It was early evening. The world was beginning to take a subtle orange tint that in a few hours’ time would crescendo into a glorious sunset. Leaves of the oak trees rustled in the light breezes. The air had cooled, but the dry earth still held onto the sweltering summer heat, and a winged silhouette dropped down, down, and down until it was lost in the great expanse of primeval forest.
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Wings flared and ready, Celestia peered around boulder. Different, instincts surfaced in her, as different as this forest was from Canterlot. She was pleased that the day she forget them entirely had not yet come.
The subject of her attention was a gaping maw that opened out of the base of a limestone cliff face. It was fifty times her wingspan yet somehow the thick canopy still hid it from the air. The owner liked it that way.
Celestia sniffed the air. As always, there was hint of ash and smoke on the breeze. Carefully, she stepped out from behind the boulder, not completely furling her wings and remaining ready to bolt. She made her steps as forceful as she could on the approach and kicked a few rocks about for good measure. Once at the mouth she was careful to silhouette herself as plainly as possible. It was never good to inadvertently sneak up on a dragon.
Somewhere in the gloom a hazy, indistinct outline shifted. A draft ruffled Celestia’s feathers and small rocks and pebbles strewn across the ground tumbled into the cave. She counted to thirty. Inanna the Dragon, it seemed, had just awoken and taken a single breath.
“Celestia,” a raspy voice echoed up from the depths. Despite being felt as much as heard, it was weak and resigned. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Inanna the Dragon was old, perhaps older than any other creature of this world still drawing breath. Celestia’s eyes had seen the world of spirits diminish, the scattering of the wolves, and the beginnings of civilisation, but those eyes had been around for so much longer. Before them, forests had sprouted from plains and valleys had been carved by ice. If Inanna could be believed, she had seen the very first light, when the world itself was hot and young.
Inanna was old, but even she was not immortal.
“I’ve been searching for the final sleep,” the rumbling voice bubbled up. “I have done all the talking I wish to do in one lifetime. Let me be.”
Blinking away dancing after-images of the bright outdoors, Celestia took a few careful steps into the gloom. Her eyesight, sufficient to count the petals of a dandelion across a field on a bright day, had never been good in darkness and at night she felt all but blind. Still, she was eventually able to pick out the rough details.
If Celestia hadn’t changed, then nor had the cave. Unlike the old castle, which seemed just a little bit more ruined and forgotten every time she visited, this place was exactly as she had last seen it. The same pyramid of the same riches dominated the centre of the cavern about which the same massive mother-of-dragons lay curled. If occurred to Celestia that even Inanna’s posture hasn't changed.
“Inanna,” Celestia called, still approaching. The dragon had no title, although many had tried to give her one. Celestia doubted that Inanna even understood the concept.
A single eye opened. “Oh fine,” Inanna said, “I see you are not going to go away. Tell me, how long?”
Celestia thought back and replied. It had been a while.
Again, Inanna exhaled. “How the time flies, and yet drags so.”
Celestia’s eyes dropped to the floor. She and the dragon had never been friends, exactly, usually quite the opposite, but she couldn’t feel happy about seeing her in this state.
“How long?” she asked in turn.
“A few decades, maybe,” the dragon replied. “Not a century. You should be happy, I expect.”
Accompanied by the tinkling of little avalanches of treasure, Inanna adjusted her head. The one yellowed eye she had open was the size of Celestia with wings retracted. The rest of Inanna’s body remained so still it might as well have been part of the rock. “No? Not going to tell me that you actually are so sorry to hear that?”
Celestia’s lips had been parted in readiness to speak but she could force no words, of either sympathy or condemnation, through them. A hint of amusement flashed in Inanna’s eyes, just for a moment.
“I came here with questions,” Celestia said, trying to regain the initiative, but Inanna interrupted.
“You changed everything, you know. You and Luna both,” she sounded wistful. “Equestria, in all its various forms, was only the least of what you did. The world was once such a simple place. Some years I long for the world where you ponies were still the insignificant little creatures who spent the time between their sleeps eating grass.”
“Equestria was the dream of ponykind,” She was unable to keep a measure of pride from her voice. “It is older than I.”
Inanna seemed to have no answer. Her snout came to rest on her pile, setting off more avalanches. “Perhaps I feel like talking. The animals make for poor listeners—whatever it is you need to ask,” the dragon seemed react to something in Celestia's expression, “they'll be time for that later.”
Celestia felt like grinding her teeth together, but this was how it always was. Inanna would talk and Celestia would learn a little titbit here and there. She often wondered if behind those eyes, Inanna carefully planned which little fragments of lore she doled out as insurance that Celestia would return. It was hard to say. All she could say for sure was that it had been a very long time since Inanna had last tried to eat her and the world had changed immeasurably since then. Small mercies.
So she found a spot by the cave wall to sit and folded her wings. Perhaps there wouldn't be any harm in taking a little time to sort her thoughts out? For a time, then, she would indulge the dragon.
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Celestia listened with only half an ear. To pass the time, she levitated two dozen or so fallen branches that lay scattered about the forest floor just outside the cave and arranged them into a pile. Her horn lit briefly and the fuel ignited; the young flames dancing up to guard her against the coming darkness. The scent of the woodsmoke was steeped with memory. It was a very old, very familiar, source of comfort to her. Older, even, than the even sun and everything else that had come of it.
It was easy—much easier than was commonly supposed—for her to lose herself in the noise and constant movement of her ponies until past and future faded away against the vibrancy of the now. Here, underneath the primeval forest, where the limestone stalactites grew at their stately, measured pace, the now faded and mixed a little with the then.
Beside her, brought alive once more in the smell of the woodsmoke, Luna was taking her customary place by the fire. She had picked a spot just out of sight, but Celestia didn’t turn her head to look. On evenings such as these, they often talked in circles about visiting the places beyond the hills, but for now Luna seemed content to remain silent.
In another time, Inanna droned on.
Luna would be watching the fire a bit distrustfully. She always did. She had never liked fires; they were dangerous and attracted enemies. They had argued about it over and over again. Luna had a point. The smoke and light would signal their position to everything within miles. It was with that same sense of cautious realism that Luna had accomplished amazing things.
But that way was not Celestia’s way. Light the fire. Believe things could be better. Lift your head up from the dirt because the world was a beautiful, wonderful place, and even if you never made it past foalhood, then at least make sure you had lived that foalhood.
Her eyes had become wet. What had happened to that Celestia?
“Three males came, runts, to take my mountain from me,” Inanna continued, not seeming to care if her companion was listening. “They were actually working together.”
Celestia smiled sadly into the fire. Would she one day become like Inanna? Content to sit and talk about the same topics over and over. She felt a shred of... kinship, that was getting harder to deny. Within her existed a certain part, growing unnoticed between the nows, the was like an unpleasant lump in her throat. With every passing year she slowly, but inevitably, became less and less like the ponies she surrounded herself and more like... what? Where was she headed, in the fullness of time?
Celestia, for her part, listened with half an ear, lost in her own past. She spoke only a few times when the dragon recounted some rare moment in their respective histories where their fates had intertwined. At last, the time came when Celestia had to pause to bring forth the night.
“I think this is the right time,” Celestia remarked as she returned. Once again she was struck by how little Inanna had moved. “I came without a mechanical timepiece.” That had been a mistake, but she hadn’t been thinking straight when she’d left the palace. “My ponies do tend to worry when the cycle gets disrupted. It’s always a bother.”
“Let them worry,” Inanna replied. “We both know regular sunrises and sunsets are hardly the natural order.”
“They think they are, you know,” Celestia said. “One can hardly blame them, really. It’s been that way for so long.”
The dagon paused a moment. “Mechanical what?”
“They measure the passage of time,” Celestia explained. “So you can tell how many hours have passed. Wonderful devices.”
Inanna considered this new information as Celestia left.
“How do they know?”
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Celestia stared out past the tops of the trees into the darkening sky and the moon she had just lifted above the horizon. It was getting chilly, the summer's day was spent. She was delaying, even now. But as long as Celestia delayed she could still imagine there might be some way for everything could work out. For just a little longer, that was possible.
When she returned to the cave, Inanna seemed to sense the change in Celestia's resolve. “What is it that you wish to know, Celestia? Make it quick. My eyes have grown tired again.”
Celestia hesitated. Let it be possible for just a moment longer. “You once told me about a sixth Element of Harmony and how it could bring back Luna?”
“What of it?” Inanna said, yawning. The draft caused rustling of the branches outside the cave to rustle. “Oh, I see. Luna is returning soon then. In which case, I will give you your answer. Nothing has changed,” Inanna said, dashing Celestia’s weak hope. “Yes, there is a sixth Element of Harmony. I have seen it wielded three times long ago, but it has not been seen since. It’s virtue is companionship but requires an exceptional grasp of magic to use. The five elements you hold are fine virtues but without the sixth, without companionship, you will not reach out to Luna. And by its very nature, you will never find the sixth alone, so, no, nothing has changed.”
“But if I trust the five to others…” And here was the problem. If the ponies she trusted failed, or the Elements somehow didn’t take… what would the endless night do to Equestria? Figures flashed through her mind. Silo capacities. Consumption figures. Hunger amongst ponies who've never seen it. Her best shot at defeating the creature would have been squandered and with it any chance of a mere second banishment. Her one option left would be to take up arms against Luna and to…
And to…
“Nothing?” She felt herself filling with impotent anger. “You must know something. This isn't the time for keeping it back any longer. Name your price.”
“Price?” Inanna chuckled softly, shifting her head slightly in the direction of the mountain of gold that was even bigger than she was. “I am not lying and you know that. You cannot plan to both fight your sister and save her.”
Celestia shut her eyes, defeated. Maybe she would get another chance. Maybe in another thousand years she would find a chance that was real. “How do I find the strength to do what is right?”
“Now that's a poor question to come asking me,” came the unasked for reply.
Insufferable dragon. Why had she thought coming here would help?
“This isn't…” she forced down a sudden, angry lump, “This isn't how things were supposed to be.”
Inanna tilted her head, questioningly, stoking Celestia's indignation further. “I—surely I am owed some fairness? At long last? After all this time? What else am I meant to give up? What else am I meant to give? We were supposed to face eternity together.”
For the first time, Inanna had lifted her neck fully up from the treasure was studying her intently. Her expression was like a lock that had just snapped open.
“You did love Luna didn’t you?” The dragon leaned forward, tilting her head to one side, until one massive eye was just mere neck lengths from Celestia. “What an interesting development.”
“What did you just say?”
“There are those who say what you did proves that you didn’t,” the eye withdrew as Inanna settled back into a neutral pose. After a moment, she began to grin. “I see now that isn’t the case.”
“Then there is a way?” Celestia said, suddenly hopeful.
“Yes, yes there is,” Inanna said. “And since I never liked you, Celestia, I’m going to tell you it. And it will destroy you.”
“What do you mean by that?” Celestia demanded.
“Only that I’m going to tell you the truth. If you heed it, it will destroy you. If you do not, you lose Luna.” The dragon regarded her coolly. “And perhaps that might destroy you also.”
Celestia studied the dragon, though the lizard’s expression was nearly unreadable. “Tell me.”
Inanna smirked, teeth the size of small trees poking through the sides of her mouth. Somehow, it made Celestia shudder. “No secret magic. No unlooked for miracles. If you want your sister back, you will have to earn her back.
“Celestia of the Three River Valley Herd, why did you really come here?” asked the dragon. “I am a selfish, hateful creature. The vast riches you see before you were paid in tribute out of fear or simply stolen. Was it really so that I could tell you to be strong and do the right thing? Or that I would turn out to be hiding some new secret?”
“But…”
“Tell me, then, Celestia, the very pinnacle of virtue, how much is your sister worth to you?”
“I—what kind of a question is that?”
“The most important kind. Tell me, what is Luna worth?”
“There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t give up to have her back,” Celestia replied.
Inanna let out a sigh. “That isn’t what I asked. Would you lie? Deceive a pony? Would you needlessly risk another pony’s life? Two?” The smirk returned. “Six?”
Celestia looked down at her hooves.
“Really now, you have to think? Luna isn’t even worth a blemished conscience to you?” Inanna said. “What about the life of a student you might be a little bit fond of? Is Luna worth that?”
Celestia looked up sharply.
“Oh yes, the magpies are quite happy to bring me news from time to time. They visit more than you do. So, you have an extremely magically gifted student...”
The swirling storm of purple wind whipped around, leaving chaos in its wake. In its calm centre, Celestia placed a hoof on the filly’s shoulder. The filly turned to Celestia, in her eyes: nothing but trust.
“…how convenient.”
“Twilight came into my care though simple chance,” Celestia asserted.
“I wonder if you know of any other potential bearers?”
The secretary placed the pink, balloon covered envelope on her desk. It was addressed to “Sky” and would contain more news of the ponies of Ponyville. Her contact’s knowledge of the ponies of Ponyville was virtually encyclopaedic, if a little erratic.
Luna was dead. There was no hope. She wasn't really going to do what she had planned with her Advisors to do. There was hope. In the last hour she would discover something, anything, that would make the insane plan work. They were important lies.
“I do.” There wasn’t really any use denying it. “I’ve been keeping an eye out. I’m sure of some. One. Perhaps. Others, I don’t know.”
This time, Inanna didn’t smirk, she outright bellowed with laughter.
“What you came to me to hear, Celestia, is for me to tell you to stop being the oh-so-pure and self sacrificing princess and take the idiot’s chance on a forgotten scrap of magic and in doing so be reckless with the lives of ponies who trust you to do nothing but look out for them. That is what you came to hear. No matter what you might tell yourself, that is what you were always going to do. So tell me, is Luna worth that?”
Celestia tried to glare at the dragon, but her eyes dropped to the ground as her shoulders and wings drooped. Inanna’s smirk never faded.
“Come now,” and oddly Inanna’s voice sounded motherly, almost. “It’s not so bad. Take this from a dragon whose body has fully half turned to gemstone and from a mother who has carried the bones of all of her children back to Anu. Take the second chance you have been given, or you will die regretting it.”
Celestia stared at Inanna, focused on really looking despite the gloom. The dragon's body was still, too still, and her scales gimmered in the darkness too much. Inanna's tail, one wing, some of her belly, a leg… they were no longer made of anything living but instead, a gemstone of uncertain type. How did dragons die of old age? Had it ever happened before?
Celestia stood up shakily. She turned to leave, but as she reached the mouth of the cave she was stopped by a soft chuckling.
“Welcome,” Inanna’s voice echoed out, “to the fellowship of souls who are not perfect paragons of virtue. You will be wiser for it.”
Celestia snapped her head back angrily, but the dragon simply looked smug.
“Take heart,” Inanna added. “A sister is a far higher prize than any quantity of useless gold and gems.”
Without bothering to answer, Celestia kicked off into the air. She didn’t fly far, landing in a nearby clearing. The moon still hung high in the sky, the image of a head there as always. She usually hated looking at it, but tonight was different. She needed to think. The sensation of seeing that unlikely pane of glass still reverberated in her mind. Could it be that this was the path she was meant to follow?
Luna had returned. Celestia could feel her standing right beside her, once again just out of sight. She came to a decision. How selfish had it been for her to value her clean conscience so? If that was the price of Luna...
“I’m coming sister,” Celestia breathed, without turning her head. “I’m coming.”