Twilight and Midnight climbed in silence, horns aglow.
They didn’t need to say anything to each other. Midnight, alert, suspicious, and expecting confrontation, had erected a sturdy arcane shield around them as soon as they started up the spiraling crystal stairs. Twilight was curious but cautious, drawn onwards by the notion of another pony like herself to talk to.
Twilight ascended the steps at a brisk pace, reviewing the possibilities in her head. According to the crystal ponies, the Shaper had been around before the floods, centuries ago. If that was the same Shaper that had just spoken to her—as opposed to a descendant or successor—then she could be mere moments away from facing a being that witnessed the fate of Equestria.
The list of creatures that could live such lengths was short. Alicorns were immortal, but surely the indisputably masculine voice ruled out the possibility. Discord had lived a thousand years at least, but Twilight could never forget the heartless laughter in that monster’s voice, and it wasn’t him. Perhaps a dragon? It would make some sense; there were several cases of ancient pony societies forming around the worship of dragons styling themselves as gods, but dragons weren’t known for their powers of enchantment or architectural talents. Why would a dragon lock himself away in a crystal tower filled with strange magic for hundreds of years, hidden from the ponies he’d claimed as his followers? And besides, she hadn’t seen any draconic imagery within the village above.
And what of Cadance? Her trail led straight to the crystal ponies and their mysterious empire, but the only sign of her passage was one crystal bust with a feminine head and a long, slender horn.
To Twilight’s surprise, the stairs came to an end after only a few minutes of walking. She climbed up onto the landing, the echo of her hooves hinting at distant, unseen walls.
She was surrounded by darkness, a black so thick it was as if the world ended only a few steps beyond the lavender glow of her shield. Her own breathing filled her ears, interspersed with the distant, muffled sounds of grinding crystal and settling architecture.
Twilight’s shield fizzled out.
She gasped, wincing from a sudden sharp pain at the base of her horn. She opened her eyes to find the darkness had closed in, wrapping around her coat so thick she couldn’t see her own muzzle.
She froze, heart pounding in her chest. A breath of cold air brushed against her leg and she cringed back, straining her ears.
The strange voice returned, echoing around her.
“Fret not, Chosen, for even those blessed by Our touch are blind within the Spire. Close your eyes. Take guidance by Our voice.”
Midnight! Twilight called, spreading her stance. Her hooftip scraped against a rock, making her stumble. She tried to call on her magic and send out a quick ping to get her bearings, but the spell never returned. What’s happening?!
It is the same magic that pushed against us during our descent. Midnight’s eyes appeared in the darkness, narrowed and alert. We are deep in the monster’s lair, little flower.
Slowly, Twilight turned towards the Shaper’s voice, sliding her hooves over the ground out of fear of tripping over some unseen debris. A light appeared before her, shimmering gold, and she crept towards it with bated breath.
It was impossible to gauge the distance. What she’d taken for a lantern grew to be a brazier, or perhaps a window, and then a bonfire. When she finally came close enough to see her hooves below her she saw its true nature: a group of jagged cracks spiderwebbing across the crystal floor from a crater, nearly as big as she was and radiating a warm golden light that streamed up from below. She lifted a hoof up to the glow, eyes widening at the gentle warmth that played across her coat.
Sunlight.
Celestia did this.
A mighty blast, to have pierced the crystal so deeply, Midnight said. She did not hold back against this enemy.
Ametrine’s legend said the Sun fought the Shaper in the Spire.
And yet the Shaper is still here. We must be ready to finish what she started.
Twilight pursed her lips as she edged around the strange crater, trying to use its light to see more of the space around her. The Shaper’s echo was already barely audible, and with no landmarks, not even a wall to follow, she couldn’t tell if she’d gotten turned around. On a hunch she closed her eyes and was rewarded by a faint tug at the back of her skull, pulling insistently in one direction.
Just like when we found Luna, she thought, opening her eyes.
When she lured us to her, yes.
The darkness resumed just a few steps from the crater, but she could just make out the light reflecting against a jagged shape further away, like a broken blade sticking out of the ground. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she crept towards it, not stopping even when she left the sunlight behind and was left in complete blackness once again.
After agonizing seconds, she flinched as she bumped into something smooth and cold. She reached out and felt out its shape with her hoof. It was big, too wide for her to wrap her legs around and too tall for her to reach the top, with hard edges that threatened to cut into her frog. She let out a frustrated sigh, calling on her magic to try another ping.
A pale blue light flickered up in front of her. She stiffened, immediately dropping her magic, and was plunged into darkness once more.
What was that?
Whatever it was, I’d rather be able to see it.
Midnight channeled their magic, and the light returned. Blinking, Twilight realized she was hunched down in front of a huge, jagged spike of crystal, driven into the floor at an odd angle. It glowed pale blue whenever she lit her horn, falling dark once more as soon as she stopped.
It’s catching our magic, Twilight realized. Like an enchanted lantern.
This is no lantern. The crystal’s glow returned as they channeled magic again, and Twilight saw the deadly point at its crest. This is a weapon.
Twilight shivered, huddling close to the light. She spotted two more golden glows, one high and at an angle as though on a wall, and the other down on the floor. She made for the closer one, hesitating as the crystal behind her dimmed with every step.
Progress was slow, but her confidence grew with every light source she found. She moved from crater to crater when possible, using the crystal spikes to bridge the gap when she couldn’t trace a path directly between the craters of Celestia’s magic. Occasionally she would stop and try another ping, almost out of reflex, but the response was always the same: no return, and a slight pulse of pain at the base of her horn.
Gradually she built a mental image of the space around her, using the scattered light sources as reference points. She was moving down a wide hall with a high ceiling. Large chunks of debris littered the path in isolated clumps, visible only by their silhouette as Twilight crawled from light to light.
Something appeared in the corner of her vision. Twilight froze, head snapping around to lock onto the potential threat, but could see nothing in the dark.
She waited, listening. Nothing but the faint groaning of distant crystal reached her ears.
After several seconds she looked away, only to immediately see the thing again in the same spot, just as she began to move. She jumped, angling her whole body towards it, the hairs standing tall on the back of her neck.
Nothing. Just more darkness.
She moved her head side to side, trying to replicate the effect, and then—there. A shadow. She closed and opened her eyes, trying to discern its shape, but it melted out of sight every time she looked straight at it. She took a step closer, turning her head to catch it in her peripheral vision again.
The hall was pitch-black here, as lightless as the ruins of Canterlot before she gained her mutated vision, yet there was something even darker before her. Something that cast a shadow despite being untouched by light.
She fixed her gaze on it, carefully strafing around to place it between her and the nearest glowing crater. The light seemed to curve around it, silhouetting a tall, jagged shape.
Another crystal spear, Midnight said. But this must have been made by a different caster from the others.
The Shaper’s dual aspects. Twilight nodded. Two different ponies.
And two different enemies. Midnight’s floating eyes narrowed, looking around. Yet only one has spoken to us. Whichever we face first, we must destroy them utterly, before the other can join battle.
But how? I’m blind here. She walked sideways until the crater’s light shone clearly again, walking into its radius and searching for the next light source.
Blind, yes, but not helpless. And not alone. We can overcome it.
Midnight began to channel magic, and after some hesitation Twilight joined her, clenching her jaw as she strained to overcome the arcane resistance hanging in the air. A familiar pain blossomed in her horn, but instead of backing down, she embraced it, using it as an anchor. A weak light flickered at the tip of her horn, and she groaned as the pain sharpened, body tensing until Midnight took more of it onto herself.
No. I can take it. Twilight grit her teeth, taking the pain back. A thousand needles drove into her skull, another being added with every second, but she refused to back down. Bloody tears welled in her eyes and her hooves shook, but the thought of coming so far and failing now was more sickening than any physical agony.
It felt like breaking through a wall; at once the pain faded, reduced to an insistent but manageable throbbing. She gasped as her horn burst into light, flaring like a star in the darkness.
You see? Midnight draped herself over Twilight’s back. Unstoppable.
Panting, Twilight focused the glow into a spotlight. On the ocean floor, it would’ve penetrated a hundred meters. Yet here it bought her only a few steps, and even then the light seemed to shudder and waver, as if the darkness was fighting back.
Traversing the hall was far easier now that she had her own light, even if it came at the cost of a pounding headache. She cast the beam around her and saw the walls for the first time. Colorful crystal mosaics adorned them, depicting cracked images of smiling ponies dressed in gold and silk.
She took two steps past the glow of the crater behind her, and a pair of eyes reflected her light back at her.
Twilight yelped, hastily summoning a small shield around herself. The spike of pain that followed brought her to her knees, the shield sparking out of existence an instant later.
Jumping at corpses again? Midnight teased. Surely we’re past that by now, little flower.
Twilight blinked, straightening up. The eyes were not eyes, but a pair of pitch-dark gemstones set into the skull of a desiccated corpse. Stepping closer she saw the sparkling jewelry and bleached bone trinkets wrapped around its limbs, though its coat was dull and patchy, far from the twinkling glow of a living crystal pony. Its ribs had collapsed and its face had rotted entirely into expressionless bone, but one of its hind legs was encased in a solid block of inky black crystal that greedily swallowed up her light, little tendrils stretching up the corpse’s thigh like questing tentacles.
I hate this place, Twilight said, frowning down at the body. It feels like I’m in Canterlot again.
I suspect we’re in far more danger here than we ever were in Canterlot.
Twilight nodded, looking up and scanning her surroundings.
The edge of her light fell on a limp hoof. She inched forward, pulling another corpse out of the darkness, and a few steps past it, another.
The previous Chosen. She grimaced, backing up against a wall. We’ve been walking between them all this time.
Such fanfare over the title, only to be left forgotten and decayed in the corners of an old ruin. Midnight let out a dark chuckle as she brushed a hoof down the nearest corpse’s back. How would the crystal ponies react, I wonder, if they knew the fate of those they sent down here?
We can’t assume all Chosen end up like this, Twilight said. Dozens of them must’ve come here before us. Some of them may have survived.
“Your eyes are not closed, Chosen.” The Shaper’s voice thundered around her. “Did your elders not teach you to respect Our will?”
Twilight’s blood went cold. He can see us.
But why did he not chide us until now? Midnight asked, turning their head about with narrowed eyes. His eyes must not be everywhere.
They gazed around, shining their light on tattered old tapestries and colored mosaics—and the crystal pony standing in silence just a few steps away.
Twilight cocked her head, unsure if he was alive or just a strangely posed corpse, but after a few seconds he mirrored the motion with a twitchy jerk. She jumped, conjuring a small circular shield in front of her and lowering her stance. It wouldn’t take as much punishment and couldn’t cover as much as a proper dome, but it was far less taxing on her limited reserves.
The crystal pony made no effort to close the distance, continuing to quietly watch. His body was marred by grotesque, crystalline growths surrounded by blotchy patches of black fur, and a pair of pitch-black gemstones set into his face where his eyes should be, outlined by a wispy, purple smoke that curled out from behind them and wafted away despite the complete lack of wind.
She cleared her throat. “Stay back! I don’t want to hurt you!”
“Do not fear your fellow servant, Chosen.” The Shaper seemed amused by her surprise. “He is closer to Us than any of his generation, and soon you will stand at his side.”
Twilight shuddered, looking away from the crystal pony’s soulless gemstone eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing to these ponies?”
The Shaper didn’t answer at first, leaving Twilight’s voice to bounce off the walls around her. When he did respond, he did it with a deep, rumbling growl that made her bones vibrate.
“You dare question Us, Chosen?” The shadows pulsed around her, and Twilight’s ears flicked at the sound of scraping crystal from every direction. “Your service is no longer required. We shall peel what We wish from your corpse.”
The darkness closed in, wrapping tight around her like a python and squeezing with enough force to make her flinch in pain. Loud ringing filled her ears as the pain sharpened, joined an instant later by the sound of her pounding heart and strained breath. For a brief moment she felt like she were drowning, her limbs held taut with fleshy cords and ice cold ichor creeping over her muzzle, rushing into her lungs to drag her down into a terrifying, final slumber.
Calm, Twilight. Midnight leaned against her side, replacing the chill with the tingling warmth of her presence. I have you.
Twilight sucked in a deep breath as the pressure on her head abated, and she staggered back to her hooves with a surge of strength. Something sharp sliced across her cheek before shattering against the wall behind her, and a second later she cried out as a second projectile pierced her shoulder. She grit her teeth, calling her magic back to her and pushing the shadows back far enough to reveal a trio of crystal ponies spread out around her, maws open grotesquely wide as they vomited shards of crystal.
Again she used the pain as a focus, firing small bolts of magic to intercept the attacks. The crystal ponies began to close, threatening to overwhelm her, and she risked firing a bolt of energy in retaliation. The nearest pony crumpled with the sound of breaking glass, but her split focus let another shard slip past her defenses, opening a gash across her leg.
Her tail bunched up against the wall behind her as yet another crystal pony joined the assault. There’s too many! I don’t have enough magic to protect myself and fight them at the same time!
Brute force is not our only weapon, Midnight said. Our will is as dangerous as any spell.
Right! Twilight nodded. If they’re corrupted like seaponies, then we should be able to control them, too!
Midnight stepped in front of her, deflecting a shard of crystal with a sweep of her horn. She cast an imperious gaze over their attackers, and something dark and twisted reared up in Twilight’s gut as her lips parted.
“Begone, creatures, and be still!”
The crystal ponies cocked their heads, their attacks coming to a stop. After a moment of silence they wrenched their mouths shut with the sound of scraping bone, but instead of leaving they stood in place, staring blankly at Midnight.
“Pitiful god!” she crowed, spreading her stance. “Even your own thralls recognize our supremacy!”
Twilight froze. Midnight!
What? We’ve defeated him!
That doesn’t mean we want to start another fight!
It doesn’t?
The arcane pressure slackened, but only for a moment. The crystal ponies leaned in as one, like puppets being controlled by a single string. The Shaper’s voice rumbled around her with startling quiet, tinged with curiosity. “You are not Chosen.” A pause. “Why are you here, little pony?”
Twilight’s ears swiveled as she edged past the watching thralls, following the source of his voice. She spoke hesitantly, glancing back as the crystal ponies began to follow her. “I’m looking for something.”
The Shaper’s hum vibrated through the crystal with enough force to make her hooves tingle. “And yet you dominate Our Chosen and violate Our will within Our domain. These are not the actions of a mere seeker.”
“Your will will not keep us from defending ourselves, petty god,” Midnight said with unabashed disdain. “We will walk where we please!”
“You speak with two voices,” the Shaper said, ignoring Midnight’s insulting tone. “It has been a long time since We met a pair such as you.”
Twilight’s pulse quickened. She slowed her pace as the voice led her to an open door, and past it a wide spiral staircase. Crystal blades—both pale blue and murky black—embedded in the walls and obstructed the path, forcing her to carefully squeeze past lest she gut herself on their edges. “How long?”
“Uncounted centuries.” He sounded wistful. Almost regretful. “The years have drifted since she left Us.”
She? Twilight thought.
Perhaps he refers to Cadance, Midnight offered, looking down from a perch atop one of the deadly blades. We are following her trail, are we not?
But it sounds like he misses her. Twilight grunted as she bent down to crawl under a pale blue crystal blade, wincing at the shards that poked at her belly. Cadance would never work with a monster like this.
Wasn’t Cadance adept at crystal magic?
Twilight paused. A moment later she shook her head, standing and dusting herself off. I know what you’re implying, but that wouldn’t make sense. Even if the Shaper was strong enough to defeat Celestia, there’s no way he could beat her and Cadance working together.
No, Midnight admitted. Perhaps not.
Twilight reached the top of the stairs, drawing up short when she saw four more crystal ponies waiting patiently ahead of her. She gave them a wide berth, following the hall before her and ignoring the scraping sounds of their deformed hooves in her wake. She passed huge crystalline formations that shimmered pearly blue or radiated impenetrable darkness, levitated pieces of rubble to use as bridges across deep fissures that heated her coat with their golden glow, and finally came to a stop before a vast doorway. It yawned before her, both massive panels lying in shattered heaps upon the floor.
Beyond the door were yet more waiting thralls and marks of battle, scattered about with the wild abandon of a foal’s discarded toys. The walls peeled away as she walked forwards, ears perked and listening for Shaper’s next words.
When none came, she spoke. “Where are you?”
“Right here, little pony.”
The shadows twisted in on themselves, darkening into tall, bladed spires that glowed a faint red and illuminated the walls of the wide, round chamber she’d entered. Crystal mosaics on the wings depicted images of the Spire seen from the outside, its normally gleaming walls taking on the appearance of burnt flesh in the strange lighting; a sleek heart made of hard edges, one of the smoldering blades placed like a skewer in front of it; a dark-coated unicorn adorned with a silver crown and billowing red cape, the crystal of his eyes catching the dim light like smoldering embers; a stylized snowflake on a royal purple background that appeared ashen grey in the dark. Chunks of the structure had been torn from the roof, floor, and walls, joined by the regal faces of broken statues, and a once-great throne at the back of the room was reduced to scattered rubble, spilling over the dais beneath it.
Dead bodies littered the floor, crystal ponies with limbs turned from flesh and eyes smoldering with dark magics lying still next to equally still thralls that followed her every motion with robotic stiffness. There were a hundred at least, each one lovingly adorned with the last gifts of their families and lovers, each utterly immobile. Some of the bodies were little more than skeletons. Some of the thralls were all but completely encased in crystal.
And in the center of it all, in a space conspicuously clear of the detritus that clogged the rest of the chamber, was a tall, masculine silhouette, hunched over as if in fear. As Twilight stepped closer, the shimmering figure revealed itself not to be another crystal pony, but a unicorn, completely encased in unyielding black crystal, his horn curved back like a wicked blade. Through his murky prison, Twilight found her gaze locked with his; red eyes that peered back at her, unmoving, wide and afraid. A dark purple smoke coiled from the corners of his eyes in lazy spirals, phasing through the crystal encasement before dissipating in an ethereal wind.
“Welcome to Our empire, Equestrian.” The Shaper’s voice thrummed from the frozen stallion, bouncing off the walls and redoubling back on itself. “We had not expected to see another of your kind ever again.”
Leviathan Wakes had fallen silent once more.
It was still the dead of night, and Philomena seemed to have drifted deeper underwater, too deep for her song to reach the surface. The waves washed against the sides of the ship as Jester and her crew assembled on the deck.
Rarity had watched it all with growing unease. The Wakers were rough ponies, hardened by the skybound lives they’d lived before settling on the floating city and hardened again with their lawless existence on the surface of an ocean that, as far as the rest of Equestria was concerned, was eminently lethal. They fastened studded shoes to their hooves, blades to their wings, and sharp caps to their horns. They deployed miniature ballistae and tied rope to the butts of barbed harpoons, coiled weighted nets on their backs, and one mare sat in a corner loading guns with wide, flared barrels, mounting the weapons to her crewmates’ flanks and leaving them standing with trigger strings held in their lips.
All this—ponies preparing to commit violence on others—caused by her presence. Prepared with her blessing.
“You gonna throw up, Countess?” Jester asked, stepping away from a crowd of whispering ponies and sitting beside her. “You’ve been sitting there looking green since we talked.”
Rarity took a deep breath. “I strongly disapprove of violence.”
Jester chuckled, clapping her on the back. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over quick. Chances are those merchants will piss themselves and surrender the instant they realize what’s happening. We’ll be quick, and there won’t be any needless bloodshed.”
Rarity pursed her lips. “And if they don’t?”
Jester let out a thoughtful hum. “Don’t blame yourself for the deaths of fools, eh? If a pony’s too dumb to surrender with a blade to the throat, that’s on them.” She stood with a bemused shake of her head. “Be quick when the ship comes down. This flare is gonna draw attention from below as well as above.”
She walked away, joining a small circle of other Wakers. Rarity sighed, closing her eyes. She’d already made her decision; there was no point in agonizing further.
The clatter of wheels and a bear’s chuff drew Rarity’s attention. She put on a thin smile when she saw her friends approaching.
“This is the right thing, Rarity,” Pinkie said with a meaningful nod. “This is how we save them all.”
“And who will save the ponies on that merchant ship?” Rarity countered dryly.
“We will,” Fluttershy said, and Brownie bobbed his head in agreement beside her. She offered a small, comforting smile. “Just be yourself. The rest will come naturally.”
How strange that I be the one fussing over my decisions while Fluttershy tries to calm me. She couldn’t help but inwardly snicker at the reversal. She was almost certain she’d given the pegasus the exact same advice multiple times in the past, when all they’d had to worry over were sick woodland creatures or unruly customers.
Rarity had only a moment to reflect on it, however. In the corner of her eye she spotted the Wakers clearing the center of the deck as Jester brandished the flare launcher in a hoof, her eyes fixed on the shadow of the airship lingering above. In one smooth motion she brought the launcher down, smacking its base against the deck with a solid thunk.
Rarity flinched away from the sudden burst of light, painfully bright after so long in the dark. When she looked back, the flare was already soaring into the sky, sputtering loudly, a harsh red star that flickered and flared as it climbed ever higher on a trail of pale white sparks. The ship above reacted immediately, its propellers shifting and angling the hull in their direction.
A second later, Philomena’s cry echoed up from beneath them.
A murmur passed over the deck, ponies glancing between themselves with visible unease, the flare casting long, hard shadows across their faces. Something splashed in the water out of sight, hidden by the bulk of the hull. Rarity’s pulse quickened as she joined the Wakers in anxiously watching the ship above float steadily closer. Something thudded against the hull, rocking it ever so slightly. The ponies standing near the edge stepped towards the center, eyeing the railing.
“Steady,” Jester hissed, eyeing their target. The thrum of the engines turned to a roar, and the gentle slosh of the waves grew into frothy churning as the propellers buffeted them, causing the nearest parts of the city to sway side to side.
A light appeared as a pony poked his head over the railing, a lantern held in his hoof. “Countess?”
“Now! Go!”
The twang of drawn strings and taut coils filled the air as a half-dozen harpoons flew true, digging into the ship’s thin metal hull with loud cracks. The Wakers didn’t cry out in victory or roar a challenge; they moved with silence, clambering up the ropes with grunts and huffs of exertions barely audible under the din of the engines. At the same time, the deck beneath them jerked to the side, and Rarity yelped at the sudden vibration of impact that traveled up her hooves, joined by the heart-stopping sound of shattering wood.
Pinkie let out a sharp gasp, shoving Rarity and Fluttershy into motion. “Go! Climb!”
Rarity didn’t need to be told twice. She ran to the nearest harpoon gun, sparing only a brief glance for the stallion winding up its winch before wrapping her hooves tight around it and hauling herself up. It was far harder than climbing a proper ladder or net, and a distant part of her complained about the way the rough material chafed against the frogs of her hooves, but she paid it no heed, driven on by instinct.
A shout of alarm sounded from above as some of the Wakers began to jump from their ropes, landing heavily against the merchant ship’s sides and hauling themselves up by the hanging netting. From below, a cry of panic was met with a guttural roar. Rarity stole a glance down, eyes widening as she saw a creature squirming up out of a hole torn in the deck. It lunged for a stallion running for a rope, only to draw up short with a strangely comical squawk as Pinkie ran behind it with a giggle, crushing its tail under her wheels.
Rarity couldn’t watch. She trusted Pinkie to keep herself safe, and so she decided to focus on the same for now. She clenched her jaw and climbed higher.
The first Wakers hauled themselves onto the merchant ship’s deck with loud, angry shouts, followed by a booming gunshot that made Rarity flinch. She steeled herself and pushed, forcing herself over the railing with a slight wheeze before finally rolling onto the deck.
One mare marched up and down the deck barking commands, smoke curling from the gun at her side, but to Rarity’s relief it seemed nobody had been shot. The few members of the merchant crew on the deck were already cowering, stealing frightened glances around as they were herded towards the bow. A group of Wakers kicked down the door to the lower decks and stormed through, the dulled sound of their threats traveling around the ship beneath her, and soon more crew members were shoved up from below-deck and brought to join their comrades.
Rarity stood to one side, reluctant to get in the way, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Whitehorn brought up onto the deck, his muzzle set into a grimace as he was pointed towards the growing group of hostages. His gaze met Rarity’s and went wide; she offered a sheepish smile.
It was all over startlingly fast. Within a minute the merchant crew had been rounded up and placed under careful watch towards the bow of the ship, a pair of Wakers already well through the process of tying them up. Fluttershy was seated next to one merchant pony nursing a bleeding face, but Rarity’s blood went cold as she scanned the deck and realized that Pinkie was nowhere to be seen.
There was a scrabbling of hooves against metal, and a pair of exhausted Wakers pulled themselves over the railing, bruised but wearing shaky, manic grins. Full seconds later, Pinkie followed, a small, content smile on her face, and collapsed on the deck.
“Pinkie!” Rarity rushed up to her friend’s side, grimacing as she realized that one of her wheels was little more than a shattered piece of spinning scrap. “Are you okay, darling?”
“I’m great, Rarity,” Pinkie said with a tired giggle. She reached up with a hoof and booped it against Rarity’s nose. “Just had to—phew—make sure we got everybody.”
“Cut the ropes!” Jester’s voice rang out over the ship, ponies already rushing to comply. “Let’s get some distance before the deepfish learn to fly!” She nodded approvingly before making for Rarity, lowering her voice to say a few words in passing. “Countess, the Captain’s asking for you.” She smirked, already moving past and barking new orders.
Rarity sighed, turning back to Pinkie. “Are you sure? Do you need anything?”
“Nope!” Pinkie grinned back up at her. “I’m just gonna lie here for a bit.”
Rarity nodded, reluctantly stepping away from her friend. As concerned as she was, she didn’t want to interfere with Pinkie’s mood. It was so rare to see her smile like that anymore.
She dodged around the commotion on the deck, making for the bow. It was easy enough to spot the Captain—she was in the front row, leaned against a railing, her cape torn and her eyes narrowed in a hateful glare. Beside her, Whitehorn sat with an oddly calm expression, more curious than anything else.
“Captain.” Rarity dipped her head. “You asked for me?”
“Countess.” The Captain drew her head back and spat at Rarity’s hooves. “Care to tell me which pit in Tartarus you crawled out of, or will I have to ask myself once I arrive later today?”
Rarity grimaced. “I understand you’re upset with me, but—”
“But nothing, mare!” the Captain snapped. “First you blackmail me into docking with a dead city, leaving your lackey behind to watch me like some unruly foal, and then when I come back down to fetch you you’ve gone and recruited a bunch of Celestia-damned pirates to steal my ship!”
Rarity couldn’t help but shy away from the accusations. Every word was true, and although she’d known going into this that what she was doing was wrong, it was different having to face the mare she’d made a victim and hear it all spelled out. “And I’m sorry for that, really, but—”
“Sorry?!” The Captain let out a sharp laugh. “Ha! Some pirate you are! Don’t have the stones to look a mare in the eye after you steal her ship from under her hooves?”
Rarity inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. I deserve this. Still, she couldn’t keep some of the edge out of her voice. “Did you have anything you actually wished to speak about, darling, or did you just want to yell at me?”
“Don’t you darling me you pompous whore! You’re just a treacherous blowhard, not a—hrk!”
Rarity flinched as an ironshod hoof smacked into the side of the Captain’s head, knocking her out cold. Her eyes followed the offending hoof to Jester, who just rolled her eyes before walking off and tossing a few playful words over her shoulder. “She’s right, y’know. No stones at all.”
“Oh, goodness.” Rarity looked to Whitehorn, who was still eyeing her with that same appraising expression. “I imagine you must think terribly of me.”
He cocked his head, tone strangely conversational. “Perhaps you could explain your motives?”
“Yes, of course.” Rarity sat down, straightening up and bracing herself for the worst. “It’s all quite involved, really, but the core of it is that we need an airship to save the city, and the plan is somewhat touch-and-go. I was concerned that the good Captain would be so reluctant as to risk her vessel directly after all the effort it took just to get her here, and so—”
“So you decided to hijack it instead,” Whitehorn finished. He nodded, pulling the corners of his lips up into a wry smile. “Very bold, Countess.”
“You—aren’t you upset?” Rarity hesitated, wondering for a moment if he’d misheard her. “Whitehorn, I’ve played a key part in the theft of an innocent mare’s ship!”
His smile widened into an earnest grin. “But you did it for a good cause, no?”
“Well, yes, but—” Rarity stomped a hoof, her confusion shifting to frustration. “You should be mad at me! Livid! What I’ve done, I—I’ve just—”
“You’re just doing what you think is right for everyone.” Whitehorn nodded, closing his eyes with a bemused shake of his head. “What was it Pinkie kept saying? ‘Everyone, this time?’” He opened his eyes, gazing into hers with a quiet confidence that sent a chill down her spine. “There’s no shame in this, Rarity. You should take pride in it, even. Ponies like us—those who so yearn to help their fellow Equestrian, and yet can bear the pain of hurting one to aid the many—are vanishingly rare today. And we’re needed now more than ever.”
Rarity felt like she should look away, but found herself held in place by the intensity of his gaze. “You’re not upset?”
“No! Celestia, no, Rarity.” He actually laughed, and it occurred to Rarity that she’d never heard him make such a sincere sound since they’d met. “I’m proud of you! I know it was hard, but I know you made the right decision. And I’m here for you, just as you’ve always been for me. Together, we can change Equestria for the better. We will change it for the better.”
“Oh. Well, ah.” Rarity wasn’t sure how to respond. That look in his eye—he should be upset. She wanted him to be upset. He was supposed to be a noble pony like herself, striving to protect each and every victim from the cruelties that had become commonplace in Equestria. She had made her terrible decision to save Leviathan Wakes, tempered her reluctance with an icy determination to do what must be done. She wanted to be shouted at, to be chided and lectured and fixed with disappointed glares. She wanted to be told that though her decision could be understood, she should never do such a thing again.
“I—I’ll see about getting you untied.” She stood up abruptly, spinning on her hooves and trotting away.
She’d grown to trust Whitehorn like a lighthouse guiding her through the murky fogs of the new age. Yet now she saw cliffs approaching, hard and merciless, and he told her to keep going.
Somehow that was more frightening than being alone in the dark.
The room was silent; the air was thick with unspoken questions.
Twilight’s mind raced as she stood before the stallion frozen in crystal. She had come here seeking answers, and yet every step deeper into the Spire reminded of her of just how dangerous the Shaper really was. Her eyes wandered, lingering on one of the partially crystallized corpses scattered around the floor.
And she thought of Princess Luna, sound asleep at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by bodies in a very similar chamber.
“All these ponies,” she breathed. “You lie to them. They come down here thinking they get to serve their creator, and you kill them.”
“You would do well to watch what you imply, Equestrian.” The Shaper’s deep voice made the very air buzz in Twilight’s ears. “Do you see marks of violence? Our Chosen serve Us to the end, as they are wont, but We do not bring undue harm upon them! They fade with smiles on their lips, honored to take their final rest by Our side, and on the day of Our reemergence their names shall be sung by their descendants, as We carry each one in Our mind.”
Reemergence?
He is trapped here, then, Midnight mused. But by whom, and for what cause?
Celestia must have done it. Twilight pursed her lips, subtly probing out with her arcane senses and checking for hidden traps or curses. This must be the creature that destroyed the world!
Perhaps. But surely if the floods were cast by his horn, he would have stopped them before they reached his own lands?
Twilight’s thoughts stumbled to a halt. She had no response.
Midnight’s voice echoed off the walls, imperious and haughty. “The ponies above claim you to be a god, and yet you do little more than play puppet with crystal and corpses. Who are you, truly?”
The shadows darkened, swallowing up the dull light of the crystal blades around the room and leaving only the dim glow of Shaper’s smoldering red eyes. She stiffened, expecting anger, but his response instead came laced with pride.
“We are Shaper! We gathered the disparate tribes of the Frozen North and carved them into a Crystal Empire! We pierced the veil of magics hidden in the darkest corners of the deepest caves and created artefacts to rival the might of alicorns! We bend flesh and soul to Our will as a master smith bends the hardest steel!” As he spoke, the shadows twisted around her, bright flashes of color briefly outlining dark silhouettes. Twilight saw a great tower in a wide valley between mountains, a twelve-edged heart suspended between two narrow columns, and a crowned stallion with a curved horn, cape billowing out behind him. “We are more worthy of the title of god than your petty Princesses, Equestrian, for We were not granted power by birth, but by the blood of Our body and the cut of Our mind!”
He kept going, his voice lowering into a bitter growl as the shadows slithered back towards the walls once more. “You speak to Us now as a shadow of Our power, but Our return is inevitable. We have clashed with your Princesses twice before, but their victories are ephemeral distractions in the unending story of Our Crystal Empire. And when We return next, there will be no divinities to stop Us, for even an alicorn mind cannot resist Our magic.”
Her ears perked up at his last words. She looked down, breathing out a quiet, trembling accusation. “So you admit it?”
“Speak clearly, Equestrian,” Shaper rumbled. “What is there for Us to admit?”
“That you’re the one behind all this pain? All this suffering? That you’re the one who destroyed Equestria, who flooded my home?” Her voice grew stronger as hot anger stirred in her breast, overcoming her caution. She called on her magic, clinging to the pain caused by the Spire’s arcane resistance and throwing it into the hungry fire of her fury, spurring it on.
“You’re the one that caused all this! Who killed my family! Who twisted my body!” Bloody tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, tracing the dark red stains left in her fur. The air began to hum with magic, the light of her horn driving the shadows back like a predator fleeing from flame. Finally Twilight looked up and fixed Shaper’s frozen form with a sharp glare, throwing her words at him like weapons. “I’m ending it! I may not have been here when Equestria needed me most, but I’m here now, and we’re going to kill you!”
She screamed as she unleashed her power in a lance of brilliant light that made stars pop in her eyes and the crystal shudder in sympathy underhoof, the blast cutting through the air with a shriek as if it, too, mourned for what was lost. The pain at the base of her horn grew sharper still, but it was nothing compared to the agony twisting her heart, and she embraced both sensations, pushing them too into the attack. Finally her enemy was before her, goading and proud, and in that moment all the doubts that had plagued her past actions melted away, replaced by a singular burning certainty—this was the monster that had destroyed her world, and she would end it before it hurt anyone else.
Finally her magic faded, her voice hoarse and her head pounding. The shriek of her spell echoed into the distance, replaced by a loud, discordant chime. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, wiping her tears away.
Where she’d hoped to see a stallion crumbled to rubble there was instead a solid block of inky black crystal, vibrating hard enough the very shadows around it seemed to buzz. The shaking grew stronger, and then with an ear-splitting snap the crystal shattered. Twilight erected a flat shield with a hiss of pain, the flying shards slamming against it hard enough to make her wince.
The Shaper stood untouched in the center of the room, ethereal smoke pouring thick through the crystal shell around his frozen eyes.
“Fool!” His voice boomed, driving her a step back. “We are not a destroyer, but a builder, a Shaper! If you wish to exact vengeance for your suffering, then stand by Our side, for we share a common enemy!”
“Hah!” Twilight spat, chest heaving as she called on more magic. She felt out with her magic, lifting the pieces of the broken statues scattered unseen against the walls, body trembling with exertion. “And who might that be?”
“Your Equestrian Princess, Celestia.”
Twilight’s anger faltered, but only a moment. She cried out as she hurled the rubble across the room. Marble legs, heads, horns, and wings that had rested dormant for centuries crumbled to dust as spikes of dark crystal darted out from the shadows, filling the air with glittering shrapnel. “You’re lying! Why should I believe you?!”
“What cause have We to lie, whelp?” Shaper countered, shouting her down with enough thunder to make her bones shudder. “We are king! We are Shaper! It was Celestia who sent her agents into Our empire to attempt to usurp Our throne, and it was Celestia who came alone from her dying nation, mind befuddled by magic she could never understand, and sought to destroy Us for sins We did not commit! It was Celestia who tore my creation apart with the power of the sun! It was Celestia who cast the spell that flooded the world!”
“No!”
The shadows shivered and danced, squeezing against her little circle of light as images and sounds flashed unbidden through Twilight’s mind. She saw crystal ponies wearing silks and gold running through streets paved with gemstones, overrun by shrieking beams of angry sunlight that left only ashes behind. A hall within the Spire trembling as its walls exploded with hot energy, scattered pieces falling to the polished floors in the wake of an alicorn that glowed with blinding light. Three colored gems—red, blue, and green—cracked, shuddered, and broke, and dark clouds gathered on the horizon.
“It’s impossible! S-she wouldn’t!”
All that pain and death—millions of ponies swept away by raging waters, smashed to pieces against their own homes, starved in what few shelters weren’t crushed by the waves—Celestia wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that. She thought of Stalliongrad—dead limbs picked clean of flesh swaying from the windows of the high-rises like macabre flowers—Canterlot—old homes and businesses once vibrant with color and life, buried under heaps of rubble and haunted only by bloodthirsty, mutated changelings—and Ponyville—skulls popping underhoof, almost every building washed away but for her own home, where a team of researchers had watched the world drown around them.
Everywhere she’d been, Twilight saw the lingering shadow of suffering. She had imagined it all to be caused by some great evil, by some villain that she and her friends could’ve defeated if only she’d been there. To think that Celestia herself could’ve caused it, the mare who had been like a mother to her and every other Equestrian—
Steady, little flower! Midnight hissed in the back of her mind, and the terrible images faded away. Confidence filtered through their mental connection, steeling Twilight’s mind, and she looked up to see Midnight standing over her, pushing the darkness back with her horn’s glow. Do not give in to lies so easily! Hold onto your faith; we cannot defeat this enemy within his lair, but we will need it later when we confront him once more.
Twilight nodded, staggering back to her hooves. She fixed Shaper with a teary glare, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“So Our word is not sufficient. To be expected for one of Celestia’s faithful.” Shaper spoke slowly, his voice dripping disdain. “If you will not accept Our truth, there is little proof We can offer, but perhaps you can find another truth elsewhere.”
Twilight set her lips into a thin frown. She was exhausted, her fury having burnt down leaving only embers behind. She knew what waited for her in the Spire now, but she needed to retreat and reassess the situation. For now, though, she would keep him talking. “What do you mean?”
“You are not the first Equestrian to walk these halls. Another came before you, also a follower of Celestia, though she did not have the luxury of ignoring truth when it confronted her. She is here no longer, but she has left something of herself behind, locked within Our own castle by magic We cannot bypass.” His voice grew bitter as he spoke. “We can guide you to her secrets, and perhaps you will fare better. Though you may find it difficult to reject truths offered by one of your own.”
Twilight hesitated, considering the offer. “That sounds like a trap.”
“A trap?” Shaper laughed with open disdain. The shadows flickered around her, and Twilight stiffened as she caught a glimpse of a wall of disfigured crystal ponies surrounding her, thin tendrils of dark smoke curling from their gemstone eyes. “If We have set any trap, Equestrian, then surely you have already sprung it.”
He’s bluffing. Midnight appeared beside her, lips curled back in scorn. Even if we cannot harm him, we have proven we can defend ourselves.
Right. We can humor him. She offered a tired, sideways smile. If it’s a trap, we can handle it together.
“Fine,” she said out loud. “Show us.”
The shadows danced around the room, drawing in close before forming a narrow path back the way she’d come. Shaper said nothing, but he didn’t have to. Twilight turned and followed the path with a weary sigh.
She couldn’t see the walls like this, but the crystalline shards and glowing holes helped her stay oriented. The path took her back down the hall towards the circular stairs, but turned to one side instead of descending. The scraping of crystal around her hinted at the possessed Chosen watching in silence, but she didn’t challenge them.
Her hooves moved on autopilot, her mind focused instead on comparing what she’d learned with what she knew. Based on the crystal ponies’ legend she knew that Celestia had come here, fought Shaper, and the floods happened right before she left. It was possible that the legend was based on lies and it had almost certainly been twisted by the passage of time, but she felt it likely that those three parts, at least, were fact. No matter what Shaper may have told them, the crystal ponies ancestors had lived through the event themselves.
Something had happened between Shaper and Celestia that caused the flooding of the world. She couldn't believe that Celestia would do it on purpose, and Shaper was adamant it hadn't been him. But he had to be lying.
Is he?
What? Twilight paused, brow furrowing. Of course he’s lying. It must have been one of them.
This castle is ancient. You saw the stained glass; this place is as old, if not older, than Canterlot itself. Who knows what powerful magics or artefacts lay dormant within these walls? Midnight paused, thinking. Maybe it was an accident?
The thought left Twilight frozen. What if that was it? What if, in her effort to stop Shaper, Celestia had destroyed a powerful relic, or cast some spell or curse that went haywire, and accidentally caused the end of the world?
Or a different answer, Midnight continued. Perhaps Shaper tried to do something worse, something even more destructive, and Celestia flooded the world to save it? Again she paused, letting her words sink in. We are working with little information, Twilight. We cannot afford speculation over this matter.
Twilight nodded slowly. The idea that Celestia would ever do something so awful felt wrong, but acts of necessity were something Twilight had become very familiar with. How would her old self feel upon hearing all the things she'd done?
Disgusted. Repulsed. Perhaps violent. But Twilight knew she'd made the right decisions, even when the right decision was only a matter of choosing the lesser of possible evils.
The shadowed path came to an abrupt stop, turning sharply to one side and ending in a sturdy door of plain crystal. Twilight walked up and tried the knob with her magic, wincing as she received a jolt of arcane feedback as a reward. It was sealed closed, as Shaper told her.
Enchanted locks were problematic. Like any persistent magic without a caster to defend it, destroying the spell could be easily achieved via the application of force. Thus a well-made magic lock was designed not to be indestructible, but to ensure whatever it protected would remain so if unwanted visitors tried to tamper with it. A cursory inspection confirmed her theory; dispelling the lock would likely fuse the door into the wall, keeping the room’s contents secure.
Twilight cocked her head. Shaper couldn’t get past this? She’d been bypassing locked doors ever since she’d learned that libraries had a forbidden section, much to the chagrin of her caretakers. It hadn’t taken long for Celestia to give her a pass permitting her access to the entirety of the Royal Archives, which had saved her a great deal of physical strain as a filly.
A sad smile came over her as she lingered on the memories, but only for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drawing on her magic. The Spire’s resistance made it difficult, of course, but there was no spell she was more adept with than teleportation, and she had only a short distance to go. She focused on her breathing, brow furrowing as a pulsing pain formed at the back of her skull. Midnight lent silent aid as well, tinting their magic with a ruddy hue.
The spell snapped into shape. All at once Twilight’s shield fizzled out, and bright lavender light flared around her. There was the familiar crackle of magic, and when she opened her eyes, she was through.
She poured power into her horn, brightening its glow until, to her surprise, it reached all four corners of the room. It was relatively small, though with a high vaulted ceiling that her light still couldn’t reach. Crystal tables weighed down with empty flasks occupied the center, and a chalkboard set into one wall was covered with a hazy smattering of chalk that might have once been busy lines of equations. The opposite wall was taken up by dozens of little box-shaped drawers, though the labels had long since faded.
At the very center of the room, right before the door, the flasks had been set aside to leave a space conspicuously clear. A cylindrical glass vessel in the middle contained a thin sliver of pale blue crystal, casting soft light over a notebook and three small crystal chests, each just too big to comfortably fit into a hoof.
It’s a lab. A tentative smile flickered on Twilight’s face as she stepped forwards. Someone was doing research here.
And an Equestrian, if Shaper is to be trusted. Midnight narrowed her eyes. A very well-organized Equestrian.
Twilight reached out and pulled the little chests closer. She immediately staggered back as she opened the first, briefly overwhelmed by the unexpected surge of magic energy inside, but recovered quickly. Peering inside, she saw mismatched shards of deep blue crystal, each individual piece glittering like the ocean on a starry night.
She was ready when she opened the next chest, and so was less surprised when it radiated just as much power as the first. This one also held shattered crystal, though the pieces were a verdant green that seemed to writhe with life everytime she moved her head.
The last chest was odd in that the broken crystal inside appeared more angular, with no round edges. It was an angry red, gently pulsing like a beating heart.
Powerful artefacts, even broken. Midnight said. Perhaps these are the creations Shaper boasted of?
Maybe. But why would they be locked away in here if he’s the one that made them?
Finally her attention fell on the notebook. She pulled it closer, a burst of excitement flaring in her breast when she felt the preservation magics wrapped around the pages. Whoever had left this here had expected it to be left alone for a long time, and put great effort into ensuring that its contents would be legible once it was found.
Twilight opened the cover with bated breath. Her eyes took in the words on the first page, written in a playful but precise script that made her heart race with recognition.
“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake...”