Dawn took far too long to come, but the memories of sacrifice eventually faded. I even managed to drift to sleep for a short time and awoke with the faint memory of golden sunlight before I felt it on my face. I found Spike's bed empty and dragged myself downstairs.
He had prepared a breakfast of toast, coffee, sliced apples and pears, bananas, and roasted oats. It was rejuvenating, and the horrors and strangeness of the night before faded with each bite, except for the pink mare and the letter. I fetched the latter from the library and looked over the list. “We have a week to prepare, Spike,” I said, “but we shouldn't delay. Perhaps starting from the top will be easiest.”
He hummed an affirmative with his mouth full of fruit. Once breakfast was finished, I had him pack a saddlebag with ink, quill, parchment, and a map of the town proper we'd located while securing the other supplies. I donned a formal coat, pinned my royal insignia to its collar, and made my way outside with Spike at my side.
The rain had finally given up overnight and while some darker clouds still filled the sky, the sun was doing its best to dry the muddy roads. I took an extra minute to put on a pair of boots and had Spike pack an umbrella before we made our way through town.
In the light of day, the town was much more quaint and welcoming than the dirty, dour appearance it had on our arrival. Townsponies, out and about on their daily routines, all had a smile and greeted one another happily. Thankfully, they kept their distance, for at the time I had worried that the pink mare would be a commonality. They didn't seem to speak in such a cryptic manner, however.
I did happen to spot her again from afar. A flash of pink at the edge of my vision drew my attention to a local pastry shop: Sugarcube Corner according to the sign. She was busy unloading boxes from a cart, and I saw her lips moving as she did. Her mane and tail, rather than the heavy, straight style forced by the rain last night, was much… poofier. Cotton candy came to mind. The stallion pulling the cart didn't seem to mind what she was saying, if it was anything of substance. I assumed it was out of politeness on his part.
Soon enough we had left the town proper, walking along a wide stretch of road leading off in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres. Here, the remaining cloud cover was less dense and the muddy ground had dried more substantially. Eventually, a fence lined the right side of the road, beyond which I could see groves of fruit trees. Only a sparse number of them were bearing, and I saw ponies working in the distance.
On the left, just beyond a gentle hill, I saw the dark edge of the Everlorn Forest; brambles and dense canopy hid its interior from sight and not a single ray of sunshine illuminated more than its grim facade. The further down the road I came, the closer the Everlorn encroached upon what little civilization there was. I imagined, step after step, that the roots and branches were crawling their way towards me.
Thankfully, the road turned to the north and away from the dark woods. A second fence sprouted up on the once bare side of the road, fruitful apple trees stretching out into the rolling hills. Ahead, an archway held the bright red image of an apple, beyond which I could make out a large barn and farmhouse. More ponies were moving about, carrying fresh fruit in baskets and carts towards the barn or mingling with their fellow workers. However, there was one mare acting with more purpose.
Her orange coat and golden blonde mane made her stick out from afar, and she had a simple brown hat perched atop her head. On her flank was a trio of apples a brighter red than I thought physically possible, always gleaming despite not reflecting the early morning light. As I passed the archway and headed towards her, I could hear her clearly: a distinctive country twang barking orders.
“Alright y’all, the northwest orchard's done. Get that harvest inside and then start workin' on the southwest. Dawn, get out to the east and find out what is takin' so long. We don't got that long to get this fruit into town to help with the feast. The sooner they aren't twiddlin' their hooves, the better.”
As she swept the crowd for someone else that needed instruction, her gaze fell on me. There was a pause in her motion, making it clear—at least to me—that she saw the royal crest I wore. She looked to her side, whispering something to a burly red stallion with an orange mane and a green apple half on his flank. He nodded in return, and she told the others to get back to work with a stomp of her hooves.
Trotting over to us, I caught a faint grimace on her face, but it faded into a smile by the time she spoke to me. “Howdy. Mayor said you'd be by, but I assumed it was gonna be a bit later. Truth be told, we haven't had the time to finish the harvest thanks partly to the weather.” She shot a glance to the clouds covering the town. When she reached me, she held out her hoof while lifting her hat up enough to not obscure her face. “Name's Applejack. Y'all probably already knew that though.”
I held out my hoof to shake hers, but when I did she grabbed it with both of her forehooves, rattling me a fair bit as she moved them up and down. Thankfully, she let go after a few seconds. Taking time to collect myself, I stammered out a reply, “T-Twilight Sparkle. Here on Her Majesty's service.”
“Wouldn't be here otherwise, right?” she said with a chuckle before looking at Spike. “What about you, feller?”
“Spike!" he shouted, shaking Applejack's hoof more vigorously than I had mustered.
"Quite a grip ya got there, Spike. Nice to meetcha both." Once Spike had let go, she took a step back and waved a hoof towards the farmhouse and barn. "Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres: home of the best apples in all of Equestria."
"Thank you for the warm welcome," I said, returning her facade of a smile with my own. "Mayor Mare's letter said you were in charge of the feast, is that wholly accurate?" The idea of the entire feast consisting of nothing but apples and their byproducts was at the fringe of my thoughts. It would have been a curiosity to be sure.
“Aw shucks, not all of it,” she said with a dismissive wave. “We handle a fair chunk, but there's some restaurants in town that help out too. Sugarcube Corner, Hayside Cafe, Marmalade's Diner. And we do happen to provide a bit more than just apples to ‘em. O' course we Apples do our fair share, aside from providin’ the produce and whatnot.” She began to walk towards the farmhouse, so Spike and I followed.
“Let me introduce you to some o' my kin. With it bein' such a big event, we've practically got the whole Apple Family visitin'.” We neared the farmhouse, and next to the barn I saw a trio of stallions working on loading apples into some carts: the burly red one Applejack had whispered to earlier, another with a golden coat and hair, and a third with amber coat and dark grey mane. “This here's my brother Big McIntosh, cousins Braeburn and Golden Delicious.” Each of them gave a nod before returning to their work.
As we entered the farmhouse, a cacophony of activity broke the calm sounds of farm work outside. The house was packed with ponies young and old. Some were simply mingling, while others in the kitchen and just outside of it were hard at work making treats of all sorts. Lining window sills and sat on tables were a myriad of desserts and apple faire that matched the names of some of the ponies making them. Applejack introduced me to each in kind; they were mostly cousins.
Apple Fritter, Apple Brioche, Caramel Apple, Apple Pie, Gala, Jonagold, Granny Smith (her grandmother), Apple Cider, Apple Crisp, Honeycrisp, Buttercup (her mother), Apple Crumble, Applesauce, Apple Bloom (her younger sister)… the names continued on and on. I did my best to be polite, including when Applejack and her family decided to start offering samples of the food that would be at the celebration.
“Don't want you leavin’ without even havin’ a taste,” she'd said with enthusiasm. Several of the older mares remarked on how I looked like I was skin and bones. Spike was more than eager to give his assistance as well, though I did partake in my fair share. I didn't want The Princess's celebration to have inadequate food, after all. It was delicious.
By the time we'd moved out of the farmhouse, I felt stuffed and asked Applejack for a place to sit as we discussed the particulars of the preparations. She suggested the ground. Thankfully, it had dried, and so I sat. Spike produced a quill, ink, and parchment from my bags.
“Will the restaurants in town have any trouble producing the necessary food?” I asked.
“Assumin' we get everything they asked for to 'em today, not at all,” Applejack said, lifting her hat for a moment to wipe her brow. “Everypony does their best when the Solstice comes around. Chance to show off and whatnot. Though they’re usually in less of a rush.”
“Are you producing more than Ponyville has in the past? It was selected as the official festival for this year, so I'm certain you'll have a lot of visitors.”
“Well, the Mayor did some calculatin' based on a whole bunch of metrics I ain't exactly privy to. I know we're pumpin' out a lot more apple treats at the least, so I assume she's got the extra need in mind. As for the visitors, I heard the only two hotels in town are full up and a lot of folks have family staying with ‘em, though not quite as much as we do.”
“I'll make sure to check in with the establishments you mentioned to see if they need any wheels greased. If there's some sort of shortage, I assure that Her Majesty won't let it go unaddressed.”
Applejack hummed in agreement as she looked out over an orchard to the east. After a few moments she asked, “How about your family, Twilight? If you don't mind my askin'.”
Spike was knowledgeable enough to cease writing as the topic drifted from our duty. “Well, I certainly don't have get-togethers like this. I rarely even see relatives other than my grandparents on occasion.” I often found just enough information was for the best in these situations. No reason to bore or worry others with the details of a mare they might never see again.
Applejack was not fit to take that in lieu of further prying. “Any siblings?” She turned from the orchard and towards me. The look in her eyes, wide and expectant, seemed genuine, making the smile she wore appear less forced.
“One, yes. My brother: Shining Armor.” The name had slipped out without my thinking.
“I'm blessed to have mine. More thankful too that we have family to help out here, even if laborers are just as helpful. One of the biggest orchards in the Apple family, though I wish it were elsewhere.” Her eyes drifted ever slightly, glancing past me to the Everlorn. “What does your brother do? If he’s in Canterlot, must be some highfalutin nobl—Err, no offense, sorry.” She laughed, and I could see the manufactured decorum start to return.
“It's fine. My family aren't nobles, even if we are well off due to my station. My brother is in Her Majesty's military, a Lieutenant deployed in Tall Tale. Things have calmed down there, but a letter…” I realized how quickly I had fallen into speaking truthfully with this mare and composed myself. “He may be moving elsewhere. He didn't say where.” He had: Abyssinia. I knew before his letter, when The Princess wrote of rumblings from followers of The Pharaoh of Black Suns. Gods and mortals of foreign lands needed to be… controlled when they threatened harm to Harmony.
I never remarked, nor dwelled, on how Abyssinia was a continent and an ocean away: an ocean controlled by an ally.
Applejack put her hoof on my shoulder, I fought the urge to pull away. “Well, I hope he'll have a chance to come home soon, and…” As she trailed off, she looked down and cleared her throat. “And he’ll be safe too. Couple of my kin are away from Equestria. Doesn't feel the same, not having them here and all.”
I looked at Spike; he was feigning disinterest, but I could tell he felt the same as Applejack. Even if my parents weren’t receptive of him, Shining Armor was. “Yes, certainly. Oh—” I looked back at Applejack “—I did have a few questions unrelated to the Celebration. If you can answer them, I mean.”
Applejack pulled her hoof away, looking back out over the orchard and then up at the sky. Despite looking away from me, I saw her chewing her lip for a moment. “I suppose I got a bit of time.”
I pulled another parchment from my saddlebags and passed it to Spike. He diligently scribbled away once more. “I had some trouble sleeping last night, due to my late arrival and other circumstances. I happened to read a bit about Ponyville, though. Is it true your family is responsible for its founding?”
Applejack rubbed the back of her neck, laughing. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Services to the crown,’ Granny Smith says. The Apple family helped out with food and bodies at the time, so in return we got one of the most fertile plots of land. Truly blessed to have it, mostly.” Her gaze drifted to the Everlorn once more, and I followed it.
From a distance, I could see the illuminated tops of the trees, but I could also see a… miasma, like heat radiating off from it. I assured myself it was a trick of the light or one of the many clouds drifting out from over it, dark and stormy. “You said that you wished it could be elsewhere. Does being so close to the Everlorn cause issues?” I asked, her words drifting back into focus.
I heard her sigh, and looked back to see that she’d taken off her hat completely, setting it on the ground beside her. Staring down at her hooves, she ground one into the soft soil. “I know it isn’t my place to deny what we have, but even after generations of Apples have beaten that place back, it still keeps coming. And so do we.
“Farm always has to produce a little bit more each year. Demand is always growin’ and all that. Means more workers, more acres, more woods to clear out. And that means…” She took slow breaths, closing her eyes.
I don’t know what compelled me to say what at the time I knew could be taken as a dismissive slight. “I’ve studied it. The forest and the creatures there.” I slowly lifted a hoof, though it came down rather roughly on her shoulder. “I know how they can be.”
She didn’t look up and for a few moments I assumed it had been taken the wrong way; then she laughed. It was a light, flighty giggle at first, but grew into a near breathless series of snorts as she pushed my hoof away. When she regained her composure, she wiped her eyes and looked at me. “Sorry, I… No, I getcha. It ain’t what’s in there that’s the problem though. Not always at least.
“Long before you catch sight of bush or bramble, that place is growing, reaching out through the ground, the soil. Probably why the land was so fertile to start with. Doesn’t affect the fruit though, thankfully.” She looked to a road that led into a nearby orchard, where a pony was pulling a cart filled with bushels of apples. “Can’t say the same for ponies. Never hurt me or mine, at least the ones that grew up here. Can’t say the same for all those we hire.”
I ushered for Spike to keep writing when I heard his quill stop. “What kind of side effects? Insomnia? Night terrors? Dementia? Visions? Muta—” I stopped as she looked at me, her eyes narrowing. “Apologies. Sometimes the researcher in me doesn’t practice tact. It’s not…” Respected, I thought. “... expected, in my circles.”
She sighed, hoof digging a line in the dirt. “Mostly the nightmares. Nothing physical I ever saw, but I ain’t gonna subject another pony to more of this than they can take. Ma and Pa kept me out of the orchard till I was at least a teen, same with Big Mac; we do the same for Apple Bloom. Never hurts to be careful. Lost a fair share of laborers who thought they could tough it out. Haven’t seen ‘em since they were… carted off.”
That I certainly knew plenty about. Sanitariums are common in cities and even in smaller towns. Being around Them, Their creations, Their followers was not always safe, especially for those that did not practice in the arts of scholars. Even then, an overzealous attitude had claimed many promising minds.
I made a mental note at the time for a potential research opportunity. All of the scholarly information on the Everlorn Forest was spent on its flora and fauna, but this would make for a compelling paper if compiled, categorized, and properly funded. I sensed that I would get no better information from Applejack herself, other than perhaps a first-hand account of the fallout of a bout of madness. Given her reaction to even bringing up its effects, I decided not to pursue it further.
I moved the topic to one last subject that piqued my curiosity the past night and that morning. “I know I said my questions were unrelated to the Celebration, but can you tell me much about the sacrifices? A lot of books and records in the library dealt with the festivities for the Summer Solstice Celebration, but I couldn’t find a shred of information about the sacrifice. There wasn’t any mention in the mayor’s letter either, but I’m certain there must be one. I’m particularly curious about the form, as it could affect my efforts.”
Applejack reached down and grabbed her hat. After brushing the dirt off it, she stood up and placed it on her head. Her tone was dour and she turned back towards the farmhouse. “Y’all can ask the mayor about it, or somepony like Rarity. That tuftchaser probably has her hooves in it. Most of us prefer to remember the better things.” Stopping, she held a hoof out towards me. I rose and shook it; she was much less vigorous.
“Let me know if anything ain’t workin’ out from our end. I’ll make sure the wheels get uhhh, greased.” With that, she let go of my hoof, ruffled the spines on Spike’s head, and walked back into the farmhouse.
I had Spike pack up our notes and we walked back to town. It didn’t take long after we passed the white arches of Sweet Apple Acres for him to speak up. “So... what do you think that was about?”
I dwelled on my own memories, the things I likely shared with this simple farmer, before pushing them away. “Something I’m sure she has reasons for, Spike. Regardless, it’s good that, in addition to handling our duties, I had some information on the town’s founding verified while also learning of research about the Everlorn to consider. I’m sure Moondancer would be quite interested in it when we return to Canterlot.” I tugged on the piece of parchment related to our tasks in his claw, just enough to unfurl it.
“We also have other things to attend to in town, so let’s keep our focus there for the moment.” Spike wouldn’t heed my advice; I heard his claws crumple the parchment as they squeezed together, barely covering the whimper building in his throat.
“Is Shining Armor… okay?” His expression was forlorn, tail dragging through the dirt as he walked, and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Stopping, I leaned down to cup his chin with a hoof, bringing his eyes up to mine. I offered a sympathetic smile.
“He wrote just a month ago, Spike. He’s still somewhere safe. I promise.” All of it was true then.
It lightened his spirits enough to focus on work and we resumed our walk to town. One after another we checked in at the different establishments Applejack had mentioned, as well as a few that only came up in conversation with the restaurant owners. Mostly, it was smaller orders that had been commissioned out to ensure timely preparation when the scale had grown larger than anticipated, as well as those who wanted to show off their skills at cooking or baking. Mayor Mare had apparently only informed the town of the increased scope and importance of their celebration a week prior.
Each had their own problems, though they were mostly resolved quickly. Hayside Cafe had a shortage of bits for purchasing some extra cutlery and ingredients they hadn’t accounted for; I awarded the stipend they required from the treasury on the promise that it would be repaid in a timely manner. Marmalade’s Diner was working understaffed due to a bout of sudden illness from half of their cook staff; I was able to appropriate some staff from Hayside, as well as a small establishment that had completed their work: Bon Bon’s Sweet Shop.
Finally, we arrived at Sugarcube Corner. Entering the colorful bakery, I was greeted with the sight of a haggard yellow stallion manning the register, trying to explain to a mare how they were unable to handle normal orders for the time being. As she seemed ready to turn tail and leave in a huff, the door to the kitchen flew open and the familiar pink mare bounced out with a wide smile on her face, even as she held a serving tray in her mouth.
She muttered something through clenched teeth and then giggled, rattling the tray and the muffins on it. After she set the tray down on the counter, she seemed to repeat herself. “Weekly blues for you, Ms. Shampoo.”
The mare brightened up, putting a small bag of bits onto the counter before taking a deep whiff of the muffins. “You’re a lifesaver, Pinkie. Have a good day, Mister Cake.” As the stallion behind the counter packaged the muffins, the tension seeped out of both of them. Pinkie, however, looked at me. Her mane and tail twitched slightly, and the chipper smile slowly drained from her face.
As the customer left, I walked up to the counter with Spike at my heels. “Mister Cake?” I asked, tugging at the insignia on my collar with my magic, just to be sure it was visible. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, here on Her Majesty’s service. I came to check up on the preparations for the Summer Solstice Celebration.”
The tension returned in a moment; Pinkie was still staring. “O-of course,” Mister Cake muttered, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Well, I’m sure you overheard a little of that. We’ve been swamped trying to do the last minute additions to the feast, but it’s coming along well.”
“Oh? That’s good to hear.” I offered a supportive smile in return. “Still, if there’s anything that I can do to help, don’t hesitate to as—”
“Purpler point!” Pinkie interjected. I then noticed that she wasn’t simply not smiling: she looked in awe.
I offered her the same supportive smile, uneasy as it was to maintain. “Yes, we met last night. Thank you for your directions. They were most helpful.”
Her smile returned at my word, and with a series of chipper hums she turned on her hooves and bounded back towards the kitchen. I tried not to appear shocked as I looked at Mister Cake. His smile faded to a sheepish grin. “Apologies for Pinkie Pie. She’s a bit… touched, but she means well and works hard. Knows practically everypony in town too.”
“No apology needed. As I said, if there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’ve already reallocated some staff between establishments to speed things up, and The Princess is willing to provide a stipend as long as it is repaid in full after the festivities.”
“Oh, that’s certainly appreciated, but we can make do on our own. We just got the last shipment of fruit we needed from Sweet Apple Acres and we’ll close up shop today to make sure we can focus just on the catering.” He bowed quite a few times over his explanation and I took it as sincere.
“Very well, Mister Cake. I’ll leave you to your work.” At those words, he gave me a nod and a more sincere, if stiff, smile. I turned to leave as Mister Cake returned to his kitchen.
As I left, I remarked that Pinkie Pie was indeed a bit “touched.” Living so close to the Everlorn, I could imagine a wayward journey for a young filly would lead to such circumstances. To survive though, regardless of one’s age, was a feat to be certain. Then again, it could be the same fate that befell the laborers at Sweet Apple Acres. Had the mare worked there over a summer or two?
I would get my answer eventually.
The afternoon was still young, but our duties for the day were complete. I returned with Spike to the library and prepared a simple report to The Princess. It was to assure her that preparations were going well and to note the stipends that had been offered in Her name. She did not send a reply.
While I perused the library once more, Spike prepared a small supper, as we were both mostly full from the veritable stuffing we had received at Sweet Apple Acres and the restaurants. A selection of cheeses and some cucumber sandwiches was a nice palette cleanser from the variety of sweets which we partook.
I wasn’t able to find anything else interesting about the town on a second, wakeful look through the library. However, I did chance upon a few older books of prophecy, authored by Clover the Cryptic and Mirror Gleam.
I compared their older copy of Clover the Cryptic’s Predictions and Prophecies to the newer one I had brought from Canterlot, but there was no substantial difference aside from the quality of paper stock and that, regrettably, some pages had fallen out of Ponyville’s copy. Cantations was a more curated selection of Clover’s prophecies, usually used in academic settings. Since I had found nothing in Cantations, I figured looking through the unfiltered Predictions and Prophecies, even at those that were marked as false or unfulfilled, would be helpful.
As for Mirror Gleam, she was a less renowned soothsayer from five centuries ago, and while her immediate predictions rang true, much of what she saw past her death had gone unfulfilled. Still, I was desperate, and took to reading Argent Augury as well.
The art of prophecy has always been fickle. While I knew that there were those who saw what lay ahead—as The Princess and many teachers had assured me—the view beyond the veil of time was described as muddled, at least to mortals. It was required then to either gaze long enough to create a crystal clear picture (which was more difficult than most soothsayers were capable of) or to simply embellish, painting the future in broad strokes and flowery language. With hindsight, it was easy to match an event to a vague picture, after all.
It was always those that dared a date, a certainty, that could be disproved.
All the dated doomsdays discussed in Argent Augury were for “great” mortals, sadly. Mirror Gleam had predicted, correctly, the death of a pegasus noblemare, a unicorn merchant, and an earth pony lawyer all happening on the same day in Trottingham. The cascading suffering that she said would follow for the city did not. It was much the same for many other deaths. Even among the more mundane prophecies, not one concerned itself with The Princess or Her kind.
Predictions and Prophecies was a bit more helpful, in that it at least broached topics concerning the Ancient Ones. However, nothing spoke of Their fall or the return of the two sisters trapped within the Moon. One prophecy stood out as I read, if only for a particular choice of word. I noted that it was one proven false by the small mark beside it in my newer copy.
Year 586 of Her reign
Betwixt Pharaoh and Plains
a great strife rises swiftly
when conquered break chains
and usurp the fifty.
Fury falls on the chainers,
but bicker breeds lackers.
The eclipse answers prayers
against the attackers,
while a campaign ends
sordid bonds make amends.
But subjugation
shant stop damnation
from a neighboring nation.
Context is key, of course. Abyssinians, servants of The Pharaoh of Black Suns, live mostly in a desert nation, but also occupy part of the plains to their east which eventually give way to the grasslands of the zebra. They often partake in border raids of their neighbors, seeking captives to build their monuments and excavate tombs. During a war between Equestria and the griffons, The Princess used an eclipse in a crucial battle that ended the war in the year 586. At this time, several newly captured slaves revolted in Abyssinia and “usurped” the fifty soldiers escorting them into the desert.
It was swiftly ended by one Abyssinian sorcerer who reduced the slaves to ash. There was no “Fury” that fell on the Abyssinians and not a soul was placed back in bonds. Certainly no damnation came from the zebras, or any other neighbor of Abyssinia.
And yet, I found myself thinking about “Fury.” It was a word, only one… and yet one crucial detail of the prophecy I found was the oddity in how it seemed to imply importance. Why were so many words deemed special in its telling? True, “Fury and Flames” felt more imposing when given such reverence, but so many other flourishes made little sense like “Shall” or “Beyond.” And why did the prophecy give reverence to the Princess in one instance, but in another not, to the Mares in the Moon at the end, but early not? Was it a poetic flourish, a way to show the passing of power?
As the sun began to set, I put my questions aside. However, despite the growing fatigue my long day had brought to bear, I felt one last look over the library’s shelves wouldn’t hurt. After passing over a few books that dealt with carpentry and farming, I stumbled on one of potential historical context: The Foundations of Equestria: Founder, Flourish and Fealty. Placing it on the desk, I lit a nearby lantern and read.
The start of the book I was fairly familiar with, as it was connected to Hearth’s Warming. It detailed how the three tribes, once disconnected by strife, were brought together by hardship and sacrifice. Clover the Cryptic had played a key role in the events, though she had gone by the moniker “the Clever” at the time. It was only after the vanquishing of the Windigos, Equestria’s foundation, and the resettlement that she began to have visions of the future.
We know now that cults of The Princess, and other Ancient Ones, had already begun practicing their worship and duties long before Equestria’s foundation, but it was done in scattered sects across the old lands. Resettlement brought these sects together, sometimes in conflict, but through their efforts vision and prophecy of what was meant to pass began to permeate to those with the gift.
It’s said Clover the Cryptic spent nearly every waking hour writing down the visions she saw. She did not live to see their coming, but hers were the first prophecies that predicted it. While they were written in cryptic language, much of her meaning has been deciphered over the years. Some books, like Cantations, include both her original words and the more detailed, descriptive expansions.
Past the descriptions of cults, Equestria’s foundation, and the coming of the Ancient Ones, there was a detailed description of the then royal lines of various tribes. Princess Platinum’s line, in particular, had the most detailed lineage, though it stopped dozens of years before The Princess’s arrival. The reason given was surprisingly vague, stating that the heir to the throne fled from the seat of power.
In their place, a council of the three tribes ruled until the two sisters arrived. The book did not describe when exactly, and it constantly referred to them in fairly deterministic terms, such as “those who would come to shun Her light and Harmony” or “those whose forlorn visages look down eternally upon our prosperity.” The only thing of interest related to the sisters was a drawing.
While I had seen many depictions of the sisters in the tale of The Princess’s arrival, they were all shrouded in shadow, little more than silhouettes. This drawing, however, was from when they arrived in Equestria. Two figures, unicorns, stood atop a cliff overlooking a prosperous village. Amidst the rising sun, their coats were clearly visible: shining white for the oldest and a deep blue for the younger. It did not speak of where they came from, but they must have held some power if they came to rule in such a short time.
Perhaps it was another strand of fate, of destiny, manipulated since time immemorial. For a moment I wondered if The Princess knew that they would refuse Her offer. Why then would She ask them, give them a chance to strike against Her? Clover the Cryptic’s premonition was a few pages ahead, when The Princess’s arrival was recounted:
When the Stars are right
and the cycle complete,
in the dead of night
shall They come to unseat.
Power shall pass
from mortal to God,
whether by loyal mass
or defiant unawed.
To the sisters an offer shall be made
to kneel and prosper within Her shade,
but in their choice they shall be dismayed
that no outcome but one will be conveyed.
Clover never wrote of their act of defiance, but it happened all the same. Perhaps it was the one occurrence outside of Her plan. That, or simply the outcome was all that mattered. No mortal could stand against Her, not truly. While She may have been wounded, She came to rule all the same.
I closed the book, satisfied with what new information I had gleaned and my fatigue finally catching up to me. The Sun had fallen away, and the Stars and Moon were out. I could not see the mares behind the cloud cover over Ponyville, only its glow. Soon, even that was gone, and the rumble of thunder began to break the quiet village’s peace.
Spike was meandering about, perusing the library on his own, so I took to looking over the list of tasks we still had to check on in the coming week. As the gentle pitter patter of rain on the window joined the underlying ensemble of thunder, slowly rising into the rapid crescendo of a downpour, I decided to move checking on the weather to the top of the list.