirrings of guilt threaded their tendrils through the longing for Princess Celestia that consumed Twilight’s heart. There was, after all, a princess in Canterlot. One who had also lost somepony they considered a family member. And how had Twilight acted toward Luna when both of them were in the midst of their shared loss? She had lashed out, accused Luna of succumbing again to her darkest self, and thrown that most painful memory in her face.
Luna had forgiven her for that, which was itself remarkable. She had been realistic in understanding that she was in over her head and willing to accept Twilight’s help immediately afterward. Then, when the sudden appearance of the dragons had put Twilight on the back hoof, Luna had happily leapt to cover for her. She’d been so proud of herself, Twilight recalled. That smile and giggle when they’d first left court was the first unfettered expression of joy Twilight could recall from the other pony since returning from her banishment.
And Twilight had taken that away from her. Over what? A momentary fit of pique at not being important enough?
Distantly, she heard Gilda start to speak again. “I still don’t understand. The stars you love so much that you wore out a mountain path walking to see them were placed there by your princess. Even if you are close, how can you not worship her?”
Breaking away from Gilda’s gaze she looked upwards again. As always comfort flowed down from the heavenly lights. Behind the lights, though, there seemed to be a dark blue face looking down on her. A newly familiar face and one she would have worshiped, if only it stood for day instead of night.
Gilda’s question had cut through to the heart of her confusion. Her mind turned over the moments she’d spent with Luna, reconsidering the role she’d played and the actions she’d taken. Twilight sat up and let her eyes drop towards the horizon. “I-I just don’t know. Perhaps—“ she broke off, stunned by the sight before her. Spike and Gilda turned to look and they too starred openmouthed.
Far, far to the north, where there should have been only the tundra, a great beam of light rose. Bright as the sun it was, and shimmering with the colors of the rainbow. For a moment Twilight wondered if somepony else had used the Elements of Harmony. But no, the light reached a peak and flared out across Equestria, bringing the light of the noonday sun to midnight.
As the shockwave washed over the top of the Canterhorn Twilight opened herself to the magic and found it utterly unlike anything she had ever known. There was power in it, obviously, and a regular structure reminiscent of a crystal. And it yet beneath that rigidity there was an alien wildness to it, a strangeness for which Twilight could think of only one explanation.
Immortal magic shone forth in the frozen north.
Twilight’s thoughts turned immediately to Princess Celestia. Could this be her magic, somehow set loose? It was unlikely. The feel of Celestia’s magic was as familiar to Twilight as the warmth of Spike’s fire. There were similarities in the feel of the two magics, to be sure, but this new light was foreign to her. And that raised even more questions that did not have an answer on the peak of the Canterhorn.
She gathered Spike and Gilda closer for an urgent teleport and held up a hoof to forestall their questions. “I don’t know. I don’t know what that light is or what caused it. I don’t know if I worship Luna for her stars or even if I should. But right now I’m want nothing so much as to talk with her. I guess that’s a start.” Not waiting for a response, she channeled her magic and the dragon, the griffon, and the Archmage disappeared.
The meadow they had left behind still blazed with the fey light of the gods pouring out in a far off wasteland.