They hadn't visited Canterlot South Mall since their teens.
The sisters' favorite entrance had always been the little one at the side. There, they could get an Orange Julius as soon as they entered, walking the rest of the hallway's length with drinks and hot dogs in hand until they came to the ground floor's main area. Escalators to upper floors and subterranean ones, and shops of all kinds, all surrounding the huge fountain that was the centerpiece of the mall itself. Three slender twining spires, ranging from fifteen to twenty feet tall, with water continually falling from one ornate copper leaf to the next. The gentle series of streams finally swirling into the pool below, golden lights in its bottom glinting against countless pennies from the wishes of children and even young adults that had been made every day.
One of those pennies had been Celestia's, years ago, when Luna had been taken away.
But that had been half a lifetime ago. Now, the old shopping mall was empty, abandoned, an all but forgotten ghost of a bygone age. And across the years, the elements and local flora had not been kind. Overgrowth was everywhere, through the lot’s concrete and even along the outer walls.
The two of them had driven around the massive, decrepit complex until they’d found an unlocked door – the little one on the side, in fact – then made their way inside. Now they made their solomn way into the shadowy place, down the familiar short hallway, a comical devil leering down at them from his citrus throne in the shadows, trident upraised. Past the dead fountain, its spires stretching up like dead branches above an overgrown bowl of weeds, broken tile, and stone. Through huge hallways, with grass and even small trees growing up through the flooring, water dripping from cracks and holes in the ceiling above to fill impromptu pools of sunken earth.
In the distance, what looked like a deer startled and fled. Apparently, there was another way in they hadn’t seen. Then, down they went, down the black maws of lifeless escalators, past stained walls and gated-off stores, beneath forgotten light fixtures, dark, empty, their wires hanging like dead tendrils.
Their flashlights served them well as they descended below the ground floor, dust swirling in the beams they emitted. To one side, what might have been a young woman in a stained denim jacket rolled to her feet, startled by the light. Celestia called out to her, but she turned and fled into the refuge of the surrounding shadows. The sisters exchanged an uneasy glance, then continued on their journey, finally locating a familiar maintenance door in the side of a peeling wall. Before, they'd had to pick the door's padlock to gain entrance. But now, the ancient lock that held it shut was rusted open.
Luna removed the lock, and opened the door.
The hallway beyond was essentially as they’d remembered it: long and musty, winding around and between the walls of the ancient mall. They plunged ahead, little realizing that the path they followed from memory was now whispered about in urban legends and internet myths.
Finally, they stood before the portal they’d sought, an ancient ash wood door, completely out of place in what had become a haven for derelicts, animals, and runaways. The gold lettering painted on the ancient door was almost completely faded. Of the top line, only the ‘D’ at the end remained. Below it, barely legible, were the words:
.
ANTIQUES AND CABINET CURIOSITIES
.
And beneath that, in smaller letters:
.
LOST AND FOUND A SPECIALTY
.
Luna stared at the door before them, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “After all these years, I can not believe we are doing this.”
“This was your idea,” Celestia pointed out. “And I’m open to better suggestions.”
“And if I had them, I would give them,” Luna sighed, holding her temple with one hand.
“Me, too.”
“Yes. Still, I suppose it could be worse.”
Celestia nodded. “True. The door’s actually here this time, for example.”
“Or, perhaps it’s just that we can find it this time,” Luna muttered, crossing her arms protectively around herself. “He does love toying with people.”
“Yes, he does. But he’s still Sunrise’s best hope. And Aurora’s,” Celestia pointed out. “You know what the legal system can be like, once you’re inside.”
Luna sighed, looked away. “Better than most.”
She fell silent. Celestia put an arm around her, and for a few moments, Luna simply leaned against her.
“We can control this,” Celestia insisted, as much to herself as to Luna.
More silence.
“Plus, he’ll still be bound,” Celestia added. “By the compact, and by the debt he owes us.”
Still, Luna said nothing. She just looked at the old, faded door, lost in unpleasant memories.
“He still owes us,” Celestia said again. “He can’t ask for anything. And I can’t think of a better time to call on that debt than now.”
But Luna shook her head. “He’s dangerous.”
“Yes, he is,” Celestia admitted. “But he also brought you back to me. Any risk, any price, would have been worth that.”
“And now, with her otherworldly twin at stake, Sunset has made it clear she feels the same,” Luna frowned, standing fully upright again. “We can’t risk him finding her. And surely, after all she’s been through, all the times she and the other Rainbooms have saved us and our other students…”
“…surely we can be there for her now,” Celestia agreed quietly.
Luna’s eyes narrowed, as other memories filled her mind.
“Even if we weren’t in a better position to bargain than anyone else… in the end, together, we beat him,” she said. “If we have to, we can do it again.”
“Yes.”
“It has to be us.”
“Yes.”
There were a few more moments of silence, and the sisters exchanged a glance and nodded. Then, unified in their determination, they raised their eyes and their hands, and knocked in unison.
From behind the ash wood portal, a man’s voice answered, ancient and strong.
“Come in.”
The door opened easily on its rusted hinges. As they entered, the sisters were met with the mingled scents of old leather, cigars, and moldering tomes, yellowing pages in leather bindings gently stained over the ages by imported tobacco. They looked at one another, each seeing her own unease in her sister’s eyes. The scent brought back too many memories.
That, and… other things.
The curio shop was the size of a luxurious living room, maybe twenty feet long, maybe longer. An oblong place dimly lit by old yellow bulbs in Victorian sconces. The floor, essentially visible as a pathway between furniture, stacks of books, and graven boxes, was a dark hardwood. The ceiling was of similar material, with ornate moulding lining its edge where it met the tobacco-stained walls.
The furnishings, meanwhile, consisted of shelves and tables filled with a random assortment of books, small figurines, knickknacks and forgotten antiques. Agrippa and Crowley freely associated with Goethe, Wagner, and Twain among the more legible spines; the rest of the titles and their respective creators lost to the ravages of time.
Here, a tarnished silver skull, covered with darkened Pictish runes and crowned by a purplish-black candle, the wax coiling down its silver engravings like misshapen tentacles. There, an old metallic Acroyear figure holding the small, mummified paw of some kind of simian. And everywhere, countless unique treasures and discards, too many to properly note and identify at once.
Crystal spheres, models of planets. An ancient brass telescope, covered in dust. Gnarled wooden wands and staves, fixed with crystals and precious stones. Decks of cards. A ventriloquist’s dummy in formal wear, bound in yew thorns and gagged with black silk, its rage-filled eyes seeming to follow them as they moved through the room.
On the far side, facing them as they entered, was an ancient oak desk. Propped in a corner behind it was a silver-handled cane, its crook in the shape of a jackalope’s head. On a nearby coat rack, a top hat embroidered with mismatched horns along its sides rested next to a patchwork coat and tails of randomly clashing fabrics and hues.
The old man stood slowly from behind his desk, white button-up shirt with grey slacks and suspenders, red-on-yellow eyes narrowing beneath his massive ivory brows. His grin was both hungry and inviting as he drank in the sight of them. Behind him, a small collection of medieval weaponry was mounted on the wall, surmounted by a blackthorn shillelagh.
“Girls,” he said. “How I’ve missed you.”
In the plentiful shadows of the place, something scuttled.
The sisters exchanged a glance as the door slowly creaked closed behind them.
“Dissonance, we need your help,” Celestia said.
“Of course you do,” the grey man purred, stroking his long, white goatee. “Nothing less would ever bring you to my door. And after all I’ve done for you, too.”
As he continued, he took a trio of snow globes from his collection on a nearby shelf, lifting them neatly from their bases. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. And how is my school doing, by the way? You know, I must confess that, as full as my new life is, sometimes nostalgia does beckon.”
“Canterlot High is not your school!” Luna flared. “Not anymore!”
“But it’s fine,” Celestia interjected, shooting a warning look at her sister. “The grounds and the students are all doing well. Thank you for asking.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a slight bow. “Still, one wonders what you could possibly need this time of year. There are no summer classes running that I’m aware of.”
“We need your help,” Celestia repeated.
“And?”
“It’s… not a student,” Celestia admitted. “Not exactly.”
“Aha,” he grinned. “The plot thickens.”
“But it is school related,” Luna assured him.
“Well, then,” he said. He gestured to a pair of antique chairs by the book-covered table nearest him. “Let’s talk about that.”
Celestia frowned as they stepped forward. “It’s a long story.”
“Ooooo, those are the best kind,” he said giddily, considering the flawless glass orbs in his hands. “Tell me everything, do. And spare no details.”
“Dissonance, we don’t have time—”
“Wrong!” he snarled, mad eyes huge over his uneven bared teeth. “You’re on my time now, bought and paid for!”
He threw himself into his old oak chair, which creaked and swiveled at the impact.
“I have enough time for us all,” he added cheerily as he rotated, the chair’s wheels moving him back and forth slightly.
He winked. “I have oodles.”
As their revolving host began to juggle his snow globes, the sisters exchanged a helpless look. Then, they sat, and told him the story of Sunset, Sunrise, and the girl named Aurora Borealis.
By the time they’d finished, their host was nodding to himself in the dim light. He was standing, now, his snow globe play having moved from simple throws to complicated contact juggling. He reminded Celestia of nothing less than a rag-tag Goblin King, and she willed herself not to shudder as Luna finished her own narration.
After a few moments’ silence, Dissonance’s nods became more energetic.
“Yes, yes, I understand completely. And I can definitely help you both,” he said. “Which means helping this new crop of girls, as well. And that, in turn, means helping your exchange student, which of course also means helping the new girl on the side.”
He smiled. “You do realize, of course, that this makes us square.”
Celestia frowned. “Oh?”
Dissonance nodded.
“Ohhhhh, yes,” he said sagely. “Your little Sunrise might be able to last in prison for however long, or she might not. But the young lady that she, in turn, wants to save…?”
He stood, tossing a globe from behind his back to catch it and resume his throws. “A life for a life, girls. I’ll throw the rest in for free, aside from my usual price, in light of how well you’ve been taking care of my school.”
Then he rounded on them, looming, his white brows meeting over a hungry look. “But that means that after this, we’re back to the old days,” he snarled. “Quid pro quo. Bargains, trades, and all that implies!”
Luna started. “But the compact—”
“Will remain, of course,” he said, his tone suddenly contemplative. “A deal is a deal, after all. And much though the matter did vex me at first, I will admit that your little no-death stipulation has added something of a welcome challenge to my life.
“And in return, as always, you will continue to accept and teach whomever comes to you to learn, no questions asked,” he smiled. “So long as they can provide you with the bare necessities of paperwork, of course.”
Then he leaned forward, head moving slowly, contemplating the two of them like a hungry serpent might consider a pair of young mice. “But thisss… this discharges all remaining debt between ussss.”
There was a pause, then, he hissed quietly, “Agreeeeed?”
Both sisters looked down.
“Agreed,” they said in unison.
Then he was sitting on his desk, the very picture of cheerful civility, any traces of hunger gone as quickly as they had appeared.
“Splendid!” he exclaimed. “Now, you two girls just run along and play with your friends. Your Uncle Dissonance has arrangements to make. I’ll be ready in less than a week.”
Celestia started. “But the trial is only a few days—”
WHAM!
Dissonance had slammed one of the globes on the table before them with a noise like a gunshot, making them both jump.
“Ohhhhhh,” he whispered madly, eyes wide. “That won’t be a problem.”
Within the globe, almost completely obscured by swirling white fragments, was a stately grey building. Before it was a blindfolded woman, holding a scale.
That night, the city of Canterlot was hit by one of the worst blizzards in coastal history.
The confusion was made even worse, of course, by its happening in August. The city was simply not ready to handle such an event, nor were its people. Cars and buses skidded and wrecked. Power went out across the city. Hospitals were quickly filled, emergency services strained to the breaking point. And even then the snow did not stop, merely slowed to what would otherwise have been a barely manageable level. It was a catastrophe, a bedlam, a surge of panic and chaos the likes of which Canterlot hadn’t seen in decades.
Municipal buildings got the worst of it, being somehow in the epicenter of the storm. Between that and the city being ground to a near-complete halt, any number of court dates were, indeed, postponed. Meanwhile, the people of Canterlot mobilized as best they could, helped by state and federal agencies, to deal with the sudden upsurge of hunger, injuries, and fear.
Afterwards, it was widely hailed as a miracle that no one had died from the storm, even indirectly. But it was a miracle forged largely from the efforts of a mass of hundreds of volunteers, joining together in a desperate affirmation of years of community, family, and yes, friendship.
The two sisters were out in the worst of it, along with the Rainbooms, Sunrise, Princess Luna, and many former and current students of Canterlot High. They trudged through the snow, sometimes navigating drifts taller than they were, helping to rescue the trapped and pass out emergency relief.
But along with the pride they felt in their pupils and friends, occasionally Celestia and Luna exchanged a guilty glance through the continuing snowfall. After all, they weren’t exactly blameless in all this.
Dissonance was exacting his price.