Bon-Bon regarded the tree. And it was definitely a tree, not a house, even though the information Celestia’s aides had gathered for her said it was. Windows and a door had been fitted into front recesses, presumably leading to a hollowed out inside. Bottles made from glass, clay and other materials dangled from the branches on twisted vines and pieces of string. The whole place had an organic feel, as if it had grown there along with the tree, or maybe the tree had grown around the home and absorbed the inorganic parts into itself. This was in spite of the huge ugly masks thrust into the ground in an approximation of a path. Another hung above the door, empty eyelets staring down at Bon-Bon as she knocked.
The door opened within a second, as if the creature on the other side had been only three inches away. Bon-Bon’s hoof was still raised and she nearly knocked the zebra’s nose.
Wait a second; a zebra? Celestia had not mentioned any zebra. Come to think of it, apart from a name and location, she had not given Bon-Bon much information at all.
“Are you Zecora?” she asked warily.
“I am indeed. That is my name. Now for me will you do the same?”
“I’m Bon-Bon.”
Zecora’s eyes lit up, though her mouth only smiled a little. “You are the Slayer? Really? You? How wonderful! You made it through.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“A dangerous place, this forest can be. Have you not heard of Everfree?”
“Of course. Everypony knows about the Everfree Forest.” And every zebra too, apparently. Bon-Bon was still processing that one.
She had heard of zebras but never met one before. Her knowledge of them as a race was limited too. one thing she knew for certain was that they weren’t native to Equestria, so they weren’t ruled by Celestia, which made her wonder how this one had come to be not only on speaking terms with the princess, but respected enough to be selected as the Slayer’s adviser – and all without Bon-Bon having ever heard of her. She had met a lot of potentials on her travels and the name ‘Zecora’ had not been mentioned once. Progressing from potential Watcher to actual Watcher was an accolade among them, so how had someone who wasn’t even from Equestria leapfrogged the queue?
“Come, come inside and have some tea. I’ve waited for you to visit me.” Zecora gestured Bon-Bon inside and shut the door behind her.
The interior of the tree smelled musky, like incense mixed with cooking and something else. A cauldron bubbled in the centre of the room. In a line on the work table were several small blue vials, each sealed with a tiny cork. The last one was unstoppered next to a small piled of fine blue powder. Bon-Bon recognised it instantly. It brought up memories so vivid she had to grit her teeth when she spoke.
“Banishing powder?”
“I thought that you would be here soon, since you arrived this afternoon. Celestia contacted me and so I searched the Everfree for all the things I’d need to brew a brand new batch of these for you.”
“Oh.” Bon-Bon blinked at the vials. Did all zebras talk in rhyme? “That was very … thoughtful of you.”
“What kind of Watcher would I be, if to these things I did not see? Your welfare and sustained safety are now my first priority.”
“Yeah.” A lump had appeared in Bon-Bon’s throat. This felt so wrong. She longed for the old in the face of the new, even though it was stupid and impossible, but since when had emotions ever been logical?
Even thinking those words made her throat convulse. She remembered hurling them at Windwhistler during those early arguments, before they reached their rhythm and their personalities meshed. They hadn’t gotten along all the time. Ponyfeathers, they hadn’t gotten along most of the time! Yet that was why they had worked so well together. Windwhistler gave no quarter and Bon-Bon had learned to adapt after a foalhood of being ignored to mostly do what she wanted, as long as she didn’t embarrass her parents. The guidelines and structure of her new life had been hard to get used to but she had eventually appreciated the no-nonsense pony who made sure she understood and followed them. It wasn’t just that Windwhistler had trained her in how to be the Slayer; it was that she had shown Bon-Bon how to be something more than she had thought she was. Then, just as she had experienced happiness for the first time since Nonna died, she was gone and yet another gaping wound was left where somepony she cared about was supposed to be.
Maybe it truly was time she had a new Watcher, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Getting a new one made Windwhistler seem so replaceable, as if all she had done didn’t matter anymore. Why would it, if anyone else could do the job in her stead? Bon-Bon could not betray her memory by just accepting someone new, no matter whether they were pony, zebra, or even a freaking griffin!
Zecora had crossed to the cauldron and was saying something. Bon-Bon tuned in to hear the last few words.
“… get to know you.”
“You want to get to know me?”
Zecora nodded, stirring whatever was bubbling with a long wooden spoon. She picked up an ancient looking copper teakettle, checked it was full of liquid and hooked it above the mixture to absorb the heat. It was such a domestic thing to do that it was the last straw.
Bon-Bon shook her head. “Look, I don’t know how you think this works, but let’s get one thing straight from the beginning.” The words fell from her mouth, sharp and cutting as broken glass. “This is a working relationship. We aren’t going to be friends. You’re the Watcher and I’m the Slayer. You provide the info I need to kill the demons and banish them back to their realm and I’ll follow it. That’s it.”
Zecora frowned. “That is not what I understood. How will that do any good?”
“It’s just easier that way.”
“I do not think–”
“Have you been a Watcher before?” Bon-Bon snapped.
Zecora looked startled. Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“I’ve been the Slayer for years now. Long enough that I think I know better than you do what will and won’t work in a Slayer-Watcher relationship. So when I say we’re going to keep this professional and not personal because it’s easier, I think I know what I’m talking about.”
“Miss Bon-Bon, I have to confess, you contradict your own princess. She told me to look after you, but now you say this is untrue?”
“You can look after me by making sure I know how to fight the demons. Beyond that, don’t bother.”
“You talk as if you do not care whether or not I’m even there.”
“Of course I need you there. The Chosen One needs a Watcher and you and I are it this time around. Caring doesn’t come into it. I’m the Slayer, remember? There’s no point in caring about me. Slayers have short lifespans and, like I said, I’ve been doing this a few years. Don’t bother getting attached to me. I’m not going to get attached to you.” Every word was blunt, cold and excruciating. It wasn’t in Bon-Bon’s nature to be so unpleasant but what else could she do? This had to be done. She wasn’t lying; there really was no point getting attached. Getting attached only meant pain in the future. It was better to be distant and not let her heart get involved this time.
Zecora was watching her. She tossed her mane and pulled all four hooves together with a click.
“I don’t think I will stay for tea,” she said. “Thanks anyway. Unless you have something important to tell me before I go? I need to get ready for patrolling tonight.” That unicorn neighbour of hers had dominated most of her afternoon, though it had been useful to be shown around by somepony who already knew Ponyville. “It’ll be dark soon.” She looked at the vials on the table. “I could use some banishing powder.”
Silently, Zecora slid across the room, picked up three vials and deposited them in Bon-Bon’s waiting hooves. She dropped them into a pouch on her belt and fastened the flap shut without looking up at the zebra’s enquiring face. She had to make this clear from the beginning, no matter what proportion of her insides rebelled that she was doing the wrong thing. Losing Windwhistler wasn’t Zecora’s fault. She hadn’t been responsible for what happened, just stepped into the job when Celestia asked her to. She had probably been proud to be asked. She had probably been looking forward to meeting the Slayer.
Well, more fool her. She might have decided to enter this world but Bon-Bon hadn’t. She had been Chosen and even when she had adapted to make the best of it, everything had gone wrong.
“I’ll be going now,” she declared, still not meeting Zecora’s eye. She stepped towards the door.
“I’m sorry if I did offend. I only wish to be your friend.”
Zecora’s voice stopped her in her tracks. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t need a friend. I need a Watcher.” She bolted before anything more could be said.
The trip back to the surface seemed shorter than the one below ground. When Luna had fastened the last door and they had travelled nearly as far as the Nightmare Moon Rises painting, she turned to Bon-Bon and appraised her critically.
“Do you wish for a cloak?” she asked, nodding at the sword. “I can provide one and a belt easily enough. If you desire secrecy for your work, I do not think displaying this would be a good idea.”
Bon-Bon looked at the Lunar Sword. Did it feel warm to the touch or was that just her imagination? Musings aside, the reality of getting it home now hit her. She could feel overawed and grateful and whatever else her emotions cooked up later; right now she had to face the logistics of trying to take a large pointy weapon on public transport.
“Um …”
“Will it fit in your saddlebag?”
“I … don’t know. Maybe?” While the sword had shrunk, Bon-Bon did not think it had shrunk enough for that. Nevertheless, there was nothing to lose by trying.
“If it does not, we shall find a way for you to take it home with you safely,” Luna said firmly.
She had apparently come to the same conclusion Bon-Bon had; that no was would any porter let her take a sword on the train with her. There was no way Bon-Bon was letting the Lunar Sword out of her sight until she got it back to Ponyville. Once there she could figure out a safe place to keep it while she was doing non-Slayer things. In the meantime, basic logistics threw things at her to see how fast she could duck and catch.
“I could provide private transport for you,” Luna said pensively. “I have a chariot much like my sister’s.”
Bon-Bon remembered it from when Luna had dive-bombed Ponyville town square on Nightmare Night. It was impressive but not exactly subtle. She could not return inconspicuously that way. There would be questions.
“You worry that your royal connection would be revealed,” Luna observed. She really was quite incisive in her own way. She might not know much about modern life, she could be too brash and some of her interpersonal skills could use softening, but her mind was sharp and she read Bon-Bon like a book. “What if my chariot was to take you only as far as the nearest settlement to Ponyville and allow you to make your own way from there. There are, ah, public coaches?”
Bon-Bon remembered the sign at the station where she had met Horte Cuisine. “Coltchester is the nearest town. I’m pretty sure I can get a taxi-cart from there.”
“Ah, yes, a cart.” Luna amended herself and nodded. “Does this plan suit you?”
“It would sure be better than trying to sneak this past security at a train station. Thank you, Princess.”
Luna waved a hoof. “Do not thank me. I am only grateful that you have allowed me to aid you in this way.” She winced, having forgotten the cut on her leg. Her limp had grown more pronounced on the way up from the chambers but apparently it hurt less when she stood still. “I will choose suitable guards to draw my chariot.”
Bon-Bon was less fond of that idea. She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout.
“Your Majesty!”
A rush of air and a smear of white heralded the arrival of a guard. No, not just a guard but the pegasus from earlier who had been so rude. He cannoned into Bon-Bon, knocking her to the floor. Cursing herself for not having sensed his approach, she twisted sideways as they hit and managed to take most of the impact on her shoulder. One leg suddenly nerveless, her other hoof lost its grip on the scabbard, which skittered away.
The sleeping cat in the back of her mind sprang up and hissed. Bon-Bon’s brain whited out with the wash of foreign presence as the sword called for her to retrieve it and use it on her attacker. Her natural instincts also tried to kick in underneath its power. Her shoulder still worked so she rotated it and used her numb foreleg like a club against his exposed nose. The guard yelped in pain.
“Gallant!” Luna shrieked. “Desist immediately!”
The guard looked up. “But your Majesty–”
“Immediately!” Luna’s voice deepened, taking on the echoey quality of a true Equestrian royal. The whites of her eyes shone just a little brighter beneath her scowling brows. “You will stand, help her up and explain yourself AT ONCE!” The walls vibrated at her last two words.
Reluctantly, the guard lifted his weight off Bon-Bon and held out a hoof to her. She ignored it, instead levering herself up on three legs while shaking out her fourth. Her eyes sought out the Lunar Sword. It had fetched up against the opposite wall, beneath a massive oil painting. She trotted to pick it up, keeping one eye on the seething stallion.
“Your Majesty, I was only –”
“You have made a fool of yourself!” Luna snapped. “And of me! Why did you attack my guest unprovoked? Am I to understand that nopony is to be safe around me in this castle?” There seemed more to her words than Bon-Bon understood.
The guard winced. His expressions were remarkably open, given his station. Bon-Bon was used to stone-faced ponies, interchangeable in their gleaming armour and slightly haughty faces in masks that robbed them of any individuality. This guard wore his emotions candidly despite the mask and a swelling nose courtesy of her elbow.
He seemed to realise this the same moment she did. He clicked his hooves together and stood straighter, wings locked to his sides. “Forgive me, your Grace! I saw you injured and she was holding a weapon. I made the natural conclusion!”
Luna’s spine arched haughtily but her mane and tail shrank from their angry billows. “Oh.” Somehow she was able to make even that single exclamation sound deep and regal. The whites of her eyes faded back to normal. “Well … you were mistaken. She did not attack me. The sword is nothing but a gift – a decorative thing I have neither use for nor any desire to keep. I took her to the royal treasury and allowed her to select an item as a token of friendship, as I did with Twilight Sparkle and her friends when they last visited Canterlot.” She tossed her head. “Would you have thrown yourself at them so fully if you had seen them carrying such items by my side?”
His eyes flickered, as if desperate to glare at Bon-Bon, but duty kept them locked on Luna. “No, your Highness. Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony are revered guests of both you and her Majesty, Princess Celestia. I do not know this pony.”
Luna sniffed. “She is a friend I made in Ponyville. You and all the court will find I am able to make friends outside my sister’s circle as well as within it.”
He bent one knee, falling into an elegant bow. “I apologise, your Highness.”
“It is not me who requires your apology, Gallant.” Luna looked pointedly at Bon-Bon.
The guard’s eyes slid resentfully in her direction too. “I apologise, Miss …”
“Sweetie-Drops,” said Luna.
“Bon-Bon,” said Bon-Bon at the same time.
“Miss Sweetie-Drops. I was in error when I attacked you.”
“It’s fine,” Bon-Bon said hastily. “You were just doing your job. Did you come looking for the princess or is this your patrol route or something?”
“Patrol route?” He looked confused.
Bon-Bon had used a phrase she was so used to applying to herself it had not occurred to her other ponies might phrase it differently. “Uh, do you guard this area or were you searching for her?”
“Her Highness,” he hissed, “is late for lunch. Her sister sent me to fetch her but her parlour was empty. One of the maids said she saw her go this way with an unfamiliar mare.” His eyes narrowed. “Who carries strange powders in her saddlebags and abandoned a half-eaten meal in her Highness’s room.”
“You thought I’d poisoned her?” Bon-Bon asked incredulously.
“Or given her some brew to make her more biddable so she would follow you. Then I saw you here with a blade practically to her throat and–”
“That is enough, Gallant,” Luna broke in. “While your intentions were good, your execution of them was not. Bon-Bon is a chef.” She caught Bon-Bon’s eye. Clearly she understood instantly that the vials were full of banishing powder. Since Bon-Bon had not known whether she would be in Canterlot overnight, she had brought enough to patrol the city after dark. “The powders are flavours she brought to add to food to make it taste sweeter; a trick she taught me in Ponyville.”
He looked unconvinced.
“Do you think I would invite somepony into my home – into my inner chambers – if I did not trust them?”
“Plus, if I was really an assassin, why would I lead the princess away from her chambers to kill her with a sword if I had easy access to put lethal poison in her food?” Bon-Bon added. “It doesn’t make sense.”
His hot glare could have melted ironing fillings in the mouth. “It is considered uncommonly rude to interrupt her Grace while she is speaking.”
“Gallant,” Luna said warningly.
He dropped his head. “I apologise, your Majesty.”
“Bon-Bon is my friend,” Luna lied smoothly. “You will treat her as such and afford her the respect and privacy all ponies deserve. You will not badger her, interrogate her, bully her or insult her – however subtly. I will not have it.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“You will, however, draw my chariot and take her to Coltchester.”
His head snapped up, his face aghast. There was that unguarded expressiveness again. “Your Highness?” he said, clearly appalled at the suggestion.
“You will do this thing because I ask it of you,” Luna replied. “And you will do it with good grace and all speed. Go and hitch up the smaller chariot. It only requires one pegasus to pull it and is already enchanted for gliding.”
Face morphing from aghast to outright thunderous, the guard got to his feet. “As you wish, Highness.”
“I do wish it,” said Luna. “Gallant?” she added when he had backed several steps away from her.
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“What have I said about leaving my presence?”
Wincing, he turned and walked forwards down the long corridor.
“Would he really have gone in reverse the whole way?” Bon-Bon asked.
“Until he was out of sight, yes.” Irritation warred with affection in her tone. “Gallant is rather young for a guard and inexperienced with it. His loyalty and enthusiasm are unquestionable but he is somewhat wedded to the older etiquettes my sister has long since abandoned, but which I clung to when I first returned. I think he has read many stories as a colt of heroes and chivalry. As such, my own decision to discard the old ways in favour of the new has not been welcomed by him.”
“He sounds like he’s still a colt.”
“He is old enough,” Luna replied. “He passed the exam to become a royal guard.”
“There’s an exam?” Bon-Bon didn’t know why she was so surprised. Surely Celestia didn’t just pick ponies off the street and put them in armour. Especially now Luna was back, Canterlot Castle security was important. Celestia didn’t want anything to happen to her sister while Luna was exploring this new modern world.
“Several. Enlistment is quite rigorous.” Luna sighed and shook her injured leg. “I suppose I should visit somepony with medical knowledge about this cut I received in a clumsy fall.” She met Bon-Bon’s gaze sidelong.
“Yes,” Bon-Bon agreed. “That’d be a good idea, Princess.”
Luna walked off. Bon-Bon followed for a few steps but then stopped, her eye caught by a painting on the wall. It was another August Sunlight, on the opposite side of the corridor this time. When she had passed this way before she had been so focussed on ‘The Rise of Nightmare Moon’ that she had missed anything on the other wall. Now, however, she paused to take it in.
A grey unicorn stood next to a sturdy wooden desk. The wood was old and pockmarked, though it looked like it had once been burnished and impressive. In August Sunlight’s usual style, fine details were rife throughout the picture even on the furniture: small stains from spilled liquids, tiny burn marks where something too hot had been put down, plus dozens of little half-inked words, as if somepony had been so into writing they had come to the end of the paper and not realised. A shaft of sunlight illuminated both desk and unicorn, much to the unicorn’s apparent irritation. He scowled at the scroll in front of him, both it and a hovering quill wreathed in magic. The accents on the magical energy were so meticulous that Bon-Bon didn’t want to guess how long it had taken for the artist to fully capture what it looked like. The rest of the room was a riot of light and shadows revealing what looked like the sanctuary of a packrat. The walls were covered in shelves and the shelves were crammed with things: beakers, both empty and full; so many tightly bound scrolls they were falling off; vials of strange coloured liquids; jars with neatly written labels; unlit and half-burned candles; quills in need of sharpening; books stacked high and so tightly packed together the shelves above and below them bowed under the pressure; plus many other things Bon-Bon had to squint to see.
“Bon-Bon?”
She looked to see Princess Luna returning along the corridor. Evidently she had gone some distance before realising Bon-Bon had not followed her.
“Sorry,” Bon-bon apologised. “I got distracted.”
Luna’s gaze went to the painting. “Ah, I can see why.”
“It’s so detailed,” Bon-Bon agreed. “You could look at it for hours and not see everything the artist painted.”
Luna frowned slightly. “That is not what I meant, although you are correct. I thought you had become distracted because of the subject of this portrait.” She nodded at the little gold plaque attached to the bottom of the frame.
Bon-Bon leaned forward to read it. “Starswirl at Work. This is Starswirl the Bearded?”
“Was that not what caught your attention?”
“No, I … huh. Is this what he really looked like?”
“As far as I am aware, he lived during the same period as August Sunlight, so it is likely they moved in the same circles while the artist was at court. My sister commissioned this painting after Starswirl passed.”
Bon-Bon returned her star to the unicorn’s face. Starswirl the Bearded lived up to his title. His long white beard flowed almost to the floor and wisps of frizzy white mane curled out from under his hat. While his coat did contain strands of light grey accumulated by age, most was a much darker shade that led Bon-Bon to think he had always been that colour. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realised it was him immediately. Twilight Sparkle had been very accurate with her Nightmare Night costume, right down to the pattern on his robes and bells on his hat. No wonder Princess Luna had known what he looked like, despite being banished while he lived. She had a reference right here in glorious, bigger-than-life technicolour. Twilight had researched him thoroughly before putting her outfit together.
This was the stallion who had cast the spell that created the Slayers. This was the pony who had consigned so many mares to fighting the forces of darkness alone. If the painting was true to life, he looked like an irritable old codger; his mouth a bitter line and his bushy eyebrows pulled low over eyes the bruised purple of a stormy sky. If Celestia had commissioned this after his death, in a time long before photos could be used for reference, this was done from August Sunlight’s own recollections. That meant the abiding memory of Starswirl was of a cantankerous scholar who didn’t like his sanctuary of hoarded possessions disturbed. The painted image of him looked only moments away from whirling to yell at the pony opening the curtains behind him. The pony was peach-coloured with a tightly braided brown mane and tail, just like the servant who had brought food to Luna’s chambers earlier. Bon-Bon supposed she was also a servant. The braid had pulled her mane off her face so her expression was visible. She looked frightened, as if she knew Starswirl was about to yell, but she had chosen to open the curtains anyway. She was either brave or stupid.
Bon-Bon abruptly stepped away from the painting, much as Luna had with the portrait of Nightmare Moon. She suddenly wanted to be far away from this image of the pony who had ruined her life, plus the lives of countless ponies before her. Without Starswirl, there would be no Slayers. Without Starswirl, she would never have been Chosen and would never have left Manehattan to live a life of battle and secrecy.
No, she would have stayed where she was expected to live up to her parents’ expectations, no matter what she actually thought or wanted from life. She would have never seen the rest of Equestria. She would never have met Windwhistler, or Celestia, or Zecora, or Lyra …
She shook her head. “You … mentioned something about a cloak, Princess?”
Luna nodded slowly. “Indeed. Follow me, please.”
Unlike with ‘The Rise of Nightmare Moon’, this time Bon-Bon did not look back as they walked away. Even so, she felt the eyes of the portrait trained on her until they turned the corner into a different corridor.
Celestia found Luna on the ramparts. Luna typically swung between staying indoors and covering the windows, as if this new modern world intimidated her, and finding the highest, most open places she could to look down on it. More than once in the last year, Celestia had found her standing in places even Canterlot’s small pegasus population would think twice about, face upturned to the sky and eyes closed, as of communing with the distant stars that for so long had been her only companions. Luna had talked a little about the time her spirit had spent bound to the moon but she found it difficult to put into words. The brief time Nightmare Moon had banished Celestia to the sun in the same way gave her a small taste of what her sister had been through and so Celestia was willing to give Luna the time and space she needed. Sometimes, she reasoned, words were not necessary.
And then sometimes they were.
“Luna?”
Luna turned her head, unsurprised to see her. Of course, she must have sensed Celestia’s approach. They were growing more attuned to each other’s magic with each passing cycle. It would be a long, long time before they were even close to the bond they had shared a thousand years ago but even incremental progress made Celestia’s heart soar.
“Hello, sister.”
The soaring stuttered at the formal way Luna greeted her. Yes, words were sometimes sharp things that hindered instead of helped. “You’ve been out here a while.”
“It will be nightfall soon.”
“Not for a few hours.”
Luna turned back to looking out across the countryside. The views from Canterlot were some of the best in Equestria and the castle provided an even better platform to see all the kingdom had to offer. Much of it had changed little in a thousand years. It took more than ponies finding places to live to change entire mountain ranges.
Celestia slowly came to stand next to Luna. She wasn’t hesitant the way her subjects knew the word. A ruler could not afford to show weakness even in small ways and Celestia had learned long and hard how to be a queen in all but name.
The word ‘queen’ repelled her even though she had essentially been serving the same function and more. She could control the sun and commanded more power than any other pony, including Luna. It would be so easy to forget herself if she wasn’t careful. The lives of mortals were so small and fragile, like soap bubbles that danced wild with colour and then popped all too soon. Celestia felt too solid around them; too permanent. One mistimed touch of a pony’s hoof popped a soap bubble, no matter how brilliant its colours. If she didn’t remind herself of certain important things, it would be too easy to forget. If you put yourself too far above mortals, you forgot what they were, how they were and what they needed. Like love. Like friendship. Like life.
Nightmare Moon had called herself queen and forgotten how both day and night were necessary for mortal ponies to live. After banishing her, Celestia had fallen into her own despair at the twin losses of her sister and her connection to the Elements of Harmony. Her mind and heart had felt numbed and she had fled, hiding herself away where she could nurse her grief in solitude. Time had seemed to bend around her as she grew used to the missing pieces of her life, which had erstwhile been staples of her existence. She had never imagined there would ever be a time she would not have her sister. She had felt like half of her was missing; a constantly bleeding wound that did not kill her but made her feel as if she was dying. She had never imagined there would be – could be – a time she was not connected to the heart of the land. She had lost them both in the same act. The land had felt dead to her and she had felt dead inside, so she had selfishly sequestered herself where nopony could find her and grieved as only an immortal could. Time was different for alicorns. Spending it among mortals reminded her of the ebb and flow of it; of the way it could be divided up into years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds – all the things that didn’t actually matter when you had the ability to live forever. She had eventually sensed someone else raising and lowering the sun and moon in her absence and learned to feel the push and pull of those celestial bodies again. She remained where she was, still lost in self-fulfilling grief, as her magic scarred over her wounds and unconsciously began keeping up the cycle of days and nights again. Yet it was all done involuntarily, not out of love. Not anymore. She had thought she could never love anything again. What would have been the point, when loving things only meant that they would someday disappear and cause her more pain with their loss?
It was a self-centred, self-indulgent period of her life that she liked remembering as much as Luna liked remembering Nightmare Moon. When she finally came to her senses and returned from her self-imposed exile she found the ponies she had left behind had divided themselves into three tribes, then reunited and renamed the land Equestria. Some had spread beyond the shores she and Luna had once called home, creating small pockets of life on islands off its shores and evolving whole languages and cultures while she had refused to surrender her grief and move on.
They had even learned to raise and lower the sun and moon themselves, but it had cost many unicorns their magic and, ultimately, their lives in the endeavour. The more magic a unicorn possessed, the longer they lived. Conversely, those who spent it fulfilling her duty and Luna’s had only a brief sneeze of existence before they burned up their life force on a task that was never meant to be theirs. Despite this, nopony had been upset when she reappeared. They had recognised and welcomed her, though alicorns had become only legends by then, and she had been humbled by how readily they forgave her for leaving. She had caused them more suffering than she could have known, locked away in her own private anguish. She had neglected the very creatures she had banished her sister, and which destroyed her connection to the Elements to protect. She had put herself before them and they had paid the price for it with centuries of infighting and racism that persisted for a long time even after her return.
She could never call herself their queen after that.
Luna had never asked why Celestia called herself just a princess. They both knew why. She accepted the title too. It was a reminder and a lesson to both of them and meant far more than the ponies who used it could ever know.
Except … maybe Twilight Sparkle. Even then, not yet. Soon, but not yet.
“The Slayer is gone?” Celestia asked.
Luna nodded.
“You gave her the Lunar Sword.”
Her head snapped around. “You knew?”
“I felt it the moment it came above-ground. It felt different than before.” Less dark. Less tortured. Celestia had hated even touching that thing. “Why did you give it to her?”
“It … it felt … right.” Luna struggled with what was, to her, vernacular. She had not had a thousand years to learn how not to hesitate when she was unsure of herself. “Appropriate,” she corrected. “It seemed appropriate to gift it to her.”
“You did more than just gift it to her, Luna. I felt the sword.”
Luna looked away. “It is hers now.”
“Why?” Celestia had hoped Luna would destroy the sword when her powers had fully returned. Luna was nowhere near her old strength but with a few more cycles …
“I have my reasons, sister, just as you have yours for what you do. I do not meddle in your machinations. I would thank you not to question mine.”
“Machinations?” Celestia echoed, ignoring the implication that Luna still thought she didn’t trust her. “That’s a very loaded word.”
“I … I …” Luna hesitated again. She seemed very young when she did that; almost mortal. “I apologise, sister. It is not the best I could have chosen. I am not accusing you of anything untoward, merely stating that you have your own plans that you have long set in motion for the ponies of Equestria and that you have your favourites, your champions and your chosen.”
“And you want the Slayer to be yours? Luna, this isn’t a competition.”
“I know that. I do not wish to compete with you, sister. I am simply … redressing the balance. I have told you before that I wish to atone for my past sins.”
“Those were not all your doing, Luna. Nightmare Moon –”
“Was me,” Luna said shortly. “Or a part of me, at least. Do not pretend she was some evil spirit who infected my mind. We both know that is not true. Her origin was in my heart and my own jealousy. I will never truly be at peace with her or what I did unless I make up for my actions in whatever way I can.”
“And you believe giving the Slayer that sword will do that?”
“It is a start. One of many. She fights for good and life and all the things I wish to protect now I am returned to myself. She will be my champion inasmuch as she protects your faithful student while Twilight learns what she needs to learn to attain your heart’s desire. For you see, it is not only this land I must recompense. I have done you a great many wrongs as well. Because of my selfishness, your link to the Elements of Harmony was broken and that is something that can never be recovered. You lost it through your attempt to save me from myself and endured a thousand years of guilt and heartache over the attempt as well. I have told you that I bear you no ill will for what you did, yet I know even now that you doubt my word.”
“No, I –”
“That does not matter.” Luna talked over her, as if trying to get all the words out before they clogged in her throat and choked her. She spoke in a rush and yet did not stumble, as if she had rehearsed this speech many times but never had the courage to voice it before. “I know what you intend for Twilight Sparkle. She is your heart’s joy. When she is around, you sparkle like the stars themselves. She is the daughter you could never have; even more than Cadence. I will help in whatever way I can to ensure she reaches her potential, the way you wish her to, and if that means putting my faith in the Slayer and giving her the Lunar Sword, then so be it.”
“Luna …” Celestia breathed.
Luna got to her feet and quickly turned to go back inside. “You are right. It will not be nightfall for some time yet. I will wait in my chambers. I have some fudge I wish to eat.”
Celestia was thrown by the non-sequitur. “Fudge?”
“Yes.” Luna paused. “Would you … like to join me, Celestia? It is quite good.”
Celestia looked at her younger sister. Celestia. Not sister. “I think I would like that,” she said eventually and followed her inside.
The chariot slid through the air remarkably smoothly. Bon-Bon marvelled that she wasn’t being thrown around or buffeted by the breezes knocking her hairstyle to bits. Ahead of her. Gallant and a black stallion in identical armour dragged her back to Ponyville.
“Are you okay back there, miss?” the black stallion asked over his shoulder.
“Fine, thanks.”
Gallant didn’t even look back. He was clearly still seething under his mask of professionalism.
“You’re making really good time!” she called.
“The wind’s in our favour!” the black stallion called back. “We’ll be in Coltchester in no time.”
They set down at the edge of the town barely ten minutes later. Air travel certainly was a lot faster than train or hoof. No wonder pegasi stayed airborne even when they didn’t have to.
“Thanks, guys.” Bon-Bon alighted, tugging at her saddlebags to make sure they were secure under her cloak. Luna had insisted she take it and Bon-Bon had not protested, since it was voluminous and concealed the sword-belt she had also given her. The Lunar Sword hung at her flank, an inert presence both inside and outside her mind.
There had not been any repeat of what had happened when Gallant attacked her. The sword had gone quiet and Bon-Bon was glad. She wasn’t sure what to make of its connection with her. While it was not painful, it was strange to be so connected to anything else. The sword didn’t think or use words but its power was intimidating, despite her bravado to Princess Luna. Bon-Bon could barely sense it now but there persisted a feeling like being followed or watched, yet without the unease that usually went with those. The sword was like a ball of ill-defined emotions at her side, separate from her own and yet linked. She should have felt threatened but her overriding response was awkwardness that she didn’t deserve to have its power at all. History was full of great warriors with special connections to their weapons, especially if they had made the objects themselves. Some even told stories of sentient weapons able to respond to their masters, so the idea of the Lunar Sword having a kind of consciousness was not something unheard of. Yet hearing stories and living as a character in one were different things. Bon-Bon only hoped she could get used to the connection the way those ancient warriors had and not screw up now she had this kind of power at her hoof-tips.
“Miss?”
Her head jerked up. “Uh? Yes?”
The black stallion smiled. “You looked a million miles away.”
His smile was infectious. She couldn’t help returning it sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about … what to cook for dinner when I get home.”
“Well, actually, about that. Princess Luna said you needed to get back to Ponyville before sunset and it’s an hour by taxi-cart from here, if you can even get one, so Gallant and I –”
Gallant snorted.
The black stallion rolled his eyes. “All right, I was thinking we might as well take you all the way to Ponyville.”
And be a great big hint of her royal connections in the evening sky. Bon-Bon looked up, noting the greying horizon. They may have made good time but her trip to Canterlot had still eaten up most of the day. She could stick to her original plan and find a taxi-cart merchant. Most towns had at least one, though increasing numbers of trains had threatened to wipe them out. Finding one that was willing to take her to Ponyville, however, was not guaranteed. Travelling that close to the Everfree Forest after dark was not something many ponies would risk, even if she offered to pay double the fare. Even if somepony did agree to take her, it would be a while before she actually arrived. She had been away from Ponyville after dark before, though she didn’t like it. Twilight was still in Canterlot, which should have made her feel better about the situation, however the recent change in demon behaviour left her anxious about breaking her own routines.
She bit her lower lip, undecided. Finally she blew out a sigh. “That would be wonderful.”
The black stallion beamed. “Sure thing.”
Gallant finally looked back at her, twitching his neck just enough to meet her eye. “Of course,” he gritted. “Anything for a friend of Princess Luna.”
Fleur examined herself in the mirror. She had spent hours on her mane and it still wasn’t right. Neither was her pedicure, which she had gone out of her way to have done yesterday when she wasn’t booked for one until next Tuesday. She had chipped her brand new hoof-polish while using her straighteners and, to add insult to injury, that darn kink in her mane just wouldn’t go away. To anypony else she would have looked fine but to someone used to being primped by professional manedressers and make-up artists, Fleur decided her own work was just a mass of imperfections waiting to be torn to shreds by paparazzi and vitriolic journalists.
She sighed. She loved modelling. She loved the adrenaline rush of being in front of the camera and seeing herself in glossy magazines. She loved striding down catwalks in the latest fashions. She loved being ‘a face’, even if half the time ponies didn’t remember the name that went with it. Modelling was not a career that would last forever and she intended to wring every scrap of enjoyment from it while she could.
Unfortunately that meant days when she was left to her own devices felt drab in comparison. She used to think she could match anything professionals could do. Now all she wanted was to summon her stylist and stand like a shop dummy while his team made her beautiful.
She was examining the fur on the tip of her nose when someone knocked the front door. Startled, she backed away from the mirror, wondering whether she was too unsightly to answer she was such a mess, she might frighten away whoever was there. When the knock came again she scurried to answer it, both relived ad surprised when she checked the peephole.
“Fancy?” she said breathlessly as she opened the door and quickly rearranged herself to look demure but sensual. She had been practising the right expression in the mirror while applying her eye-shadow and was reasonably sure she had finally nailed the difference between sensual and suggestive. Photo Finish was constantly telling her she put ‘too much thump in her rump’ when she walked, which Fleur translated as veering too much towards indecency. When it came to Fancy Pants she wanted her body language to say ‘buy me an engagement ring’ not ‘buy me suspenders and a garter belt’.
Fancy Pants beamed at her appreciatively. Inwardly, Fleur danced with joy. Outwardly she only smiled back.
“Fleur de Lis, you’re looking marvellous, as always!” he said, gesturing expansively.
She preened. “You’re early. You weren’t supposed to pick me up for another hour.”
“How could I stay away?” he asked without missing a beat. “Your beauty drew me to you like a moth to a flame.”
“Oh, stop it,” she mewled, secretly ecstatic. “You’re terrible.”
Her heart had not only skipped a beat when she first met Fancy Pants, it had skipped so many she had thought she might pass out and have to be revived with those funny paddle things they always used in hospital dramas. The feeling of being floored whenever he smiled at her had not abated over time. She was as head-over-heels for him now as she had been at the beginning. He was just about the only pony who could make her forget when she was having a bad mane day, for Celestia’s sake!
“Did you bring the tickets?” she asked, noting he did not having them in his top pocket like usual.
“Tickets?”
“To the theatre.” At his blank expression she added, “For the opera?”
“Oh, that.” He waved a dismissive hoof. “Actually, sweetheart, I thought we might skip that.”
Her stomach fluttered – he had called her sweetheart! He never used pet names! Did that mean something? No, no, she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. Disappointment took the feeling’s place. She liked the opera. She may not always understand everything that was going on but the music was pretty and watching ponies whose vocal range went from rumbling the floorboards to shattering glass was amazing.
“Oh,” she said, trying not to let her voice show how she felt.
“Don’t be upset, sweetheart,” Fancy said smoothly. “We’ll still go out. I was just thinking maybe we could go somewhere else. Somewhere … private.” He met her eyes. “And talk.”
Fleur’s heart grew wings that flapped wildly inside her chest, making her gasp and try unsuccessfully to cover it. Talk? Somewhere private? He had said it so expressively! Plus, he would never cancel a visit to the opera unless it was important. Fancy loved opera more than anypony she had ever met – and he understood all the words, too! For him to voluntarily miss out could only mean one thing. Visions of engagement rings and wedding dresses blitzed her mind until she almost melted into a puddle of happy goop.
“So what do you say?” Fancy asked.
“I do! Um, I mean, uh, yes. Yes, I’d love to go out. Where were you thinking?”
“I thought we might just take a walk and see where we end up.” He shrugged. “See where the wind blows us, eh?”
“So you didn’t bring the carriage?”
“Carriage?”
“The Bentley?”
“Oh! No, no, I figured our own hooves would be better for this particular jaunt.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll just fetch my coat from upstairs.” She held in her squealing as she dashed away, grabbed the pink jacket she had been given after her last photo shoot, pulled up and proceeded back down the stairs more demurely. She didn’t want anything to spoil this moment, especially a bloody nose from falling on her face. “I’m ready.”
Fancy looked up, slipping something back into his top pocket. He had been looking at it rather intently.
“What’s that?” Fleur asked, a little put out that he had been more interested in it than her reappearance in what was, frankly, a rather stunning item. The jacket was cut to make her neck look even longer and more elegant. Then again, maybe he had been hiding a ring box!
“Just something,” he said a trifle too dismissively. She was right! “Wow, you look nice.”
“Just nice?” she pouted playfully.
“Okay, really nice.”
It was a far cry from his usual flowery compliments but she supposed he was just nervous about finally popping the question. He did remember to hold the door for her and walked so close to her on the footpath his flank brushed hers with every step. She shivered in delight and anticipation.
“You really are something, Fleur de Lis,” he said as they turned a corner and descended into the lower part of the city, where the indoor market branched out into various coach stations, taxi-cart ranks, railways and smaller walkways. Sitting halfway up a mountain, Canterlot had set the standard for a comprehensive transport system that actually worked.
Fleur frowned. “Why do you keep saying my full name, Fancy?”
“I like the sound of it,” he said quickly.
“You do?” He had never told her that before. “Really?”
“Of course. Would I lie to you?”
Fleur hooked one foreleg in his. They continued in a gait that was only a little awkward. She even leaned her head closer to his, though she stopped short of actually touching ears, the way she did when they were alone. She was, however, close enough to hear a faint jingling from his top pocket. It sounded like a small bell, which confused her until she realised it must mean he had brought his own ring too. They must have come loose in the box and were colliding musically as they walked. Or maybe he didn’t have a box and they were just jingling in his pocket. The lack of a box didn’t bother her, as long as there really were rings and her beloved Fancy Pants was really going to propose to her at last.
She sighed happily. Fancy was so articulate and strong. He didn’t go to the gym like other ponies who wanted to fill out a suit jacket properly, but he jogged every morning and was a champion fencer and cricketer. The Pants family were not famous for their magical abilities but he had been born with more than average skill. Sometimes, when she compared her own meagre magic to his, she wondered whether that was the reason they had been together for so long with no marriage on the horizon. Maybe his family didn’t approve of him marrying a unicorn with so little power. Yet now she knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. Fancy was going to as her to marry him tonight, she just knew it!
“I love you,” she murmured. “You know that, don’t you?”
Fancy smiled triumphantly. “I do indeed.”
Zecora looked surprised when she opened her door.
“Uh, hi,” Bon-Bon said awkwardly. She turned to the pegasi guards. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be fine here.”
“You sure?” asked the black stallion.
“Yeah. Thanks a lot, uh …”
“Valiant.”
“Thanks for the ride, Valiant. You too, Gallant.”
Gallant grunted, eyes studiously avoiding Zecora’s hut as if it hurt him to look at it. Valiant shot both mares a rueful look, bid them goodbye and together they dragged Luna’s chariot out of the clearing and back into the sky.
Bon-Bon turned to Zecora. “Could I come in?”
“You know my door is always wide for you to come along inside.” Zecora stepped sideways, leaving a gap for Bon-Bon to enter the hut. “Bon-Bon, you are looking thinner. Would you like to have some dinner?”
“No thanks, Zecora. I just came by to … apologise. I’ve been avoiding you and that was wrong of me.”
“Just as every year has seasons, every pony has her reasons.”
“Yeah, well, mine weren’t very good ones. I overreacted to something you said and then couldn’t come and admit I was in the wrong.” Bon-Bon scuffed the floor with one hoof. “To be honest, if those ponies hadn’t brought me back to Ponyville, I might not have come by for another few days.”
“Such an awful thing is pride,” Zecora said regretfully. “All it does is hurt and divide.”
“It wasn’t about pride,” said Bon-Bon. “It was about … ach, I don’t know. Trying to be realistic?”
Zecora fixed her with a stern look. “On yourself you are too hard. The facts, you cannot disregard. Living life is tough, it’s true, but fight it? That, you cannot do. You took offence when I said ‘living’, and though I am not unforgiving, this much I must say to you: Bon-Bon, your life is not through! Being Slayer is only part of what you keep within your heart. Though it does bring its own strife, do not let it dictate your life. Once, you only knew to roam: now you’ve made this town your home. Though, someday, this may be done, enjoy it now for it’s hard-won. Though I can tell you doubt me still, you’ve made a life in Ponyville.”
“A half-life, Zecora. A life where I’m not supposed to get too close to anypony in case they learn about the demons and start a panic. I’ve messed up big time getting as close as I have. There’s a reason Slayers don’t usually put down roots. When ponies get to know you, they start to suspect you’re not telling them the whole truth, or they’re more likely to be put in positions where they’re in danger or will learn the truth. No-one in Equestria can seal the breaches into the Demon Dominion. Not even Celestia could do it. Ponies can’t find out about them. It would ruin too many lives with fear and … and suffering.”
“Are you trying to convince me?” Zecora asked softly. “Or is that more conflict I see?”
“I’ve never wanted to tell anypony about being the Slayer,” Bon-Bon admitted. “I’ve always wanted to keep everyone ignorant so they can get on with their own lives and not know how close evil really is. Most think darkness is something contained in the Everfree, or kept out of Equestria by the princesses’ magic, and the majority of it is. You and I both know that demon attacks aren’t as common as they used to be. A hundred years ago, two hundred years, three, four or five – the Slayer has had an impact on deterring demons from crossing over. Sometimes, when I was on the road, I could go a whole month of travelling without anypony calling in a real sighting. So why terrify regular citizens needlessly? But here in Ponyville … they know about how close evil can come, here. You can’t live this near to the Everfree, or have the kind of stuff they’ve had happen to them without it making them look at the world differently than ponies in, say, Canterlot or Trottingham.”
“Though I do agree somewhat, I can sense a coming ‘but’.”
“I’ve known from the beginning that ponies are happier when they don’t know about the darkness, so that’s why the Slayer works in secret. So why is it only NOW I want to tell it when I know I shouldn’t?” Bon-Bon waved a hoof. “No, no, don’t answer that. I already know why. You were right, Zecora; part of me really wants to just have a normal life here in Ponyville. But don’t you see? I can’t. It can only ever be a half-life and the more I invest in it, the more it’ll hurt when something goes wrong or I have to leave and I can’t tell anypony where I’m going or why. You’ll be able to stay here if you want to. There are lots of Watchers who can pick up the slack. There’s only one Slayer and I’m it. The rules are different for me than they are for other ponies.”
“Am I so easily replaced? Gone from your heart? My name erased?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Bon-Bon sighed heavily. “If you want to stick with Ponyville and have a normal life, I wouldn’t blame you. If the demons were suddenly all gone and I had the choice between going back to Manehattan to my family and staying here, I’d stay here in a heartbeat. Ponyville … it gets under your skin. You think you won’t care about some hick town in the middle of nowhere but you do. You end up caring more about this place and the ponies in it than anywhere else you’ve ever been.”
Zecora nodded. “I know all the words to that song. Ponyville makes you feel you belong. Though sometimes it takes them a while to see, it is a good place for misfits like you and me.”
“Misfit? Yeah, that’s a good way of describing it. I’ve never fitted in anywhere like I’ve fitted in here. It’s kind of scary, actually. I want to go deeper. I want this to all be real … but it’s not. It can’t be. Not for me. If I get so close to anypony I’m thinking of spilling the beans about being Slayer, I’m risking too much; they safety, their happiness and my own. I … I don’t want to hurt like I did before. Losing someone I care too deeply about is … I can’t. I just can’t. And I can’t put anypony else through it by letting them care too much about me, either.”
Zecora watched her for a long moment. Then, without warning, she took a step forward and wrapped a foreleg around her in an awkward hug. Bon-Bon froze; Zecora was not exactly the hugging type.
“Can you not already see? You mean so very much to ME. Bon-Bon, don’t you comprehend how much I’LL weep upon your end? Every night and every day, I hope to see you old and grey, settled, happy, filled with bliss; all I want for you is this.”
“I want it too.” Bon-Bon was astounded to find tears in her eyes. She had long since resigned herself to what being the Slayer meant. Why was she getting upset about it all over again after all this time? “S-Sometimes … something I love being the Slayer. I love that I’m able to keep ponies safe, even if they don’t know I’m doing it. Whenever I see Twilight Sparkle with her friends, I’m happy that I made that possible. If I see foals with their mothers walking down the street, I’m proud that I’m making the world a little bit better for them to grow up in. But sometimes … sometimes …”
Her throat felt full of burning hot lava. It stripped away her ability to speak as she gulped convulsively and tried to blink away the evidence that she had done the very thing she had promised herself she would not: she had allowed herself to care again. After Windwhistler, she had vowed she would keep everything professional and all ponies at a distance. She had broken that promise and, in turn, the pieces were breaking her.
“Sometimes,” she croaked, “I hate being the Slayer so much I want to throw up. I want to shout ‘Why me?’ even though I now no-one can answer me. Not really. Not properly. Why did I get all this responsibility? Why was I Chosen? Why not somepony else?”
“Answers I do not possess,” Zecora said softly. “Truly, the spell is a mess.”
“You’re telling me,” Bon-Bon sniffed. “I told you not to care about me. When we first met, I told you. Do you remember that?”
Zecora nodded into her mane. “Remember that? I surely do. Even then I felt for you. You seemed so troubled, brought so low; few emotions did you show. Yet, as time marched swiftly on, a transformation has begun. Though you still war with your strife, you seemed to be enjoying life. I should not have called attention to this wondrous reinvention. All I’ve done is create sadness when all I want is to see is gladness.”
“It’s not your fault, Zecora. Actually … I … you … thank you for …” Bon-Bon struggled to communicate what was inside her. Zecora would miss her if she died and, importantly, she would know the how and why. If Bon-Bon had to leave, her Watcher would go with her. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. Zecora didn’t need to say it. “Thank you for listening to me. And also for not listening to me.”
Zecora gave a short, croaky chuckle of her own. “Look at us, the misfit pair. But we shall not fall to despair. We will take what we can get. The future is not written yet! No matter what we hope or fear, together we will persevere. Thick or thin, we will pull through, and I promise to stay with you. You cannot make me go away, no matter what you do or say. I will help you live your life – despite the spell, despite your strife. Whatever choices you will choose, I will not stop you or refuse.”
“You’re my Watcher,” Bon-Bon pointed out. “You’re supposed to tell me no once in a while.”
“In Slayer things, yes, this is true; but I am talking just of YOU. If you do choose to share your heart, I won’t let it be torn apart. These things you fear, I will allay. This much I promise you this day.”
“It’s … I …” Bon-Bon awkwardly extracted herself from the hug. Even though it had gone on probably too long, she didn’t want to let go. It was easier to say all these things when you weren’t looking someone in the face and seeing their reactions. “Thank you. I can’t promise I’ll do what you want or think is best but … thank you.”
Her connection to the sword was screaming as it reacted to her wildly fluctuating emotions. She pawed at the sword-belt, as if trying to find an off switch.
“What is that you have got there?” Zecora asked. “A sword? I sense a tale to share.”
Bon-Bon explained about Princess Luna and the sword she had forged as Nightmare Moon. Zecora’s eyes grew round as she went on. When Bon-Bon had finished she actually whistled.
“I’ve never heard you do that before.” Sudden incongruous giggles took possession of Bon-Bon’s throat. She tried to choke them down with limited success. “Since when could you whistle, Zecora?”
“That skill is less than interesting compared to you and this new thing,” Zecora replied. “The Lunar Sword and Slayer combined. You say it is linked to your mind?”
“Yeah. It’s actually a bit annoying.” More giggles threatened to overwhelm her as one out of control emotion bled into another. “Like listening to someone talk themselves in another room. It doesn’t know when to shut up.” She unhooked the belt. “I’m not really comfortable going on patrol with it yet. Not until I’ve practised using it. I don’t need any distractions if there are more demons around than usual.”
She left not long after, also abandoning her saddlebags in favour of a sash of pouches Zecora lent her to carry the banishing power. The Lunar Sword hummed fretfully in the back of her mind, reacting to being left behind.
Stop that, she thought wildly, mostly to herself. I can’t hear myself think! She didn’t expect any response and so was surprised when the sword’s presence retreated like a kicked dog. She paused in the midst of Zecora’s masks, staring at the ground as she tentatively thought: I’ll be back soon. The sword’s presence transmitted something like a whine mixed with a purr. It would wait for her here if that was what she wanted.
“Wow,” she said aloud. “I didn’t expect that to actually work.”
She was so preoccupied with this development that she did not notice Zecora mouthing silently as she walked away.
“Before you, purpose I did lack, but you gave me my heartbeat back. No matter what cruel fate will send, I will be with you to the end.”