//------------------------------// // Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Six: Dreams // Story: Myths and Birthrights // by Tundara //------------------------------// Myths and Birthrights By Tundara Book Two: Duty and Dreams Chapter Twenty-Six: Dreams Clicking his tongue, Hades shook his head as it seemed only Luna and Fluttershy were making headway to where Twilight and Astaroth clashed. Great gouts of aether blazed from titan and demon, crackling and cascading over the field of spires, refracting into deadly waves that prevented anypony but the most daring or skilled from even attempting to cross.   At the epicenter of the shards of night, Astaroth screamed her own madness. Her body, ripped and shredded by Twilight’s attacks, reformed into an even more demonic shape.  Astaroth’s legs split, transforming into a host of tendrils that tore open at the tips into beastial faces with monstrous mouths. The heads of lions, goats, snakes and dragons writhed in a slick mass beneath Astaroth. They shot outward, intercepting and consuming Twilight’s onslaught before latching onto Twilight’s shoulders, legs, withers, wings, and throat. Swelling in size to match Twilight, Astaroth unleashed blast after blast of her arctic cold breath. The disc quaked as Twilight was dragged to the earth, knees buckling, rime covering her face.    “Of all the demonic kings, Astaroth is the worst to fight,” Hades said between strained breaths. “It may be impossible for Twilight to win, even as a titan. Astaroth is a hulking abomination that only grows stronger the more she fights. I had her imprisoned in the fifth layer of Hell by chains of orichalcum laced with the tears of a white dove forged by Haphaestus to keep her contained. Having slipped them, I fear nothing can stop her now.”   “Are the demons that strong?” “Only a few. The self proclaimed kings and queens of the Great Sins. They were the firsts of their kind, and like the old gods come from the First Realm. As such, they are imbued with its reality shaping properties. Instrumental as they were in defeating the Quus, Zeus and I knew they could never be granted free reign with the birth of the Second Realm and its myriad worlds covered in the nascent mortals. We betrayed them before they could betray us, and I have been their warden since. For eons Astaroth has brooded and plotted, and now she is able to unleash all the anger she has accumulated.”  As Hades spoke Twilight and Astaroth clashed, a pair of cataclysmic forces colliding again and again on the former fields. It was impossible to tell who had the upper hoof at any one moment. Their powers were beyond the scope of anything seen since the very first war between gods, demons, archons, and quus.  Reality, already weakened by Hades summoning Tartarus, was torn, bled, and died. The boundaries of the Winterlands frayed and became thin, like an old sheet pulled taught, and the realms beyond began to leak through.  All the gods sensed it. Those of intangible concepts more so.  The Weave of Fate itself began to unravel, leaving a hole of impossibility.    Justice dripped and blackened, becoming a foul smelling ichor bubbling from the cracked earth. Love formed choking clouds of poisonous jealousy. Secrets cackled and echoed, inducing madness in the unfortunate few zebras that had managed to survive and not flee beyond the scope of the battle. Nightmares slithered through the shadows, and craters filled with pungent pools of death as the rivers binding worlds overflowed their banks.  Tyr, Cadence, and Shyara did their best, but the wounds Twilight and Astaroth caused were beyond them.  The land was cursed, and even the gods couldn’t undo the damage.  Unbeknownst to anypony, the day had grown long as titan, god, and demon clashed. With all its usual suddenness, day plunged into night, and the stars awoke in brilliant swaths. That night they swarmed like a flock of angry starlings, murmurations swinging wildly north, south, east, and west until they congregated overhead.        With night’s arrival, the battle tipped decisively in Twilight’s favour. Power peaking, she unleashed her most destructive magics, the menhirs serving as conduits and anchor points. Astaroth was struck again, again, and again by deep lavender beams that disintegrated swaths of flesh faster than she could regenerate.  Even Luna and Fluttershy had retreated, the pair forced back to the edge of the menhirs where they slumped and plotted their next attempt.   Sadness pressed down on Soir. She hadn’t known Sweetie very well, and the impression she’d gotten was of a miserable and angry filly, quick to anger and unwilling to even attempt to be friends with anypony but Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. That didn’t mean she deserved the fate that had befallen her.  If only they’d managed to save her.  Pressed against Soir’s chest, Authea’s crystal emitted a gentle warmth.  “Dreams…” Sang a crystalline voice in Soir’s head.  A splitting pain jolted from the tip of Soir’s horn like jagged lightning down into her brain. She bit the tip of her tongue as she fought back a scream, a metallic tang filling her mouth. Fire burned across her skin, pooling at the nape of the neck and in withers before overflowing towards her flanks. Her cutie mark began to sizzle, the golden outer cord of the dreamcatcher blazing like strands of freshly poured metal, while the inner strands frayed and unravelled until they transformed into an aurora. The trio of feathers beneath the dreamcatcher fluttered across her dark blue fur as they glowed red, orange, and pink. Far below, Twilight threw a languid buck, motes of Power pulsing in a slow, rhythmic hum around her hooves.  The pain in Soir’s head and flanks worsened.  Almost throwing up from the searing agony, she was only dimly aware that Hades was moving almost at a standstill. His wings seemed stuck, and his entire body locked in place, yet they didn’t fall. Looking closer, Soir could see the slight fluctuations in the strands of his mane as it was caught in the wind, moving so slow as to almost be imperceptible.   It wasn’t just Hades, Soir realised. Grains of sand blasted into the sky floated around Soir. The arcs of magic between the menhirs popped in slow fields. And the stars overhead, their movements so fierce and wild had become a torpid, beautiful swirl.  Pain subsiding, Soir poked the dust. It curled around her hoof, and the stones moved only as far as Soir nudged them before halting again.  “What in Celestia’s mane?” Soir blinked rapidly, looking back down at Twilight and Astaroth, both now frozen like statues.  “Dreams,” spoke the crystalline voice, “Find your sister’s dream and restore her hope. The gods bear the burdens of all the world together. Even a single mountain can not hold the disc. Act quick. Lest glimmer gowned and rosy hued Twilight Sparkle is destroyed by the machinations of the Demonstar.” “But, how can I do that?” Soir demanded, looking down at the flickering crystal pressed between her and Hades. “I can’t even use magic!” “Of course you can,” laughed the crystal. “Unmake the seal. Restore the dreams you locked away. You are the alicorn of Dreams, and what is a Dream but a Hope? But a Wish? We were meant to be a triumvirate, but were pulled apart before we could meet.” Twilight’s buck had started to connect. The demon queen’s head was thrown back as she howled in agonised rage. Where Twilight’s hooves connected, Astaroth’s foul flesh burned into a fine cloud of ash as Twilight’s magic tore her apart at a fundamental level.  Clutching tighter to Hades, Soir trembled a little in fear. Doubts bubbled in her stomach, and only grew when she looked up at the imposing figures down on the fields.  “Hades erred, and the boundary between realms has been made thin here. This has allowed the things contained below Tartarus a chance to slip free. It also gives you the ability to set things right.”         “How?” Soir demanded in a nasally whine, but the crystal didn’t respond. It’s light was gone, and it was cold to the touch.  Hades’ wings began a downstroke, and his eyes ever so slowly started to turn towards Soir, a deep rumble beginning to form in his chest.   Soir hissed as the burning on her flanks grew.  It was all too much. She couldn’t save anypony. She couldn’t stop the destruction.         And then she saw them. Framed behind the glistening swirls of the stars, hidden behind Selene’s rising, silvery orb, were a trio of rings. Rings just like the dreamcatcher on her flank. Two of them were open, but the third was covered in a web of ancient, rusting chains. Soir felt a tug in her chest, like the rings were calling to her, and when she blinked, it was as if she had crossed the vast distance to the dark side of the moon.  She knew these rings. Had always known them. They’d been there every night, whispering to her an inaudible song of suffering and loss. Through the rings came thousands upon thousands of spectral birds. The oneiros, they carried on their wings dreams that they took to the mortals falling into sleep. The chains on the middle ring rattled, and a single, tiny bird squeezed between their grasp. It gave an irritated chirp before it flitted towards the disc, descending towards a unicorn somewhere in the west. As Soir watched only a few more of the spirits managed to find their way through the chained ring.  “I did that,” Soir realised. “That is why unicorns don’t normally dream!” One of the oneiros, larger and more magnificent than the others dove towards the disc, and then halted, tilting its head side to side, before zipping up to Soir. It’s bright golden plumage and long, thin tail feathers glowed gently in the starlight, and it’s eyes like polished silver coins boring into Soir. With a trilling screech, the elder oneiros circled Soir twice before diving towards the disc.  Somehow, Soir knew this oneiros carried a dream meant for Sweetie.  The pain on her flanks had almost become unbearable.  The fire piercing her head dug deeper, and something in the back of Soir’s mind broke. A wellspring of memories surged forth like a river plunging through a crumbling dam. Memories that were hers, that she’d always known, but had been forced deep down into the furthest reaches of her subconscious.  Memories that stretched back to antiquity.  Memories that belonged to her, but from when she had been fragmented. Fragments that floated around the disc sowing misery and despair, stealing, twisting, corrupting ponies dreams as they tumbled from owner to owner, until being reforged, reborn, in the comforting legs of her mama. Until she’d awoken in Lourdes with Jardin, her past a blank, hidden from her.  All stemming from a betrayal, and a curse meant not for just unicorns, but all ponies. To deny them their dreams. A final act of spite from just before she was murdered.  Soir winced, sucking in a deep breath to fight off the pain, and when she opened her eyes, she was again back in Hades’ legs, and the rings were hidden behind Selene.  Soir knew what she had to do.  “Mr. Hades, I need to reach her.” Soir tugged at Hades’ leg and pointed.  Hades hesitated. “Impossible! There is too much stray magic even for me to pierce. And should we manage to get to Twilight, she is too far gone. Glutted in the power of her domain, she is lost to the throws of aetheric madness. She is blinded by her domain. It is all she sees, all she can see.” “No! I can reason with her! I was told to reach her! Faust told me to find Twilight!” Desperation welled in Soir’s eyes, pleading with him to help. To believe in her. “If I can just reach her, I know I can save her. We can save her and Sweetie!” “You are dreaming if you believe she can yet be redeemed,” Hades sadly sighed and indicated the wasteland Twilight and Astaroth had formed in the battle. “Alone, I could perhaps get close to Twilight. But, having to carry and protect you as well?” Hades shook his head.  “Then let me take her,” spoke Fleur as she came up beside Hades. She was battered and weary, great bruises and welts showing beneath her pristine white coat. Part of her left ear was missing, a long line of shimmering golden blood running from the dirt encrusted wound. “I can see the way to Twilight.” Hades gave Fleur a sour glance. He looked her up and down, and then returned his attention to the battle nearing its climax at the heart of the midnight menhirs.  “Very well, heir of Athena. Her eyes could perceive any deception or attack, and I trust yours to do the same.” Tsking, Hades swung Soir around so she was on his back. He would need his hooves free if they were to break through Twilight’s torrent of defenses. “But, if anything happens to Soir, then there will be no sanctuary, no realm, no world, that will keep you from my vengeance.”  Fleur nodded, and reached to take Soir. Reluctantly she climbed into Fleur’s hooves.  “Hold tight,” Fleur said softly after a moment studying the deadly field they had to cross.  Twilight threw kick after kick, magic blazing in blinding lances in between. Even Astaroth couldn’t keep up with the ferocious pace of the strikes. Twilight was like a vicious tiger, refusing Astaroth a moment’s respite. The mighty Queen of Wrath fell to her knees before Twilight. Stray strands of magic were cast from the tips of Twilight’s wings and the edges of her hooves. Their lethal force filled the menhirs, and were channeled in a spiral of destruction around the titan.  Fleur flew undaunted into the array crackling between the giant menhirs. Even the slightest touch of a single, tiny jolt of magic would be fatal.  She spun and darted, wings flicking in and out in a dazzling display of agility that defied mortal ability. A crackling band of searing aether flowed towards her from the side, and she rolled beneath it, pinions spread so that individual strands of the magic went in between. She followed this with a sudden ascent into an inverted, looping dive. Somehow, Fleur slid sideways, skimming less than an inch over the surface of a menhir humming as it absorbed aether for a discharge. On and on this went, death less than an inch away at every precious second. She was a white hawk, weaving through the entwined branches of a primordial forest, hunting her prey.  Aegis was struck on Fleur’s left, the shield’s indestructible face scoured smooth and burnt black as it was sent spinning off into the night. Pallas intercepted a blast, it’s shaft shattering as it was destroyed saving Fleur and Soir.  Through it all, Soir held onto Fleur tight as dear life. The force of the turns rushed blood to her head several times, or pushed her stomach down until it was somewhere below her tail. Soir headache only amplified. Darkness sapped her vision, and the rush of the wind and sizzling snap of burning aether became a dull roar in her ears.  Dimly, she heard Fleur scream.  Her stomach flopped again, and stones dug into Soir’s flank as she hit the hard earth.  Blinking her eyes open, Soir found herself on the blackened glass ground at the center of the menhirs. Fleur lay a short distance away, her right wing missing beyond the wrist, struggling to push herself up.  Just beyond Fleur was Twilight and Astaroth, and it was a horrific sight to behold.      Half of Astaroth was torn away leaving jagged, crumbling edges where her left arm and shoulder had been. Glowing gold chains bound the Queen of Wrath, similar to those Hades had conjured. They borrowed into bubbling flesh, preventing Astaroth from regenerating. Just barely visible, part of Sweetie’s head slumped out of the gaping wound. The demon writhed in its inexhaustible wrath, remaining arm stretching towards Twilight, fingers curled into a steely cage.  A thick lather covering her from nose to dock, Twilight took deep breaths as she stood triumphant over the Queen of Wrath. Glittering blood from a hundred wounds matted her fur, and her mane was stuck to the side of her face and neck. Clumps of feathers had been torn from her right wing, and her left eye was swollen shut from Astaroth’s repeated blows. She’d shrunk back to her former size, the power swelling through her expended in the battle to defeat Astaroth.  Above Twilight a final shard of night coalesced.  Sweetie twitched an ear.  Leaping to her hooves, Soir galloped towards Twilight.  “Stop! She is still alive! Sweetie is still alive!”  Soir reached out. She was not going to make it…  She was too far away.  Twilight was too focused on Astaroth.  The shard of night plunged towards Astaroth and Sweetie.  With a mighty kick, Fleur threw herself against the shard. The shard slammed into the ground before Astaroth. Fleur collapsed, utterly exhausted. Twilight ignored her, and began forging a new shard.  Racing around Astaroth and Fleur, Soir jumped up and grabbed Twilight around the neck in a hug.  “Stop!” She desperately pleaded. “Please. Sweetie can be saved. Please, stop this, sister. We can save her. We can restore their dreams.”  Tears ran in thick streams down Soir’s face, matting her and Twilight’s fur.  “You don’t need to hurt anypony. You don’t. I know there is a good pony in you. That you just want to keep everypony safe, but you’re just going to steal their dreams, like I did, long ago. You saved me, once. I remember that night, in the castle, when you faced Nightmare Moon. I remember it. I remember you being so brave and saving Princess Luna from me. You saved me! You, and Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash saved me without even knowing it. So, let me save you. You, and all the unicorns I cursed.”     As she hugged Twilight, the pain in Soir’s flanks went out, and the stabbing pain in her horn vanished. Her withers tickled, itched, and her wings emerged from where they’d been bound by the ancient arte of Fostering. A pulse of energy burst from Soir as the Fostering was broken. Soft aether washed over Twilight and across the wasteland where the pitch black menhirs greedily sucked in the excess magic.  The menhirs hummed loudly, their tones growing sharper until they seemed to be singing a forlorn hymn. Higher and higher the music reached, and then it came crashing down with a deep, thunderous rumble that shook the ground and sent up great plumes of dust.     Unseen, the chains binding the third gate slackened, and began to crumble. In great swaths they fell away, and a giant flock of oneiros burst forth to carry the dreams denied unicorns of so long.  Twilight went rigid, like Soir had plunged a dagger into her chest.  Dimming, the menhirs went quiet and a profound silence settled over the wastes. Slowly, the tides of aether flowing through Twilight’s eyes receded, and a normal light took their place. The midnight mirror coating her wings evaporated into gentle, wispy puffs that drifted away to join the sky. “Um, excuse me, but do I know you?” Twilight asked, timidly clearing her throat.  Sniffling, wiping away the crystalline tears of an alicorn clinging to her cheeks, Soir shook her head. “We never properly met before. I’m your older sister, Soir, or Namyra, maybe. I think I prefer Soir, though. That name has less, um, history.” “Wait, wait, wait. What? Older sister? But, I don’t… No… All the scriptures said you were destroyed.” Twilight rubbed her temples with the tips of her wings. “No! Nevermind that! We need to focus on Sweetie” She jabbed a hoof at Astaroth and Sweetie.   Astaroth strained against the dusky chains borrowing into her flesh, a thick green froth foaming at the edges of her mouth in her enraged madness.  From the wound in her shoulder, Sweetie hung limply, unseeing eyes fixed forward and a tormented expression on her face. Black veins wormed across pallid grey skin barely covered by small tufts of fur. If not for a slight twitch to one ear, Sweetie seemed a corpse.  Soir’s ears fell flat against her head as she released Twilight and slid to her haunches.      “I don’t know,” Soir admitted. “But, there was a dream being sent to her, so she is alive, just sleeping.”  “Dream?” Twilight clicked her tongue. “That doesn’t help saving her, does it?” “Whatever you are going to do,” Fleur spoke in a breathy, weary whisper from where she lay, “be quick.”  “I can rewrite reality.” Twilight’s breath came in sharp gasps as she paced.  Covered in the dirt and mire of battle, there was a strangely frenetic air about her. Her movements were sharp, precise, and absolutely focused. The similarities to the titan were there, but this was something else. Soir wondered if this was simply the normal Twilight, or if some aspects of the titan remained and would soon re-emerge.  Thrusting a hoof into the air, Twilight exclaimed, “I can rewrite reality! A star… I need a star to fall…” Soir frowned.  Twilight glanced skyward, and her smile grew. “Which star, which star… Oropolla! Yes! She wants to fall. Except, I can’t control the wishes.” Chewing on her lower lip, Twilight began to pace like a caged lioness. She muttered to herself as she tried to find a solution. Her tail lashed as none suitable came to mind. And then she went rigid and spun to Soir.  “You’re Dreams! And what is a Dream but a Wish? A fervent desire! You can guide the dreams, or in this case, wish! It’s a technicality, I know. We’re twisting words and meanings. But, if there is one thing I’m learning about being an alicorn it is that perception and belief are everything. If you believe, then this could work!” Twilight kneeled down next to Soir, madness still sparkling in her eyes, but a madness of possibilities and hope. Like Twilight saw something that other ponies couldn’t begin to perceive.   “I-I’ve never used magic before!” Soir protested.  “This isn’t regular magic, like with runic equations, aetheric flow, and spell-craft. This is more like, hmmm, how to put it, tapping into our essences. Our hearts, and dictating the way it flows. You’ve done it already just a few minutes ago.” Soir’s mouth went dry, her stomach tightening into a knot.  What Twilight asked was impossible. Guide a wish? With belief?  Soir’s wings bristled at what she was being asked to do, and she nodded.  She could do this! She had already done the impossible in reaching Twilight, in making a mad titan return to reason. Even Hades had thought it impossible, and yet, she’d done it.  She could guide a dream, too. “If you are going to do something, hurry,” Fleur said, just as one of the creaking chains holding Astaroth broke. “Do it,” Soir stood next to Twilight, and hoped she looked maybe a little heroic. Twilight’s grin widened,”Fleur, wish with me for Sweetie to be returned to us!” She raised her wings high, and then brought them down. “Go back to your foals, Oropolla!”      In the heavens, still this past few minutes, a brilliant light popped, and a star began to fall. Across the north skies she plunged, a tail of vibrant bluey-green fire trailing behind.  Holding onto Twilight, Soir scrunched up her eyes and tried to listen. What, precisely, she was trying to hear she didn’t begin to know. She trusted her instincts. The same ones that had let her see the wonderful rings that served as gates to the realm of dreams.  She had no idea if this was right or wrong, if she would succeed or fail. She simply trusted in Twilight, and in herself.  She’d saved Twilight.  She could do this. It was why Faust had sent her, afterall. She had faith.  Following Twilight’s advice, she trusted herself to the instinctual use of magic all ponies had to do with their special talents. Again she found her mind’s eye before the trio of interlocked rings.  Closing her eyes, and breaths growing shallow, she plunged through the central rung into a refreshing cool expanse of twinkling lights. They twirled about her until pooling in the space next to her neck and around her legs. An oneiros appeared, wingtips skimming across the mirror surface of the lights. Scooping one up, the spirit flew away, headed towards the mortal realms. Reaching out, Soir cupped one of the lights.   She needed the ponies to dream of Sweetie, of saving the little filly. A pang of regret at not getting to know Sweetie better swished through her belly. With no better memory to hold onto, Soir opted for the only one where Sweetie had seemed something at peace.  It was a simple image, where Sweetie sat at a window, a sad frown playing with her otherwise pretty features. Her hoof rested on her sword, playing with the carvings in the crosspiece. She didn’t notice Soir hiding in a shadow next to a suit of armour, too frightened to emerge and speak. Sweetie looked up as Scootaloo and Apple Bloom came around a corner, and a brief smile crossed her face. After talking for a short while, the trio went off, and the memory ended. Soir looped the memory, and poured it into the flickering dream-light along with the fervent desire to help the filly contained within. Its surface shimmered a deep, velvetine pink. Gently, Soir placed it back in the ocean of dreams. The dream bobbed, and then sank. Where it sank the dreams near it took on the same pink tone, taking in the same memory and passing it to the next, and it to the next, and so on until a large patch had formed around Soir.  With no idea if she was doing the right thing, if this would even work, Soir tried to grab the attention of the nearest oneiros. The spirit gave her a look, but continued on its way, grabbing a dream from a little distance off.  Soir tried again, and this time one of the golden elder oneiros’ swooped down to her.  “Mistress—” the spirit began to speak in a rich timbre voice, but she cut him off. “Gather every one of your fellows, and carry these dreams to every pony you can,” she indicated the dreams she’d filled with the memory of Sweetie. “Everypony?” The spirit tilted its head, but did not wait for Soir to elaborate.  Wheeling overhead, the spirit let out a call that echoed across the realm of dreams, and summoned a flock of oneiros. In a flourish they gathered the dreams Soir had crafted and flew towards the gateway. Ponies across Ioka, from those in bed, to those sitting on a bench watching the night sky, to ponies in Castle Canterlot cleaning the evening dishes and to the guards patrolling the corridors, to the tinkers in their workshops and the artists at their easels, from the aristocrat to the pauper, from edge to edge of the disc; everypony was met by the same dream.  Those awake had their thoughts drift to Sweetie, to the image of her at the window sill. It lasted only a few moments before most shrugged off the effect and went back to whatever they’d been occupied with doing. Some lingered, and many would later wonder who the pony they’d dreamed about. Paintings of the Pony in the Windowsill were made in the hundreds, and stories of just how she’d come to be there, and what caused her to be so sad populated bookshelves. Few would ever learn the truth, and the event would last as one of the minor mysteries of the age. Satisfied, Soir closed her eyes and willed herself back to her body.  She returned to a roar of flames and a rush of heat on her face. Blinking, she looked around for the fire, and found it to be Twilight. Engulfed in a towering plume of blue flames, she stood on splayed hooves. Twilight threw back her head as she let out a long roar with the effort to control the wish.  Before Twilight, Astaroth strained against the final two chains binding her. The rest dangled from her like the limbs of a dying willow tree. With a snap, the final chains broke and Astaroth lunged.  Soir gasped and covered her mouth.  Only a hoof length from Twilight, Astaroth collapsed, pitiful moans escaping her cracked lips. Writhing on the ground, she tossed her head wildly, madly, fist pounding the ground and legs thrashing. Her back bent to the popping of bones. Flesh started to melt and slough away. In lumps it splattered the glassy earth. A leg detached, and from the joint emerged the tip of a hoof. The remaining arm came loose, bones bursting from parchment thin skin as it rolled towards Soir.  As she melted, Astaroth began to laugh, a low, horrible rumbling sound that made Soir’s stomach churn worse than the revolting sight of the queen’s banishment.  “We will meet again, oh goddesses. I will remember your faces, and I will take everything you hold dear before the Quus awaken and all things die.” Astaroth promised, and then she was gone.  Gasping for breath, Twilight collapsed onto her haunches. She could barely hold up her wings, and her eyes sagged with large bags. But, there was a triumphant grin on her face.  In the mounds of slimy mush that was all that remained of Astaroth was Sweetie. Her ear twitched. With a groan Sweetie slowly pushed herself up.  Wiping away the goo clinging to her face, she quietly demanded, “What in Celestia’s mane is going on?”  Soir couldn’t help herself.  She laughed.  She laughed with the deepest of relief.  She’d actually done it. She’d managed to help Twilight save Sweetie. A flurry of wings erupted around Soir, the air filled with alicorns from every direction. A dozen voices demanded answers, or shot recriminations. Princess Luna reached Twilight first, and she grabbed her cousin in a deep hug that lasted only as long as it took for Princess Celestia to pry Twilight away so she could give her a very stern dressing down. Zeus was there, thumping Celestia on the shoulder as he pronounced he never doubted her judgement. Fluttershy whispered how glad she was that Twilight was better.  Others were cleaning off Sweetie, who had a look of total confusion.  Somepony pulled Fleur to her hooves and tended to her wounded wing. Another had conjured bandages and had begun the process of swathing both Fleur and Twilight in cotton from tail to nose. Iridia and Faust made their reappearance, a bandage already set around the former’s head. “What is going on?” Sweetie demanded. “The last thing I remember, I was in Southstone and—Apple Bloom! Scootaloo! They fell and—”   Fleur sushed Sweetie, explaining that both were fine, safe with Applejack and Rainbow Dash.  “Really?” Sweetie breathed a sigh of relief.  It was an occasion of joy as the tension of yet another disaster ended and was washed away. Feeling out of place among all the other alicorns, Soir stood a little apart. On the other side of the gathering, Hades gave her a nod, eyes crinkling in a smile, before he returned his attention to a very flustered Fluttershy.         Following Hades’ gaze, Iridia looked over to Soir. Her joyous expression morphed into one of shock, face paling in the moonlight.  “Namyra?” She asked, detaching herself from the clump of ponies around Twilight and Sweetie. The name, familiar and yet still foreign to Soir’s ear, drew more attention. Luna gasped, and Celestia looked as if she were seeing a ghost.  Soir’s stomach tightened as Iridia stumbled closer. “My little Namyra?” Iridia gasped, the question choking in her throat.  Her own voice faltered, and Soir raised a hoof in a weak wave. She wanted to smack her head at the feeble response. What was she supposed to say? There’d been no time to examine Namyra’s memories and figure out what they meant.  Memories of the manor house in the valley near Lourdes hovered at the periphery of her head. She dared not look at them. To close her eyes, to acknowledge Namyra… Did that make Soir a lie?  Was that what the entire journey had been about? Was this what she’d wanted when she left Lourdes? The town had been destroyed simply because she’d called it home.  Had Faust’s command to find Twilight been an easy excuse to run away?  No, she’d been running towards something. Towards her destiny.  And she’d reached it.  She’d saved Twilight. Just like she’d been told.  She could do magic now. She wasn’t some broken, failure of a pony. Right? Soir’s breaths were quick, her heart thudding against her chest. The disc began to spin, and Iridia drew nearer.  Iridia.  Namyra’s… mother. Her mother. Her real mother.  The mother who’d sat with her atop the mountain and pointed out the stars, naming them as she told  She wished Jardin could see her now. She wished she could hold her mama again and tell her how much she loved her.    Iridia was close enough to almost touch her. Soir tried to shape words. To say something. But her throat constricted, and all that came out was a little hiccup. Confused joy, and a painful longing squeezed her chest. Tears sprang to Soir’s eyes, crystalline drops clinging to her face. Iridia sank to her knees, and reached towards Soir.  Shadows leapt up around Soir like a swarm of grasping claws. Inky talons formed a cage as cold as the deepest winter night on the snowy peak of the Canterhorn. Soir yelped, and tried to grab Iridia’s hoof. The shadows slammed shut around her, confining her in a pit of absolute blackness where she couldn’t even see her outstretched hoof. Her breath froze in her lungs, such was the depths of the utter cold within the shadows.  Soir attempted to scream, but there was no sound. Her lungs burned, the shadows lacking any air for her to breath.  Pure panic gripped her. She could feel madness creeping behind darkness deeper than her eyes could pierce. She’d been in the infinite, lightless void too long. Much longer than when Mr. Hades would teleport with her. She was lost. Trapped in a timeless, endless expanse of frigid nothingness.  And then she fell onto her side. Hard stone ground into her flank and shoulder. Blinking, Soir glanced around and saw she was back in Southstone Castle’s throne room. Over her loomed Algol, disappointment burning deep in the Demonstar’s sickly eyes.  “There you are, my little dreamer,” Algol gently cradled Soir’s face with razor edged feathers. “You gave me a flash of pale yellow, running time and again into danger with that old fool. For what? To save my mistress? Such folly. But, look at you! Whole again! How… golden.” Algol smiled, and she gently withdrew her wings. Tears brimmed the Demonstar’s eyes, a matronly air cloaking her as Selene’s light washed over her through shattered windows.  “What do you want?” Soir demanded as she got to her hooves.  Algol laughed as if the answer were obvious. “To hurt Twilight! To rend her heart with claws of yellow and red. To pierce her mind and shatter it so that those she loved and is loved by must destroy her to save this pathetic disc. Alas, you ruined it all. You betrayed me.”   Lips curling with malice, Algol circled around Soir. Just hours earlier Soir would have been overcome with fear at being confronted by the vile witch. She’d just dealt with a titan and a queen of hell. She was confident she could deal with a lone wayward fallen star.   “Hurting me won’t hurt Twilight. She doesn’t even know me. Until a few minutes ago, we were total strangers.”   Algol tilted her head. “So bleak. Of course hurting you won’t hurt Twilight. You are a stranger to her. Keeping you alive was never about Twilight. What I want and why you are here are not the same. You are the final key.”  Taking Soir’s chin in her wings, Algol turned her head towards the throne. Hades throne was on its side, and in its place a rough, golden archway. A thin film stretched across the arch, shimmering like oil on water.  A gentle feather traced up her chin, and carefully picked a frozen tear from Soir’s cheek. Algol cupped the crystal tear in her wing with the greatest care and gingerly carried it to the arch.  “The final key,” Algol whispered as she pressed the tear to the mirror, and the surface took on a mirror sheen that then cleared to reveal a simple room. Bottle stuffed shelves covered in dust lined the walls, part of a desk just barely visible. Half-melted unlit candles sat atop a skull in the corner, scrolls and paperwork littering the desk’s work-surface. Birds wings and mummified bats, lizards, and toads hung in nets. Gently, almost timidly, Algol pressed a hoof to the surface of the portal. There was a little ripple as it passed into the room beyond.   “Algol!” Twilight’s voice cut across the throne room. “Stop!” Algol turned and began to back through the portal. “Hello, and good-bye,Twilight Sparkle,” Algol said, her tone flat. “Give my regards to my foolish, cowed sisters. Especially Sirius.”     “Wait!” Twilight, surrounded by all the alicorns on Ioka, raised a pleading hoof. Lips twisting with fury, Algol stopped half-way through the portal. “You don’t get to command me! You will never command me! I am Algol! I am the Dreamstar! My hopes, my aspirations, my soul is my own; not the plaything of an ignorant foal. You are not my mistress! My heart is red and deepest black when I think of you. I spit upon you! Know this, all that I have done, all I have hurt, all I have wronged was because you exist. It is spite and spite alone that has driven me since before history was recorded. Go, try to enjoy your victory, such as it is. It is bleak and pyrrhic, and will forever be a stain on you.”  With that, Algol vanished through the portal. It’s surface shimmered, and then parted.  Speechless, head hanging low, Twilight was silent.  She didn’t so much as glance at the other gods. They were all battered to some extent or other, dirt and grime covering their once pristine coats. None were left unmarked by the events of the day.  Iridia was the first to break away, rushing up to Soir. She grabbed Soir’s head in her hooves, turning her this way and that as she checked her over. When she was satisfied, Iridia swept Soir into a crushing hug.  “You’re back,” Iridia repeated, over and over. “You’re really back. My little dreamer, you’re back.”  Attempting to wriggle out of Iridia’s grip, Soir gasped, “Can’t breath!” Iridia relaxed her grip just a little. Only a little, her body trembling with the confluence of emotions raging through her. Even after she finally let go, Iridia refused to be more than a wingspan away, trailing around, or dragging Soir behind her as needed.  There remained much to be done, with only a few moments given to breath before everypony went about the tasks of undoing as much of the destruction caused in Twilight’s rampage. New barriers were forged and layered over the city and surrounding wastelands when it became evident that the wastes themselves resisted all attempts at being healed. The zebras huddled throughout the castle were ushered to safety among the gathered survivors of the armies. The soldiers sat or wandered in dazes, often beside former enemies, griffon and zebras putting aside their differences for the time being.  Gryphonia was gone. Any chance the old empire had of resurgence slain and left to rot on the mountainside. Another of its cities lost forever. What lay in store for the gryphons was years of hardship, of further decline, and eventually, being lost to history, their race fading away.  A new day dawned on a new era.  The Age of Alicorns, started so violently, promised to be an era unimaginable in wonder and myth, guided by a full pantheon of gods; the Canterians, atop the Canterhorn.