//------------------------------//
// II 
// Story: Panthalassa 
// by WritingSpirit 
//------------------------------//

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II


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My research of the ocean began with none other than a biblical expedition, wherein for the first few weeks, I delved into the vast catalogues of the Canterlot Royal Society’s archives in search of any dissertations and theses relating to the ocean from past scientists, researchers and arcane theologians before me, hailing from different backgrounds and species, in hopes of building a proper framework for my research and consider amid the perspectives surrounding the topic. Seeing as I could only visit the archives in my spare time, this particular process was arduous and taxing without any prospective developments to speak of, and for that reason I shall not go into full detail within this article and, thus, would only confine the summary of results of my reviewing of the archival materials to this singular chapter. I should mention, however, that this expedition of mine had yielded significant questions that remain unanswered regarding the ocean, which I would list out at the very end of this chapter.

With the help of the archivists, I quickly compiled a great amount of works that pertain to the origins of the ocean, many of which are inherently philosophical and have been written by the great thinkers of yore hailing from the earliest days of Princess Celestia’s reign, which was, at the time, briefly shared with her sister before the eventual banishment. Despite being unfounded and, for the rare few of them, in contradiction with our current science, I have to admit they offered a rather interesting and valuable insight apropos of the great blue, with most of them theorizing on what could only be insinuated as the existence of a thalassic deity. Though I surmised that such a theory was crafted only for want of an easy, convenient explanation, I could not help but feel that there may be a certain truth behind them; we clearly have the princesses presiding over their respective celestial bodies, after all. Having a deity overseeing the ocean would certainly fit into the Equestrian concept of the universe in theory. On the contrary, there seems to be the lack of a coinciding numen for the earth we trod upon and the skies above our heads, among many other things. The Princess of Friendship suggested that decades and decades of equine activity may be responsible for shaping the geography around us, and thus concluded it should extend to their origins as well, though in spite of my admiration of her, I don’t think the answer as to how our landscapes are formed is as simple as Equestrian supremacy.

Such an idea would’ve been deemed blasphemous, and with good reason, though if my research were of any indication, the rejection of the world being formed purely by the molding of ponykind’s hooves was anything but contemporary. A few of the ancient theologians, it seems, had similar theories, dissenting against the widely-agreed idea then that the continent and its geographies were created by an alicorn whose prowess surpasses that of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, bearing a name lost in time. In the words of one of ponykind’s early thinkers, Watercress: ‘for this world to be created by those that wandered it was a misguided concept, for we wanderers, purveyors of ease, would seek to abolish the hardships that came with it’. In addition, her assessments of the ocean, what little we know of that had survived the tests of time, are as such: ’this dense plateau, empty and cold, complies with an unfamiliar logic. I marvel no more the greatness of sun nor moon before it, for even its shadow envelops both beads all too effortlessly. To construct such a superfluous mechanism would be tantamount to madness for any pony; the inference as such would be that the ocean may not be of equine origin and is a creation of forces unknown, if not incomprehensible. Or it could be that the ocean thrives off adulation. Given this idea, it may not be further from the truth.’

The ocean, of course, does not actually thrive off of adulation; Equestria would’ve long been leagues underwater were it to be true. Apart from that quip, Watercress posed a theory that remains uncontested to this day, I’m sure with good reason: that the ocean was not a construct of ponykind. None of her contemporaries seem to find fault in her words; none of the thinkers that lived in the eras that followed hers dismissed it. Rather peculiarly, they only but expanded upon her conjecture— a rare show of begrudging unity in the customarily contentious fields of science and philosophy. Quoth the ever elusive Sandpiper, a contemporary of Watercress: ‘the concept of the ocean defies— nay, denies our natural train of thought. It can be bestial and chaotic as any monster of lore, yet bafflingly, it also very much adheres to the ideals of harmony.’ Ever the cynic, he proceeded to proclaim that the ocean ‘exists only to perplex us. To mortify those courageous enough or foolish enough to study it. It is a plague azure; for the sake of their sanity, it’s best that one diverts their gaze elsewhere.’

Of course, many of those that followed in his hoofsteps (myself included) never bothered to heed his warning, for how could we? How dare we, as scientists, cast such a momentous challenge aside? The ocean awaits a discovery, be it geographical or theological, and as such, we must stand ever ready to chart a course to seek the answer that lies within the waves. Nevertheless, as proud as my declaration stands, all my work would certainly be futile if there really was naught an answer at the end. I pray that such shall never come to pass.

Gazing past the ruminations of Equestrian thinkers, our contemporaries from across the continents shared similar ideas. Gorsedd, royal adviser to Gwalhaved, the third king of Griffonstone, described the ocean as a ‘mythical wonder of the world, reaching not only into the farthest of mountains and deepest of valleys, but also into the heart we wear between our wings. It made mockery of our skies, yet we could not help but revere it so’. Zaila-Sabra the Exalted, known natively in Zebrica as the Soothsayer Gray, had defined it when seeing it for the first time as a ‘cradle, in which this land, and all lives upon it, embark upon an aimless voyage. It nourishes us, nurtures us, and in turn, we give back to it, piece by piece. Perhaps, in the vein of our bodies returning to the sand that molded us, that our very souls would return to the waters that mirrored the currents flowing within us, waiting ever patiently in the lull of the sands of our time to return. To be breathed anew, once again, eternally.’

Her words, in particular, struck me as intriguing. The idea of the ocean as some sort of receptacle of our bodies in line for our reincarnation was fascinating, even if a bit absurd. Regardless, such a theory would imply that the ocean serves some form of existential purpose to the zebrafolk, and perhaps extends to the rest of us as well. Despite my qualms regarding this train of thought, it certainly does bear some significance, considering how most of the pre-Celestial scholars address the ocean as a being with intelligence instead of a non-sentient entity. It may troublingly be in part due to the unwritten reverence of the ocean and its mysteries, however, though I’m inclined to believe that such biases may be warranted, considering how elusive is the ocean blue.

Of course, with the technological advancement of the sciences arcane and mundane, the theory of the ocean as a living mass was quickly forgotten, if not ridiculed. As per the words of—

“Professor Moondancer? Professor, are you in?”

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I suppose I should explain the interruption.

Amid reviewing the works of my fellow researchers, I had been visited by one Vellum Bound, the ever steadfast lead assistant to the royal archivist. He was a pony I was well-acquainted with, thanks in part to my repeat visits to the Royal Archives to gather the appropriate resources for my lectures and, more recently, research materials in preparation for my current venture. It had slipped my mind that he was to arrive today to drop off some texts that I had requested to be transcribed, as the original parchments were worn with age and could not be transported out from the storage folders without it crumbling into dust. Funnily enough, he was also the one who suggested the idea of transcription in the first place and thus took it upon himself to ensure it was seen to the end, though he might’ve proposed it a bit all too eagerly for my taste. No matter, for he was always someone that I knew to be dependable, consistently so.

The announcement of his arrival, despite abrupt, was a welcome one. Not to mention the fact that I had been waiting for an opportunity to clear up my head. Thus, to have a guest at my house was refreshing. Outside of obtaining the transcripts, of course, I find his company rather… charming, for lack of a better word. Truly, if sheer awkwardness were a pony, it would bear the pale copper veneer and rusty gray mane of none other than Vellum Bound himself. Then again, for those words to come from me was hypocritical, considering the straits that I was in not too long ago. Once that hurdle was crossed, however, one would always find myself lost in the densest of conversations with him, like it or not, and many of these conversations involved literary works of yore, both creative and scientific. Being the history buff he was, it was no surprise to anyone that he wholeheartedly enjoyed his work, which really only can be said for few ponies in this day and age.

“Your required materials, Professor. Transcripts of the relevant research papers and arcane manuscripts from the time of the First Diarchy, as per your request,” he said, handing the bundled papers to me, neatly tied together with a string. “There might be a few illegible words and sections here and there. No surprise, considering how ancient some of the texts were. I tried my best to fill in some of the blanks, though I don’t think they all came out right.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem.” Not a major one, I hope. I did a quick skim of the papers, quickly recognizing some of the passages from memory, written all too gracefully in Vellum’s breathtaking chirography. “You know, you don’t always have to make everything pitch perfect for me, Vellum. I’m fine with just having the transcript itself, even if it meant using the typewriter.”

“Ah, yeah, right, but, um, w-well…” he cleared his throat. “It just feels right for me to use the quill, you know? Typewriter’s a bit too cold and straight-laced for me. All clicks and cogs and some such, heh. Don’t think it’s right to do that to the words of scholars and theoreticians before us.” he paused, lips straight as a ruler. “Plus, I was, um, hoping you’d, well, uh, appreciate my work more. Might not mean much in the end, but it’s worth… something? I guess?”

“Always trying your best, huh, Vellum?” I teased out a flustered chuckle from him. “I guess if it isn’t bothering you, it should be fine. Just checking, you sorted this out for me already, right? I requested sorting it out by the names of the authors in alphabetical order.”

“I’m the royal archivist, so yeah, pretty sure I did.”

“Lead assistant to the royal archivist.”

“Getting there, let me dream a little!” he retorted, the two of us chuckling. “But it’s pretty amazing, you know. This whole ocean thing, it’s… it’s a bit over my head, I gotta admit.” He glanced over at my worktable, cluttered with books, parchments, and stationery of every kind. “Knowing from what I’ve transcribed so far, I mean, you’re basically starting from scratch! No general consensus, no leads, nothing!”

“That’s what makes it exciting!” I yelled out my affirmation, having trotted to the kitchen to prepare us some tea. “You’d think with all the great minds that lived through the ages, we would’ve cracked this wide open by now.”

“Not necessarily,” he responded, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of ruffled papers shuffling about before culminating into a singular crack against the wooden desk. “It’s just a bit… ‘unprecedented’ isn’t the right word for it, but… I mean, we should expect that there remained mysteries surrounding the ocean, but for there to be no provisional proof of progress past a certain point of time from all the great minds of history—”

“No known proof of progress,” I reaffirmed. “There may be somepony out there who might’ve figured it out who’s made findings surrounding the ocean but did not get any exposure at all. Darjeeling, Vellum?”

“Half a cup, please.”

“Then there’s also the possibility that past archivists had been ordered to withdraw any such research from the public records,” I continued, cantering back into the living room and handing him his tea. “You know, much like how the earliest annals and anecdotes regarding Nightmare Moon were hidden away after she was banished for fear of another possible insurrection.”

“So you’re suggesting they’re confiscated?” Vellum questioned, his interest piqued. “Now, why would you think the princesses would do that? You think the ocean might actually very well be—”

“It’s just a thought for now.” The last thing I needed was to dive off the deep end. “It’s possible that there really were no breakthroughs made regarding the ocean as we know of it today. As much as I’d like to speculate, I don’t really have any evidence to back me up.”

“Probably. I mean, I’ve barely grazed the surface of how deep the archives really go yet, executive privileges and whatnot. I’m still trying to plead my case with the boss about it. Once I got the green light, if I’ve found anything that could help you out, you can be sure to hear from me on that.”

“Appreciate it, Vel, and good luck,” I said, grinning heartily from ear to ear. “Now then, time for our quick review.”

It appears I might’ve made a misstatement, unless you would call three hours considerably quick. Nevertheless, the time we’ve spent was definitely productive, pleasant even. With Vellum and his organizational skills, we’ve soon collated and compiled all the materials, sorting them by authors and grouping them with regards to their cultural origins. That was important, for there was a meteoric rise in multiculturalism between species as the Great Celestial Reign began, with many a culture’s traditional philosophies serving as different bases of thought for so many of the theoreticians and scientists at the time. After all, it would be ignorant to suggest that my colleagues presiding in Manehatten share the exact cultural background to, say, those of Saddle Arabia, who in fact have more similarities culturally in their ideas to our zebrine counterparts than they do with us. With how well-versed he was in general history, Vellum certainly realized the importance of that, perhaps more so than most.

I don’t remember much of specifically what we’ve conversed about that day, though I recalled us conversing on a great lot of topics, both scientific and historical. Vellum was always a talkative one once coaxed out of his shell— a theory that I can confidently state, mostly because that side of him was akin to mine, verily so. I would also add that without his help, the words you have read and are about to read would never have been penned.

I owe a lot to Vellum Bound, even if he himself would say otherwise.

Now then, onward.

.





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Returning to the theory of the ocean as a living mass, the rejection of it was swift. While the idea of such may seem laughable in our current day and age, one must understand that there had been no dictatorial proof of the contrary. As the reign of the Two Sisters began, however, so did some significant technological innovations, scientific discoveries and arcane breakthroughs that would pave the way for generations to come. With these newfound ideas, many soon came around to the idea that the ocean possesses no cognizance of any kind. Among the first to disavow it, unsurprisingly, was Starswirl the Bearded, infamously rubbishing the ideas of an ocean with sentience and reason in his public speeches and decrying any and all who proposed it. Many soon followed suit, albeit taken more by his bravado than the scientific literature at the time.

It is generally agreed that the first scientific invalidation of the ocean having a sentience came from then-little-known arcane theologist, Rotifer the Recluse. Long before the debate of defining the concept we now know as consciousness, he designed the basic framework to one of the supposed solutions that would be used to detect the presence of a consciousness in a mass: the illusory spell of Lifeglow. Despite not achieving the exact calculations, as per following the proper integers derived with the help of the arcane frequency diagram and the scales of neurological intention, the lack of a substantial reaction from the ocean to the usage of the spell, no matter how grand the magnitude, proved that the ocean does not possess what we recognize as a consciousness to call its own.

With that concept disproven, however, it only served to make the ocean more inexplicable than not. From this point onward, all the great minds and various schools of art, science, magic, and philosophy began to have differing opinions regarding the ocean; I’d imagine it’d take centuries to categorize them all, hook, line and sinker. Despite that, all these ponies throughout time, in pursuance of a proper conceptualization of the ocean, sought to answer the same albeit notoriously wide set of questions, though from these, I truly believed that, when taken into consideration all our endeavors in the physical and arcane sciences, there really were only three questions on the list worth answering.

What purpose does the ocean serve? There was an argument made, among the theological and philosophical community throughout the ages, that the ocean serves some sort of larger purpose existentially to the known universe and, in extension, to us. Though I am opposed to the hypothesis, as I firmly believe that not everything in this world must be tailored to our needs, there understandably remains little evidence to be certain. For now, however, I remain a skeptic.

What framework does the ocean operate under? Perhaps the most ludicrous and haphazard of the questions, the idea of understanding the ocean’s mechanics beyond its tides and currents was a concept put forth by many schools of thought in an attempt to answer the previous question. Much like how our ancient thinkers figured out the cycle of rainfall and the changing of the seasons, many figured that the ocean itself may supposedly be part of a scheme of a transcendent level unknown to us. Whatever it was, it’ll certainly be an amazing discovery, should such a framework exist. I, once again, remain a skeptic.

Is the ocean represented by any sort of entity/entities of importance? If so, was the ocean a result of its handiwork, or did the ocean exist long before the entity/entities came to be? What would be its relationship to our Royal Highnesses Princess Celestia and Princess Luna? Can the ocean be considered a separate nation-state? If so, what form of governance does it operate under? Do the nation’s boundaries extend across the entirety of the ocean, or just a portion? What are its stances regarding international affairs, if such ideas are even present to it at all? Question after question after question laid beyond it, should such an entity exist. Whatever the answer to this question, I, for one, am excited to see what it has in store.

With these three questions answered, which I was certain may be highly unlikely to happen soon, we may move one step closer toward understanding the ocean as it is. I knew, however, that I can’t complete this task alone; once I made the proposal to the Canterlot Royal Society, they’ve hastily formed a research team to assist, connecting me with some of the brightest minds that the society has to offer. Despite some understandable qualms I still have around ponies, I remained diligent, sure enough getting well-acquainted with them in time. For several months, we gathered on the weekends, sometimes leafing through past archives and research papers, other times meeting with some of my fellow researchers more well-versed in these topics, all to seek out an answer for any of the three, albeit to no avail. It wasn’t long after that I surmised to myself that for one to truly understand the ocean was to look beyond the words of scientists and scholars, and really turn to the ocean itself for the answers.

I would never realize how right I was going to be.

.





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“...and, depending on the frequency, magnitude and, in some cases, trajectory, of the projectura lucida, a materializing spell can overrule Haygens’ principle and, thus, ignore the effects of refraction as it travels across two mediums of differing densities. Of course, to do so swiftly would require the caster to be familiar and be adept in maneuvering these properties with a degree of flexibility, particularly when it comes to the spells that require utmost precision in their calibrations...”

Beyond the lectern were the eyes, firm and ferocious. They were the eyes of budding scientists, these vociferous voyeurs with their attention voracious and voluminous within the walls of the auditoriums. None wavered — none dared to, lest they miss a word, or worse, a number. In my rousing air of confidence, I, who wandered into this nest of hawks, beckoned their stares. Every strenuous strut, every gentle gesture, it all sank in, and they reciprocated resplendently with silver smiles carved in a golden silence.

If you are reading this, Your Highness, I hope you found that passage engaging.

Flowery language aside, my position as one of the many researchers in the Canterlot Royal Society required me to hold these guest lectures for students at Canterlot University, as per the principles of the Society. Similarly, once my thesis of the ocean have been completed and peer-reviewed, there will come a day where I shall pass on my findings to the rest of the scholarly world. My undertaking of the task, of course, had not gone unnoticed, as evidenced from the fact that despite this was a lecture held for aspiring learners, I couldn’t help but espy some familiar faces among the crowd.

“...and it was from those achievements that he finally received the praise and recognition that he had been denied for so long. Of course, his work then paved the way for arcane resonance and subsequently opened the gateway into enchantments: the study of casting magical imbuements into material objects— both topics which we will cover next week.”

With those final words and the rowdy shuffling of departing hooves, I was soon struck with conversation after conversation by many a society member whose names should be withheld for now. Like all other past conversations I had, they all surrounded my ongoing research, with too many a question tossed up in the air and left hanging. They had also aired some concerns regarding the lack of progress made in my ventures— a concern that I concur was unbearably frustrating, especially as I’m the mare spearheading the entire operation. I did try alleviating said concerns, though I was as certain as everypony else that this venture had been stalled for too long.

“Professor! Prof, over here!”

A giddy yet gingerly voice, glinting with a sandy husk uncharacteristic of the mare it belonged to, enticed the smile within me to rise to the occasion. Amid my conversations, I had noticed her bumbling towards me from the hindmost row, her assortment of books prancing closely behind her in a sparkling cloud of olive green. Her grin looked as if it would leap off her face any second, which, in this case, was a sight for sore eyes.

“How did I do, Silica?” I asked through my teeth.

“Super-duper, Prof! Couldn’t have done it better myself!”

“You’d sit through my lectures end to end if you could,” I retorted, earning a giggle. “Think I should at least stick with wearing my glasses though, don’t you?”

“Nah! I think you look great! Ask anyone! Really!” Silica exclaimed. “Sure, you can’t exactly see anyone in front of you, but since when does a lecturer need to do that? All you have to do is give the lecture! Piece of cake!”

“I like how you've conveniently forgotten the minutes of pauses I had to take just so I could squint out my own notes into clarity.”

“Okay, so like one or two pauses! But apart from that? Smooth sailing all around I'd say. But once you get your contacts—”

“If I get my contacts. We haven’t exactly agreed on that yet.”

“—then you can say goodbye to squinting. Forever. The power of modern optical lenses compels you, Professor Moondancer! You must heed its call!”

Her hoof had gestured across at the sky — the ceiling of the auditorium, actually — as she said that, to which I could only shake my head with a soft chuckle. Such was with the company of Silica Summerwind, undeniably the peppiest student within this university. She was the only one who sat there beaming ear to ear throughout my whole lecture; a notion I knew to be true even without my glasses. She was also one of the brightest students the university ever had, easily grasping even the most advanced concepts of every field of science imaginable. It was a surprise to many, myself included, that she was actually studying to be a biologist, of all professions. Her aptitude in all other fields, however, remains remarkable, which was why I’ve assigned her to be part of the team.

That, and also the fact that I wholeheartedly enjoyed having her around.

“So, you got anything new to share with me?”

“Nothing so far, prof,” she whistled, swiftly yet fastidiously riffling through her notebook with a whisk of her magic. “Cross-referencing between the Papyrus Tomes of Zoroaster and the works of Gavyn Glidethorn, nil. Attempted detection and extraction of subsidiary arcane residues from ocean sample via photokinesis, zilch. Atomic disassembly of sample and observation of subsequent residual arcane output, nada.”

“Surprise, surprise,” I deadpanned, then sighed. “We’re running out of ideas on the research front, aren’t we?”

“Well, I’ve still got some tests left to run. Same for the others. Plus, Mr. Bound just came to us with some works of interest he found in the archives.” She fanned out some of them with her magic. “Pretty sure we haven’t looked into Dartwing’s Fifth Edition of the Development of Equine-Zebrine Relations yet. Not sure how that ties in with anything though.”

“Mentioned in a cultural context, probably.” Vellum always was adamant about there being truth in fiction. I reckon it would be favorable for everyone involved if he confined those views away from his work ethic, however. “We’ll set those aside for now. I’m thinking we might have to approach this from another angle. Again.”

“Ooh, a plan B?”

“More like a plan G at this point.”

“Well, no matter what it is, I’m sure the ‘G’ stands for grrrreat~! Whadaya say, Prof?”

I couldn’t remember whether I chuckled or rolled my eyes at that.

Striding quickly down the university’s hallways, its unnecessarily lavish furnishings second only to that of the royal palace, we were heading back to my office to pick up some documents I had prepared for the next step of our research. As usual, the halls were teeming with chattering students, with some of them stopping momentarily to flash a greeting hoof or nod at me. Silica followed closely behind, humming a tune as she skimmed through some of the books she had brought along with her, my past chastisements of her reading while trotting apparently cast aside again in favor of her undying pursuit of knowledge. I wasn’t in the mood to raise my voice, seeing as I had some other things on my mind as well.

With the parting of the gilded oak doors came the parting of my lips, a soft sigh rushing into the air as I welcomed myself back into my home away from home. Quickly, I trotted over to my desk, ruffling through the growing stacks of paper. “They must be here somewhere…” I mumbled aloud, all while sneaking a glance at my student just as she settled into one of the leather couches.

“So, what’s up with the docs, Prof?” she asked, still skimming through her books. “Did you write a secret thesis that the rest of us know nothing about?”

“Oh, I wish,” I groaned. “No, just some permission letters I penned.”

“Permission letters? Wait wait wait wait.” Silica leaped to her hooves and began to pace around the room. “Permission letters, permission letters… ohmigosh, ohmigosh... Prof, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Yep.”

“Yes! Finally! I’ve waited for this all my life!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, all your life?”

“Soon, we shall bear witness to the majestic and all-magnificent Moondancer’s most famous trick: summoning a black hole in the middle of the campus!”

“Silica, how in the— ugh, that was an accident! How was I supposed to know that Blindsider's Runes were supposed to be arranged counterclockwise when they’re literally written from top to bottom in the text?” I screeched. “I’m not going to do that again, okay? Not ever! Got into a lot of trouble of almost ending Equestria once! Don’t wanna find myself in that position again."

“Awwww.”

“No ‘aw’s, Silica. Fun as it may be for you to see it, it’s not really as fun when you’re on the receiving end of the chancellor’s shrieking,” I grumbled at that memory as I picked out the letters from the stack. “I’m actually planning out a field trip for the purposes of our research. Seeing as it’s an extracurricular thing, I’m obliged to send a couple of these letters, the most important of which goes to all your parents.”

Silica laughed. “Feels like I’m back at Celestia’s School all over again, don't ya think?”

“I just want to cover my bases, that’s all.”

“We’re full-fledged adults, Prof! All college students are!”

“Informing them about it wouldn’t hurt now, would it?” I asked. “I just want you to leave a note to your mother in case she needs you for anything—”

“Prof." she stopped me short, her hoof resting uncomfortably on my shoulder. "It’s fine. Really.”

Her sideways glance and shaky grin garnered from me a sigh. “Silica, everyone on the team, myself included, are required by standard procedure so as to avoid any litigation troubles plaguing the Society. If not, I’ll have to remove your name from this trip and I really don’t want to do that.” I waited for an answer, only to receive nothing but silence. “Fine, is there anyone else that can vouch for you?” I opted to ask. “Anyone else you know that can sign this?”

Nothing came from her except the shuffling of her hooves, the sound seemingly growing louder and louder and louder, only to realize that it was coming from somewhere else. I stopped myself short of expecting an answer, my perturbed glance rising to the door. Silica had turned around as well, the rumbling rush of stampeding hoofsteps filling both of our ears. It wasn’t long before we both yelped out in surprise as the door suddenly burst open, as one of my colleagues rushed in with a look of absolute terror and agitation on his face.

“Professor Moondancer, you’ve got to see this!”

See it we did. Heading outside with everyone else huddling about the hallways, all eyes were driven up towards the sky. Silica and I both followed suit, a dreadful wave of awe and fascination immediately gripping me as I was met with what everyone had described seeing that fateful day: a towering spindle of turquoise light streaking into the sky. It vanished into the clouds, twisting and turning them, with the blue sky surrounding it seemingly warping in its seething presence. Trying to pinpoint its origin, all I knew then was that it came from somewhere beyond the western mountains, and that all of Equestria (and perhaps beyond) would be able to see it from wherever they stood.

A scrambled hum followed it, the frightening eruption sounding metallic yet somehow faintly organic, like a hundred choirs tearing into a metal sheet. It was almost as if the sky seized the earth by the shoulders and shook it with unfettered violence, nearly throwing every one of us off our hooves. By the time that hum ended, the light vanished, leaving only echoes of its sordid ring and its vividness to remember it by. Almost immediately afterward, chatters and cries of panic rang across the corridors, whereas I glanced down at the carpeted floor beneath my hooves, trying to make sense of everything that had happened

“Prof?” Silica’s question reached me, looking understandably distressed as well. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” I remembered answering then, my voice shivering, whether from fear or from excitement, to this day I still have no idea. “But it won’t be long before we’ll find out.”