//------------------------------//
// Interlude 3 - The Shadows Have Eyes 
// Story: Phoenix-born Rising - The Ascension of Sunset Shimmer 
// by The Voice in the Water 
//------------------------------//


Eastern Territory, the day after Duke Highblood’s arrest


The early morning sky was grey and overcast in Hazelnut Vale, with a light drizzle wetting the ground and bringing out the scent of the cedars and pines surrounding the town. The residents, bundled up in oiled coats and wide-brimmed hats, paid the moisture little mind, since they knew by midday Celestia’s sun would burn off the clouds and bring with it the blessed warmth of their goddess’s light.

The town itself was nestled in a small wooded valley. Half of the land around town was dedicated to the production of lumber by the residents. For generations, the earth-weavers had gently shaped the trees in such a way that their bases were formed into natural hedge platforms that would generate tall, straight, high-quality trunks. This method allowed the residents to safely harvest the lumber without killing the trees. The other half was left in a semi-natural state, other than the abundant hazelnut bushes the residents planted and tended to. The quality of the nuts grown in the Vale was well known throughout the Eastern Territory and made up a sizable part of the town's income, primarily from selling them to their fellow sun-gazers, but also through trade with the kirintal to the north.

Most of the residents began their days expecting nothing to be out of the ordinary: they'd get up, have breakfast with their families, then head out to their clan’s woodland plots to check which of the trees were ready to harvest, or if the season was right, gather the latest crop of hazelnuts. Others would head out into the woods to gather wild fruits, herbs and roots for food and medicine, or set out to trap wild game to add a little meat to their diets. Others stayed in town to manage their clan’s plot in the large, central garden that grew domestic fruits and vegetables.

Yet, as the residents slowly emerged from their homes and made their way down the flagstone roads to begin their days, many of them noticed a large crowd gathered around town square. Curiosity piqued, they approached to see what had drawn in so many of their fellows.

When they arrived, they heard a loud voice with a Heliopolan accent calling out into the early morning air, which could only mean one thing: there was important news from the capital. It was common knowledge that the phoenix-rite had taken place on the solstice five days prior, and that Archduchess Roseluck had been in attendance to aid Lady Inkwell in administering the ceremony. Most of them had expected news about the outcome of the phoenix-rite a few days ago, and the lack of news had the gossip mill in town on overdrive.

More and more residents approached the emissary from the holy city. As they melded into the crowd, they could finally make out what he was saying.

“…ascension was marred with deceit, as members of a cabal of corrupt nobles sought to interfere with the ascendance and deny the proper candidates from being given their divinely ordained chance at ascendance. But, in her eternal duty as the guardian of Solaria, Lady Inkwell and her anointed agents, The Eyes of the Sun, were able to not only ensure that the children meant to be joined in the ascension were present, but arrest those responsible for this blasphemous act. Though the names of most of the conspirators have not been revealed by Lady Inkwell, it is known that Duke Highblood of Aurorias has been stripped of his titles and brought to holy Chromos for his part in heading this treasonous conspiracy.”

“At this time, Sunset Shimmer and her blessed companion Philomena are in the care of Lady Inkwell and Archduchess Roseluck as she prepares for her instruction under Queen Celestia.”

All present saw the messenger take a deep breath before beginning again.

“Hear ye, hear ye! I bear news from Heliopolis on the events surrounding the most recent ascension. On this year fifteen-hundred in Queen Celestia’s reign, the outcome of the fifth phoenix-rite has concluded. By the grace of Queen Lumina, Sunset Shimmer of Golden Tree in the Western Territory was chosen by the blessed fire child, and has taken her place among the chosen ascendants.

“However, the holy ascension was marred with deceit…”

As the messenger repeated his news, murmurs of anger passed through the crowd. A noble from the holy city had sought to blaspheme against the phoenix-rite? The thought sent spikes of rage coursing through their veins. Whispers began to spread as the townsfolk who’d heard the news left and new came in to replace them. Despite their anger, many of them were also relieved to know that Archduchess Roseluck was there to aid both Lady Inkwell and the newest ascendant in this trying time. If Roseluck was with the newest ascendant, things would work out.

Yet, unnoticed by any of the townsfolk or the messenger, there was one more listener skulking in the shadows: a lone man leaning against the the wall of one of the buildings, his arms crossed over his chest and his head leaned forward as he listened intently to the crier. The man was thoroughly unremarkable in appearance, and anyone who looked his way would find it difficult to notice him, as though his presence was nothing more than a strange, irrelevant afterthought. Had they somehow pierced the haze surrounding him and taken a closer look, they would have seen that he was nothing more than an earth-weaver, his short cropped dusty silver and light blue-streaked hair complimenting his piercing, brilliant aqua eyes and grayish cyan skin. Unlike the rest of the Vale's residents, he was dressed in a simple yet durable set of traveler’s clothes and a long, grey cloak that, while both well cared for, were all worn with age and use.

The man remained still and silent as he listened, his brows creased and a sharp frown formed on his face. Once he was certain he'd heard enough, he rose from the wall in a single fluid motion and began to walk towards the western edge of town, his passage going unnoticed by any of the townsfolk.

Soon, he had made his way out of town and began to make his way down the main highway, pulling his cloak a little tighter to ward off the last remnants of the morning’s chill. Once out of sight of the town, he shifted from a casual walk to a light jog, occasionally passing by groups of earth-weavers driving lumber carts to the site of their daily harvest. As before, they paid him no mind.

As he jogged, the signs of earth-weaver silviculture gradually decreased, as did sightings of the residents of Hazelnut Vale, until they eventually disappeared altogether. Soon, the forest became wild and untamed.

After nearly twenty minutes of jogging, he reached a bend in the road. To his right was a particularly dense section of trees known as the Watcher's Woods. This region was considered a site of poor fortune for the local sun-gazers due to the forest’s unusual density, and the resulting darkness. Stories told of strange spirits and visions that came to anyone who entered the region, and of misfortune that befell anyone foolish enough to attempt to tame it. The sun-gazers had thus left it be, out of fear of possibly angering whatever entities that made the Watcher's Woods their home.

Slowing to a stop and checking the road ahead and behind, he searched for any potential witnesses. Once sure that the coast was clear, he abruptly turned and darted off the main highway and into the woods.

At first, he had to push through the thick underbrush, but soon he came upon a small, all but invisible trail within the shadows of the trees. Deeper and deeper into the woodland he went, the trail leading him farther away from civilization and into the heart of the wild. Soon, the trees became overgrown, the woodland’s floor thick with decomposing cedar and pine needles, while the branches of the trees overhead blocked most of the light from Celestia’s sun.

In the gloom, any sun-gazer would be hopelessly lost.

But to his eyes, the darkness meant nothing, as he could see the path ahead just as easily as he could his way through town.

As he made his way through the trees, he became aware that he was being observed. From all angles, he could feel the attention of the entities that made Watcher's Woods their home turn towards him. From his peripheral vision, he could see shapes moving in the canopy and between the trunks. They made no sound, but their constant motion on the periphery of his senses would have put any sun-gazer on edge. After a few moments of observation, he felt the entities turn away and disperse. 

Unlike the residents of the Vale, his presence was not resented by the wood’s residents, allowing him safe passage through their realm.

After what was probably nearly an hour of travel, he reached his destination: a small, hidden camp in a clearing at the heart of the wood. The camp itself was situated in the shadow of a massive, grey stone outcrop and contained only a simple bedroll, a pair of saddlebags, a endurance riding saddle and a rugged-looking grey mare tied to one of the nearby trees.

At the sight of the man, the mare let out a happy nicker and turned to face him. Approaching her, the man held out his hand and gently patted her cheek before pressing his forehead to hers. Wordlessly, he walked around and quickly packed up his camp, saddling his horse and placing his bags on her. Untying her, he swung up into the saddle and placed his hands on her neck, giving her an affectionate rub just below her ears. Looking out into the trees, the man could faintly feel the presence of the wood's residents watching him. Bowing slightly, the man silently acknowledged them and offered his thanks to them for his safe passage. As he did, he felt an acknowledgement in return, before the entities dispersed back into the trees.

With a gentle squeeze of his legs, he urged his horse around and onto a second, slightly wider trail, heading north-west towards the Solarian border.

*****

After the first day of riding, the man and his mount exited the thickest portion of the woodlands, and rejoined the main highway. Every night, they’d leave the road and camp in some out of the way spot, never staying in any of the sun-gazer towns they passed through for more than a brief time to resupply.

The towns became scarcer and scarcer until, on the fourth day, they vanished entirely. The land itself was changing too, going from thick cedar woodland to sparse broad-leaf woods, and eventually giving way to open, rocky, oak savanna dotted with large, dark-grey, stone outcrops.

It was late afternoon on the sixth day when the man spotted his destination in the distance. With a gentle squeeze of his legs and a pat to her neck, he turned his mount off the main highway and onto a disused dirt road, one that led towards one of the largest rock outcrops in the region.

In the early days of Solaria, the sun-gazers had named this particular outcrop “The Sun’s Sentinel.” The outcrop had served as a landmark for travelers before the main road had been built, and still served as one for sky-runner border patrols.

Despite its local importance, the region around the Sentinel was not inhabited by sun-gazers. Most passed through as quickly as possible, as something about the region had always made them uneasy, despite not appearing any different than other areas within a day's ride that they’d found perfectly acceptable. Eventually, they had simply chalked it up to possible Chaos contamination in the area, and had decided that it was best left alone.

But the man knew that the reason that the sun-gazers avoided the region was something else entirely.

It took nearly two hours of riding, but eventually, they reached the base of the massive mound of tree-studded basalt boulders.

Dismounting, the man stepped off the trail and led his horse into the knee-length grass. They made their way around the base of the mound until they reached a large yet unremarkable boulder.

Stepping away from his horse, the man reached around one side of the boulder and, feeling along the edge of the stone, found a small depression in its surface. Pushing his fingers into the depression, he tapped into a well of energy deep within his body. However, this well was not filled with the flame of a sun-gazer.

It was a well of pure life energy.

As his hand pressed to the stone, he purged his mind of all emotion and entered a state of empty calm. Once his mind was emptied of all other thoughts and feelings, he began to focus on a series of mental mantras that refined the life energy into magical energy. Once transformed, he pushed the converted life energy into the enchanted shadows hiding under the stone. Fed on the life energy, the shadows came to life and began to roil and writhe.

Stepping back, the man watched the shadows carry the stone back into the mound to reveal a long, deep, lightless passage. Approaching his horse, he placed his hand on her cheek and gently guided her down into the tunnel. Once the two of them had passed through the entryway, the shadows slid the stone back into place, cutting off all light.

Like when he’d traveled through the woodland, the darkness didn’t impede the man’s sight as he guided his mount deeper into the tunnel. Despite the lack of light, the mare followed the man’s guidance with confidence, their years of trust and training allowing him to guide her without her fearing for her safety.

As they descended, the man kept a steady pace through the labyrinthine network under the Sentinel. Memories carved into his mind from years of passing through these very tunnels guided him down the correct forks when the corridor split, and through the hidden switchbacks that he would have missed had he not been familiar with their locations.

After a time, he reached his destination: a large half-domed cavern nearly fifty meters in diameter. The artificial cave had been meticulously and secretly shaped from the interior of the mound millennia ago by his people and kept hidden from the watchful eyes of the sun-gazers through powerful illusionary and fear magic infused into the very stone of the Sentinel.

The far end of the dome was occupied by a small, square house shaped from the mound itself, as well as a series of tiered pools fed by a small, natural spring. Next to the house was a large stable for his mount, which included its own water supply.

On the opposite side of the cavern were several planters for a garden large enough to feed the man and his mount with fresh fruits, vegetables and grass. The beds were outfitted with enchanted metal rods that produced artificial sunlight, and were enchanted to brighten and dim in sync with the actual movements of the sun. Beside the planters was an enormous caged area containing a second pond, numerous coops for ducks and chickens kept fed by a small mechanical hopper he’d stolen from a Heliopolan ranch years ago, and an abundant lawn of grass, also kept alive and healthy by enchanted, light-producing rods.

But most striking was what dominated the center of it all: a large, moderate-grey crystal protruding from the middle of a massive, rune-carved triangle. The crystal itself was partially shrouded by wisps of swirling shadow, and glowed with a strange inner light.

Leading his mount to the stable, the man removed the bags and saddle and, with one last affectionate rub to her cheek, left her to relax after their journey.

Depositing the bags in the house and removing his clothes, the man approached the spring and drew a bucket of water. Taking the bucket to a small cistern and collecting a small rag, he washed the dust and sweat of his journey from his body, savoring the coldness of the liquid on his tired muscles.

Once clean, he returned to the house and retrieved a small box containing incense and a light grey, crystalline ritual knife. Box in hand, he made his way out of the building, not bothering to put any clothes on as he strode purposefully towards the pen with his birds.

Reaching the pen, he unlocked the gate and entered. Looking around the coop, he surveyed the animals, his senses open to feel the life energy coursing through each of them. After a few moments, he made his choice: a duck that was slightly larger and more well fed than the others. With practiced ease, he crept forward and snatched the bird by its neck, his hand applying pressure to its windpipe to prevent it from struggling.

Bird and box in hand, he retreated from the coop and made his way towards the crystal.

Standing before the massive monolith, the man set the box down and retrieved the ritual blade. Without hesitation, he lifted the bird and, with a swift, practiced motion, severed its head. As the bird’s body dropped to the ground and its blood flowed into the carved runes, the well of life within his body hungrily drank in the fleeing life energy of the sacrificed animal, refilling it enough to fulfill his next task.

He wiped the blade clean and returned it to the box. Then, setting both the box and the decapitated duck carcass outside the circle, he drew out three small sticks of incense and a long match. Walking counterclockwise along the edge of the triangle, he placed one stick at each point, lighting them as he did, filling the air with an acrid, sweet scent.

His preparations complete, he stepped up to the crystal, placed his hand on its surface, closed his eyes, and drew forth energy from his well of life, clearing his mind of all thoughts and emotions. Once he was ready, he passed the life energy through the lens of a mental mantra, sending it down his hand into the crystal and through his feet into the runes.

The moment the life energy touched the crystal and the runes, they flared to life with writhing shadows, the crystal hungrily consuming the offering. As it did, the wisps clinging to the crystal’s surface erupted outward, as the world around the man faded into a maelstrom of swirling shadows.

Despite the manifestation, the man didn’t flinch.

Remaining in place, he focused his mind on the crystal, sending forth a beacon into the umbra. And, in the depths of the umbra, he felt a reply. Keeping his mind focused on the crystal, he strengthened his calling by pouring more life energy into it.

With one final call, the man felt the ones he’d beckoned to the crystal arrive. From the three points of the runic triangle, they began to coalesce into three silhouettes made of swirling ribbons of shadow.

The first was a slight, feminine form that was a head shorter than the man, the shape of the manifestation making her look like she was wearing long robes and carrying a staff in her right hand. Her only feature beyond her general shape was a pair of glowing, points of light where her eyes would be. Despite her petite size, an unmistakable aura of authority radiated from the manifestation, as well as a sense of peace and safety.

The second was also female, though much taller than the first, and easily towered over the man. Where the first silhouette’s shape suggested robes, the second’s gave the impression of traveler’s clothing, while in her hands was a long, two-handed glaive. Like the first, her features were indistinct outside a pair of points of light for eyes. Unlike the first, this manifestation’s aura gave a feeling of warmth and hope in addition to her authoritative presence.

The final manifestation was the sole male among them and was easily as tall as the second. He was much more massive than either of his companions, while in his right hand he carried some sort of weapon that resembled a broad, square-bladed axe. This manifestation gave off a sense of stability and strength, as well as a desire to protect.

Attend us, our watcher. We have heard your call.

The man heard no words, only the intent of the three he had called out to.

Stepping away from the crystal, he lifted his hands, and began to sign.

“My ladies and my lord, I bring tidings from the Tyrant’s domain. It appears as though there has been a major upheaval within the Tyrant's capital. The ritual to bind one of the Tyrant's people to the queen of the fire-birds’ newest child has been thrown into disarray. Members of the Tyrant's decadent and corrupt ruling body attempted to manipulate the ritual and place an undeserving member among the Tyrant's ageless slaves. However, the Tyrant's eldest servant, from before the breaking of the sky, thwarted their attempts, and ensured that the fire-bird queen's child bonded with a proper candidate: a young girl from the west. This event occurred on the longest day of the year.”

The three silhouettes seemed to contemplate this news.

You are sure of this? the taller of the female silhouettes projected into his mind. That her transformation occurred on the longest day?

"I am, my lady. The news has spread far and wide among the Tyrant's slaves. There is no doubt about the date."

Another moment passed as the three silhouettes considered this news.

This is a most inauspicious coincidence, the slight silhouette projected.

Indeed, the burly male silhouette projected. On the same day in the Deceiver's domain, the queen of the spectral wolves likewise bonded one of her pack to a night-child.

The man regarded this information for a moment.

“That is… most concerning,” he signed. “Has such a convergence ever occurred?”

No, the tall female silhouette projected. Even in the time before the sky was broken, the ascension of the Tyrant's and Deceiver's slaves has never occurred on the same day. The consequences of such a thing are unknown, even to us. It could be nothing, or it could be a portent.

I doubt such an event would happen by chance, the slight silhouette projected. The Empress, forever may she reign, has a plan for this world, and I would not be surprised if this convergence may be part of that plan.

While the man considered what the silhouettes had told him, he sensed a new presence approaching. Unlike the first three, this one was something far more powerful. Something far more ancient and grand, making the three surrounding him feel like nothing more than drops of water in a vast ocean. As the presence settled over the gathering, the three silhouettes dropped to a knee and bowed their heads, while the man fully prostrated himself on the floor.

Soon, the presence had engulfed them, drowning out everything other than itself within the gathering. Then, in the midst of its visitation, the greater presence projected its decree into the minds of the gathered four.

When light and darkness meet,
Ways once lost are found anew,
Both sides of the coin lead to disaster,
Its edge the only hope of salvation.

And as soon as the presence had come, it was gone, leaving the man exhausted and trembling.

Rising back to their full height, the silhouettes addressed the man.

It seems that there is more at stake than we thought, the burly silhouette projected. Remain within the Tyrant’s territory and learn what you can of this newest immortal.

“Your will be done, body of shadows,”

If possible, learn what you can of this newest immortal's capabilities and character. She may yet be a danger to us all, the slight silhouette projected.

“As you wish, mind of shadows.”

Should we learn more, we will contact you. Above all, remain safe, our watcher. We do not wish to see you lost to the Tyrant’s fires, the tall silhouette projected warmly.

“I will be, spirit of shadows.”

Then go, our watcher, the slight silhouette projected. May the shadow guide your path.

May the shadow guide your path, the others projected, before fading away into the maelstrom.

Slowly, the world returned to itself. Taking a few moments to recover, the man leaned down and retrieved his box and the duck’s body. Resolutely, he began to walk back to the house. He’d take a few days to formulate his plans, then head back out.