//------------------------------// // Part I - Ch. II - Parish-By-The-Sea // Story: Records of Equestria: Elements of Power // by Gearcrow //------------------------------// “Why protect regular dreams? They’re just dreams?” “I’d think the tantabus and your own experiences with the moon would have shown you otherwise?” “Those incidents were different, and you know it.” “True, they were… but dreams aren’t just a product of your mind, held in isolation. Dreams are a realm of their own, and worse things than your fears can stalk them, if they’re clever enough. There are other things too, old things. I don’t wish to speak of them.” “Ah, well, thank you for helping a mare sleep easier.” “If you focus on the training, Rarity, it will not be a problem.” “Pish-posh. Twilight already taught me how to protect my mind and my dreams.” “Did she now? We shall see.” - Princess Luna and Rarity 100 EoH Seagulls cried out to each other in the gray sky above, slowly circling the shallow shore, periodically diving for the occasional crab or insect. Old, crusted feathers and half buried chunks of rotten driftwood lay strewn about the beach, covered in bunches of brown kelp and stringy algae. Rarity’s normally pristine hoofs sank into the dark spongy sand with every step, and a strong salty breeze was wreaking havoc on her mane. It was dreary and miserable, but Rarity wasn’t prone to letting a little weather get her down, especially on a journey home. Today the crisp tangy air lifted her spirits and gladdened her heart. “Whatcha smiling about?” Pinkie Pie asked, bouncing along next to Rarity. The soft sand didn’t seem to be impeding her lift in any meaningful way, and Rarity, for the thousandth time, marveled at her peculiar friend. “Oh, nothing really,” she said in her sing-song voice, looking off at the flat ripples of the sea and not at Pinkie Pie, who was grinning slyly and fixing Rarity with lidded mischievous eyes. “Well, ok then,” Pinkie said nonchalantly before doing something very unlike herself by not asking any follow up questions. Rarity narrowed her eyes at her friend, immediately suspicious, but said nothing and focused her attention on needlessly straightening her saddle bags. This was a trap of some sort. Pinkie started whistling a cartoonishly conspicuous tune, but Rarity ignored her. Then Pinkie started humming, and Rarity continued to ignore her. How interesting all the, uhm, flotsam was to study. Maybe she could find something in it to inspire a new line of beach wear? Pinkie took a massive breath, no doubt preparing to break into song, and Rarity finally broke. She cleared he throat quickly, preempting the song and catching Pinkie’s attention. “Why do you ask, dear?” She tried her best to sound merely curious and not as guilty as she felt. Which was ridiculous. Why should she feel guilty at all? She hadn’t done anything wrong and if Rarity happened to be feeling certain things, well, there wasn’t anything wrong about that either. Not that she was, you know, feeling anything particular. Or pining for anypony. Certainly not. If Pinkie was jumping to conclusions, then that was entirely her own problem. “No reason,” Pinkie answered, grinning wickedly. “Just thought you might be excited about finally seeing somepony again. Somepony tall and brooding, somepony you haven’t seen in weeks.” Rarity felt a hot flush creep slowly up her regrettably pale cheeks and was possessed by an urgent need to change the subject. “Pinkie, darling, I’m just excited to be going home. It’s been quite some time you know, and I’m sure both the school and the boutique are in desperate need of my particular touch.” Besides, a small part of Rarity was still furious with that tall and brooding somepony. It was a turbulent and awful mix of emotions she had no desire to confront at this particular moment. Pinkie smiled at Rarity. “The school hasn’t needed your touch in years, silly,” she said. “I’m sure Sweetie is doing a super-terrific job, as always. But yeah, I’m happy about going home too.” She pulled a cupcake from her mane with her forelock and stuffed it unceremoniously into her mouth. The mare wasn’t nearly as much of an airhead as the uninitiated often assumed, and she knew well enough when to leave a subject alone. It helped that Rarity and Pinkie knew each other about as well as any two ponies could. Rarity, the meticulous journal keeper that she was, had kept close track of every adventure she’d ever embarked on and with whom she’d gone. Pinkie Pie had by far been her most frequent travelling companion. They’d embarked on three hundred and eight friendship missions together, though, admittedly, many of the more recent missions had been of a decidedly non-friendly nature. Of all the Elements, excepting perhaps Fluttershy, Pinkie was her closest friend. The two of them had become remarkably efficient at dealing with even the most rough-and-tumble excursions. They continued in comfortable silence for the better part of an hour. Their destination, a quaint harbor town called Parish-By-The-Sea, was clearly visible on the horizon, and Rarity was certain they would reach it well before sundown. On the morrow, they’d have to catch a ship back to Baltimare, but getting into town early would thankfully allow for at least a small amount of rest and relaxation. Rarity glanced with disgust at some of the more ingrained stains on her coat. She was in desperate need of a bath and a glass of wine. A very large glass of wine. “Pinkie, do you think there’s any room at that adorable little inn we saw down by the docks? You know, the one with the brick tower and the climbing ivy.” The place had caught her eye on their first pass through Parish and possessed a kind of elegant country beauty. It was marked by an intricately painted sign swinging from well-oiled chains over a red stable door, and Rarity had at once been struck by the fortuitous name stenciled there. The Magic Cellar, in gold letters, under a remarkably accurate depiction of a certain purple princess looking rather drunk. Rarity and Pinkie Pie had both had a giggle at that. “I really hope so,” Pinkie said. “I have so much sand in my ears right now, and I could definitely use a wash.” To demonstrate she tilted her head and giggled at Rarity’s appalled expression, as a flood of sand came pouring out of her right ear. “I uh, I don’t doubt they’ll have baths for us, but I’m entirely sure your lessons with Discord were meant for things other than disturbing visual gags.” “Pfft, have you met him?” Pinkie said, pulling her ear clean off her head and shaking the last of the sand out of it. Rarity rolled her eyes. “Please put that back on before we get into town. We attract enough attention as it is.” “Fine,” Pinkie said and reattached her ear with and exaggerated screwing motion. “That one’s really hard to do anyway.” Pinkie seemed right about that, as she was clearly out of breath and had turned slightly pale. Rarity decided not to chastise her friend for wasting so much energy and smiled at her instead. “Do you want to take a break? We can sit down and eat something if you’d like, and we’d still have plenty of time to reach town before nightfall.” “Nah, that’s ok. I’ve got plenty more travel cupcakes, and I can eat while we walk. Let’s go!” Pinkie bounced off towards Parish and Rarity trotted after. It took them another hour and a half to reach the town, and Rarity was thrilled about their return to civilization. The two of them had spent the better part of a week mucking about in the wild with not a decent house or well-mannered pony for miles around. While Pinkie definitely enjoyed the outdoorsy parts of their adventures, Rarity could only handle so many days without a proper shower before she started getting irritable. Parish-By-The-Sea was a beautiful little hamlet with no more than a few dozen buildings all made of brightly colored bricks, many adorned with shingles or adorable thatch roofs. They may have been well outside the borders of Equestria, but this was a pony town through and through, and Rarity could feel some of her homesickness drain away as they walked down the well-kept cobble streets towards the harbor. They attracted plenty of looks and stares, just as they had on their way through the first time. In a town this size, everypony knew everypony else, and strangers were uncommon and fascinating. Also, despite their distance from Ponyville, Rarity was sure the town’s residents recognized them for exactly who they were. The fact that they were covered head to tail in dirt and grime certainly didn’t do them any favors either. She was used to this kind of attention, and in any case, it was preferable to the veritable mobbing they experienced whenever they set foot in Canterlot. Rarity smiled at a nervous looking florist who’d stopped midway through her arrangement to gape at them. She looked quite young, but the arrangement she was working on was lovely and spoke of talent. Pinkie snatched a pastry from a cart as it rolled by and, with her tail, tossed several gold bits at the startled pony pushing it. To his credit, the old fellow deftly pulled his cap from his head and caught every single one. Pinkie had no doubt overpaid handsomely, but their unique positions did afford them certain, more tangible, benefits. There weren’t many ponies out and about this late, and Rarity and Pinkie made their way down to the harbor swiftly and with little interference. They were stopped twice briefly, once by an excited young filly who wanted to know if they were really that Rarity and that Pinkie Pie, and another time by an older stallion trying his best to sell them a set of fancy new saddle-bags. Honestly, the craftsmanship was subpar at best, and Rarity turned him down politely. They reached the inn well before sunset and, it seemed, just in time too. Even Pinkie’s regular exuberance was beginning to fade from the long journey, and they were both in dire need of some rest. A robust looking earth pony with a brown coat and a wine glass cutie mark was cleaning several small tables lined up on the street in front of the establishment. The door had been left open, and the sound of a dulcimer drifted out to the street accompanied by the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables. Rarity’s stomach gave a rather loud rumble that was not at all ladylike. The earth pony must have heard her because he looked up from his cleaning duties with a warm smile, ready to greet them. He paused for only a brief second before smiling even wider and welcoming them with a booming and friendly voice. “Greetings and welcome to my humble establishment. You can call me Schooner.” He bowed his head deeply as he spoke. “How may I be of service to two distinguished ladies such as yourself?” Rarity smiled back, impressed by his polite demeanor but felt a tug of mischief in her chest. “Well, we saw your beautiful sign and thought to ourselves that we just had to visit this inn. Didn’t we, Pinkie?” Pinkie tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle, and winked at Rarity. “Oh yes, absolutely!” The inn-keep glanced quickly at the sign above the door and back at Rarity, smile wavering and beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Oh, Duchess, I... ah... no offense is meant. I’m sure you understand. It’s just a jest, a bit of fun you see.” “I’m quite sure no ill-will was intended. We’re just having a bit of fun ourselves, Sir Schooner. Pinkie and I both thought the sign was frightfully clever when we passed through Parish the first time.” She smiled to put him at ease, and Schooner looked visibly relieved. “Well now, Sir Schooner,” he said, cheeks reddening. “Can’t say I’ve ever been called that before, but I assure you both that I’ll do whatever I can to make your stay a comfortable one. Do you perhaps need rooms for the evening? As far as I know, there’ll be no ships leaving until the morning, and I can guarantee that we provide the finest room and board in all of Parish.” Rarity was delighted with their eloquent, and admittedly fetching, host. Pinkie too looked rather appreciative. “Thank you. We’d be glad to pay for rooms.” “And food!” Pinkie said excitedly. Schooner smiled and nodded. “I’ll have Lilypad get your rooms in order, and I assure you Hie... uhm Prelate Pie, we have plenty of food.” He smiled warmly at Pinkie, but Rarity had noticed the slip and frowned. “The best food around, you’ll find,” he continued, “and only the best will do for such famous guests.” They followed Schooner into the warm and brightly lit commons of The Magic Cellar. Schooner himself dashed off, presumably to the kitchens, and Rarity and Pinkie sat down at a small table near the exit. While this was no doubt one of the finer establishments they’d been forced to frequent throughout their travels, their penchant for attracting trouble and requiring a quick exit had made such precautions reflexive. A young gentlecolt with a dark mane and adorable freckles took their orders, and before long the two of them were indulging in, Rarity had to admit, a delectable spread of salads, oatcakes, and stewed vegetables. A hardier meal than Rarity normally preferred, but such were the demands of adventuring. “Why the frowny face, Rarity?” Pinkie asked between mouthfuls of stew. Rarity had not realized that she was frowning and quickly stopped. Eternal youth or not, it did her complexion no good to strain it so. “Oh, I just don’t like that awful thing everyone calls you. If ponies insist on referring to us by those ridiculous monikers, they should at the very least get them right.” “Aw, don’t be like that, Rares. Schooner seems really nice. I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it. And you can’t expect creatures not to be freaked out a little by an earth pony that can do magic.” Pinkie sounded as sincere as always, but Rarity could see the frailty in her smile and the shadow of resignation that crept into her eyes. Imperceptible to others perhaps, but not to her and the rest of the girls. “Besides,” Pinkie continued, “‘Hierophant’ isn’t so bad. Yona used to say it was a really honorable title among the Yaks, and most ponies don’t even know what it means anyway.” “If you say so.” Rarity wasn’t at all convinced, but she didn’t want to push the issue. They continued to eat, enjoying the cozy atmosphere, and talking about all the things they would do once they finally got back home. The sun set slowly, and the sky grew rosy. A darling little filly, the aforementioned Lilypad, whom Rarity had understood to be Schooner’s daughter, appeared by their table. Rarity was about to ask her to fetch Schooner when she noticed that the filly was trying to levitate a small silver tray onto the table. “Oh dearie, let me get that for you.” She grabbed the tray and the letter with her own magic and placed it between herself and Pinkie. “Dad says it’s for you, Duchess, but he didn’t say who sent it. It just appeared out of thin air when you were eating, uhm, my lady.” “Rarity! Rarity, she’s so cute! Can we keep her?” Pinkie was leaning over her plate and the food to get a better look at the filly. She was short, probably no older than eleven, and unlike her dad, she was a unicorn. She had a cream colored coat and a laurel green mane, and she sported a silver sextant for a cutie mark. Her eyes were very large. “Pinkie, goodness gracious, will you behave yourself?” She turned back to Lilypad and smiled. “Thank you, dear. Will you let your father know that we quite enjoyed our meals and that we’d like to retire for the evening?” “Oh, yes, of course,” Lilypad responded, eyes a-twinkle. “And could you have someone send a bottle of wine to my room and maybe get a bath started for me? Oh, and one for Pinkie as well?” Lilypad nodded effusively and dashed off. Rarity giggled. She reminded her of Sweetie Belle when she’d been that age. “Who do you think it’s from?” Pinkie asked, eyeballing the letter suspiciously. “Well, if it ‘just appeared’, as Lilypad said, then I imagine it must be from Twilight.” “Ooh, do you think she’s spying on us using that Orbu... that crystal ball thing she has?” Rarity rolled her eyes at the pink mare and suppressed a twinge of old anger. “Certainly not. If Twilight were tracking us, she’d hardly need to resort to such parlor tricks.” She gestured to their cutie marks for emphasis, but Pinkie looked unconvinced. “If you say so, Rares. You gonna open it?” Rarity grabbed the letter and levitated a knife over to cut it open. She’d barely begun when Pinkie’s entire body began to vibrate violently. Rarity immediately flung the letter and the knife onto the table and pushed herself and her chair as far from it as possible. Nothing happened. Pinkie, who hadn’t moved at all, grimaced. “Hmm, well at least it didn’t explode. Maybe poison?” She leaned down and sniffed at the envelope. “Doesn’t smell like poison.” “Pinkie! A little caution maybe?” Rarity’s heart was still racing. “Phooey, it can’t hurt me anyway.” Rarity moved her chair back to the table and sat back down. “Well yes, probably not. The rest of us are not quite as indestructible as you and Applejack though.” She conjured up a small shield around the letter and tore it open using just her magic. When no immediate danger presented itself, she took a deep breath and began to read... or at least tried to. The letter was composed of just a bunch of lines and dots, not a single letter. .... --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- / ... .... .- -.. . ... / -... . .-- .- .-. . / --- ..-. / ... .- .-.. - Rarity stared at the dots and the lines, then looked at Pinkie Pie who appeared just as confused. “This is morse code, isn’t it?” she asked. “I think so. But I don’t know how to read morse code. And why would anypony write down morse code? That doesn’t make any sense.” Rarity glared at the letter in a vain attempt to force it to divulge its secrets. “Still think it’s from Twilight?” Pinkie asked, eyebrow raised. “No… No, I don’t. If Twilight wanted to encrypt a letter, she’d use something much less obvious, I think. And for the life of me, I can’t imagine why she’d need to encrypt a letter.” Rarity cast a couple of truth spells and a revelation spell on the letter for good measure but was hardly surprised when the spells yielded no results. “Whoever sent it is a pretty decent magician. Not only did they protect the letter from tampering spells, but they also tracked us, found us, and ported a letter to us with remarkable precision.” “Well, I don’t like it.” Pinkie said. “It smells of sneakiness, and ponies who sneak are usually up to no good.” Pinkie scrunched up her nose and tapped her forehead a few times, as she often did when thinking about something. “Maybe Schooner or someone else around here has a book that can transcribe morse code? It’s a harbor town, right. Maybe they use it for their boats and stuff?” Rarity was about to reply but noticed their host making his way over. “I see you’ve finished your meal,” he said grinning. “Made it all myself. Don’t want to toot my own horn too much, but I did tell you it was the best around.” “Oh yes, we really enjoyed it, but I think we might have indulged a bit too much.” “Of course.” Schooner nodded and placed two keys on the table. “A bottle of wine has been brought to your room as you requested, my lady. A rich red, excellent vintage if I do say so myself. Would you like a night cap as well, Mrs. Pie? Something a little sweeter perhaps?” Pinkie smiled at Schooner, and even Rarity had to admit that his earlier slip of the tongue was probably just that. Rarity fancied herself an excellent judge of character—a century of travel would do that to a pony—and at this point, she felt certain there wasn’t an insincere bone in Schooner’s body. “No thanks,” Pinkie said. “I just want to get clean and get some sleep.” “Ah well, you’ll both find hot baths and several clean towels waiting for you. Should you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call on me. Good evening to both of you, and may you find rest from your journeys here at the Magic Cellar.” Schooner turned to leave when Rarity remembered what Pinkie had said earlier. “Just one other thing, dear. Do you perhaps know somepony who has a book on morse code? It seems we’re in need of one.” Schooner raised an eyebrow at the unusual request. “Well, I can’t say we have one here at the inn, but I’ll ask around and see if I can’t find one for you. Should I have it sent to your room if I find one?” “That would be wonderful.” “Well then,” he said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” “Oh no, you have already been quite helpful.” Schooner bowed his head and left, but Rarity could hear him mumbling to himself as he walked away. “Wait till I tell the fellas about this. They’ll never believe me.” Pinkie leaned in conspiratorially towards Rarity. “I know something else he can do for me.” She bit her lower lip as she spoke and threw an entirely inappropriate look at Schooner’s hindquarters. Rarity blushed deeply. “Pinkie! Need I remind you that you are a married mare!” Pinkie winced for just a moment but quickly hid it. Instead, she giggled as she stood and grabbed her key. “Oh Rarity, don’t be such a fuss.” Rarity sighed and grabbed the letter and her own key. She hadn’t meant to hurt Pinkie. The words had just slipped out. Rarity thought that maybe she was lucky to have never married. It was one thing for Fluttershy, who’s husband was literally immortal. The same applied to Applejack and Rainbow Dash, who had each other. Cheese Sandwich was absolutely ancient by earth pony standards and hadn’t been able to get out of bed for the better part of a decade now. How he was still alive, Rarity had no idea, but Pinkie had grandchildren at this point who were physically older than she was… it wasn’t an easy thing to deal with, to say the least. The rooms at the Magic Cellar turned out to be incredibly cozy. The countryside aesthetic of the dining area infused every nook and cranny. The floor was made of solid polished wood, and the decorations were all suitably minimalistic and rustic. Several oleander blossoms were floating carelessly in a shallow dish of water on her bed stand, and the periwinkle bedspreads smelled fresh and newly laundered. The washroom was plenty large, and Rarity was surprised to find that it accommodated a beautiful clawfoot tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water. On the floor next to the tub stood the wine bottle she’d requested—already open to air—with a wide-rimmed short-stemmed wine glass placed upside down over the bottleneck. The water smelled pleasantly of lavender, and Rarity wasted no time pouring herself a glass and sliding into the bath. It was simply divine. All the aches of her journey melted away as her muscles relaxed. Most of the grime came out of her coat too, but she was sure a vigorous scrubbing would eventually be called for to get rid of the rest. For now, she just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment. She sat like that, sipping her wine, for much longer than she should have. Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and some nagging part of her mind reminded her that she still needed to scrub and that falling asleep in a bathtub was ill-advised. She ignored that part of her mind. After all, hadn’t Pinkie told her not to be such a fuss? This was fine, she thought, as she drifted off to sleep. - Rarity’s polished hooves stepped silently across the silver sheen of a monstrous lake surrounded on all sides by towering mountain tops capped in snow and shrouded in clouds. The sky was a clear winter gray, and the dark green firs crowding the base of the mountains stood out starkly to her well trained eyes against the granite backdrop. She imagined that she could see every individual pine needle quiver under the weight of this ancient place. Chilly dew clung to her coat and mane, and her deep breaths fogged almost before they left her lips. She didn’t know where she was or how it was that she was able to stand on the surface of the lake without sinking, but she did know, instinctively, that this was a place of old power. A pure place. The water was still. The air was still. Her heart was still. She looked around, careful to step gently and to not make any sounds. She could see no other pony or creature, but she felt something, something heavy and ancient. As she walked, she saw on the distant shore a gray fog beginning to emerge from between the trees. It coiled and snaked, and when it reached the lake, it began to spread across the surface towards Rarity. She studied the fog carefully. It formed and dissolved into shapes she could almost, but not quite, make sense of. The shapes frightened her, but she resolved to keep walking towards it. It seemed important that she do so, that she not turn around and flee. Some distance ahead of her, the lake rippled, and an object bobbed to the surface. Even this far away, she could clearly tell that it was a compass of some sort. It was small–no larger than a quail egg–and completely spherical. The body of the compass was made of brass shaped into intricately interlacing bands and knots. The spindles themselves were contained at the center of the compass in a smaller crystalline orb within the brass meshwork. They were hewn from kunzite, or maybe amethyst, and were surrounded by five pearls that seemed locked in place. She marveled at the acuity of her eyesight in this place and wondered about the five pearls. She would have assumed they’d represent cardinal directions, but then there should be only four. Clearly this compass wasn’t meant to navigate anything as mundane as direction. The fog continued to encroach upon the lake, and she grew fearful that it might reach the compass before she did. She knew she shouldn’t run, not here. Nevertheless, she hurried her steps. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the compass, ignoring the gray wall advancing towards her as best she could. The minutes stretched on in silence. Rarity’s legs began to burn from the distance she’d covered and the pace she was setting, but she had to reach the compass first. She had to save it. Nothing was more important. Her heart began to ache and as she moved closer, to her surprise, the compass began to glow. The light was warm and comforting, and she felt a great reverence overtake her. She stood in the presence of something sacred. She felt the ache in her legs soothe and the spring in her step return. The fog seemed less frightening too, though it still churned and boiled. The shapes had become more tangible. She could make out rearing ponies with gaping silent mouths and other more terrible things. It brought to mind the Umbrum, which was a fearful thought. Still, the warm light fortified her spirit. Rarity and the misty shapes reached the glowing compass at the same time. This close the purity of the light was rapturous and intoxicating, but the oppressive terror of the fog was desperately trying to match its intensity. She struggled not to buckle under the emotional onslaught. She was the Element of Generosity, and she was not about to let some unpleasant weather get the better of her, no matter how magical or malicious it was. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. The compass was within hoof’s reach, and although she feared what would happen when she grabbed it, she knew she had to try. She clenched her jaw and lunged for the compass but so did the shapes in the fog. Rarity’s hoof was first to reach it, and she felt its warmth flow through her leg and spread through her whole body. The sensation was short lived because a moment later the fog crashed down around her, and she had never felt anything so cold and horrible in her entire life. She screamed, finally breaking the reverent silence that had lingered over the lake. She was sure she was dying. She could feel her throat and lungs freeze and her heart seize. Her legs kicked and spasmed, fighting desperately to free herself from the fog’s grip, but it had somehow become solid and refused to let go. The water beneath her gave way, and she plunged into the depths, pushed towards the bottom by writhing dark tendrils determined to kill her. She tried to shout for help, but the water stole the sound and quickly filled her lungs. She knew this was the end, but she also knew that protecting the compass was far more important than surviving. She gripped it as tightly as she could. Her mind began to numb, drifting in an out of clarity, and the agonizing pain slowly started to fade. Eventually, she felt nothing at all except for the comforting warmth of the compass pressed against her chest. The last thing she heard before death stole her away was a loud knocking sound. Rarity sat up straight and panicked for a moment when she still felt cold water all around her. She chided herself for a fool when she realized it was just the tub. Her wine glass was floating between her knees, the water tinged red from the wine still in it when she’d fallen asleep. Good job Rarity. Some protector of Equestria you are, almost drowning in a bathtub. The knocking sound came again, and she realized someone was at the door. “I’m coming, just a moment please!” She levitated a towel around her mane and used a little bit of magic to quickly dry and heat herself. A quick glance at the clock told Rarity that it was almost midnight. It turned out to be Lilypad at the door. She looked properly apologetic about knocking at such a late hour but was clutching a small and tattered book to her chest. “Uhm, sorry to wake you?” Lilypad was looking at the wet towel around Rarity’s mane and was clearly unsure whether or not she had in fact disturbed Rarity’s sleep. “Dad told me to bring you this.” She held out the little book which read Morse Code for The Seafarer in cursive black print on the blue cover. “He said he got it from one of his sailor friends down at the docks but that it’s ok for you to keep it.” “Ah, yes. Thank you, Lilypad.” Rarity had entirely forgotten about the book and the letter as soon as she’d gotten into her bath. For once, she was happy that Twilight wasn’t there. Rarity often got on her case for her absent-mindedness, and she didn’t doubt Twilight would be giving her one of those smug–very not attractive at all–little smiles if she could see her now. She levitated the book over to her nightstand and thanked Lilypad one more time. The filly turned to leave, but then stopped with a hesitant look on her face. “Yes? Is there something else I can do for you, dear?” Rarity asked. “Well, it’s just, you and Mrs. Pie are, like, heroes, aren’t you?” The question caught Rarity off guard. “Uhm, well I don’t know about being heroes, but we do try to help when we can.” “But you’d stop anything bad from happening to us, yeah?” Lilypad looked very timid, and Rarity frowned with a sense of growing concern. “Lilypad, is there somepony doing something bad to you right now? Because if there is, you can definitely tell me.” “Oh, uhm, no not really.” Lilypad looked at her hoofs as she spoke, but then she looked Rarity in the eyes, child-like determination painted all over her face. “It’s just good, yeah, that there’s someone out there taking care of the scary things. When I grow up, I want to be strong just like you and Mrs. Pie. Then I could protect Dad, and everypony else as well.” Lilypad nodded once to herself then ran back down the stairs before Rarity could respond. What a peculiar little girl, she thought. She wasn’t entirely convinced there wasn’t something going on with Lilypad, but there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment. Maybe she’d send Rainbow Dash to check on Parish-By-The-Sea once she was home. She closed the door and returned to the washroom, determined to get properly clean and enjoy some real sleep. - The sun had long since set over Canterlot. Princess Celestia, who was finding it harder and harder to sleep with each passing year, was lying snug as a bug in her massive four-poster bed, still quite awake. The lamp on her nightstand, at this point an ancient artifact, was casting a soft yellow light over both her and her somewhat questionable reading material. The magazine in question–bearing the ostentatious title The Royal Splash–was undoubtedly one of the seediest and most scandalous tabloids currently in circulation amongst the Canterlot elite. Luna and Twilight had both made it quite clear–in their own separate ways–exactly what they thought about The Royal Splash and all its ilk. Twilight, in particular, had expressed a surprising amount of disdain when Celestia had accidentally admitted in passing conversation to her guilty reading pleasure. She’d found her old student’s flustered reactions endearing but was frankly much too old to let the opinions of others stop her from having a good time. At least Cadance thought it was funny. The article that currently held her attention with such gleeful ferocity was a long and sordid expose on a quite fictitious love affair between herself and a certain Duke Poppingstomp. The fact that she’d barely exchanged more than a dozen words in person with the Duke did not stop the article from being deeply entertaining, and Celestia couldn’t help but giggle every time it mentioned how the two of them would hide away in various castle cupboards and engage in all sorts of inappropriate lascivious behavior. At one point, the article even insinuated that Celestia had bewitched Duke Poppingstomp’s bride-to-be with a slow acting yet deadly curse. The curse would eventually remove the young Miss Nightbloom from their lives and allow them to indulge in their illicit affair free from her presence. Celestia had snorted rather loudly at that part. She’d just started reading about the complicated, and very illegal, money games behind the affair when she was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Not even a second later, Luna, not bothering to wait for a reply and looking as composed and disinterested as ever, let herself in. She closed the door behind her and sat down in one of Celestia’s winged armchairs. “Sister, I have need of your counsel,” she said. Celestia closed her magazine and sat up a little straighter. “You seem distressed,” she said. Even though Luna looked nothing of the sort, Celestia could tell. “I can send for some tea, if you’d like or maybe something a little stronger?” “That is quite alright. I do not think this should wait.” There was a slight strain to Luna’s voice that Celestia was unaccustomed to, but she did her best to keep her concern from showing. Luna opened her mouth, but didn’t immediately speak, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Rarity had a dream,” she finally said. “Not quite a nightmare, but the quality of the dream was peculiar to me and seemed to be causing her some distress. I attempted to enter the dream to ease her mind, but I found the way barred. I thought at first that she was keeping me out on purpose. I know Twilight has taught her how to close her mind to outside influence, and I’ve helped her a bit myself as well. I cannot blame Rarity for erecting barriers. We have both, after all, struggled with the power of intrusive… dreams in the past. “I was content to leave it at that. She is strong, and if she did not feel the need to seek assistance then who am I to force it upon her. But something about the way in which the dream had been made inaccessible concerned me, and the longer I dwelled on it the more I felt certain that some outside force had trapped her and was keeping me out. “With some effort, I was able to penetrate her dream, and what I experienced was highly disconcerting. The dream itself remained... hazy to me. I could not see clearly or make out any details. But I was at least certain of the presence of ancient magic, such as I have not felt in many centuries. The force of this magic buffeted me and tossed me about as if to expel me from Rarity’s mind. Celestia, I am not ashamed to say that I felt sickened and frightened at its touch.” “I...” Luna hesitated again, before continuing. “I do not believe that the force trying to expel me was the cause of Rarity’s dream, as I sensed something far older and more powerful at the center of her mind. I cannot say what it was, only that the repugnant magic seemed determined to keep me from reaching Rarity. “I roused myself from sleep to escape its grasp, but the experience has shaken me. I had always thought myself the ruler of the Dreamscape. The notion that there is some power skulking about in the night strong enough to repel even me is troubling. As for Rarity, it seems as if she awoke shortly after I did. At the very least, I cannot sense her mind in the dreamscape at the moment.” Celestia wasn’t sure how to respond. What Luna had told her was definitely distressing, and she was grateful that her sister had come to her to discuss it. But Luna was the expert on dreams, not Celestia, and she didn’t know what advice she could offer that Luna hadn’t already thought of herself. She said as much. “Dreams are your domain, Luna. I’m not sure that any insights I provide would be particularly useful.” Luna frowned at the floor. “That is not an unexpected response. I had hoped that perhaps something in my description of the magic I encountered would be familiar to you. You have always been a better student of the arcane than I. We should warn Twilight and the others in any case. It seems at least certain that something is moving against the Elements, and I do not like the feel of it in the slightest.” Celestia nodded. “I’ll send a letter to Spike in the morning. Rarity won’t be home for at least another week, but perhaps, if you could contact her in her dreams and get a better idea of what she experienced, it might shed some light on the situation.” Luna was chewing on her tongue, deep in thought, but stood up to leave. “It is a good thing that Twilight now has her own guard. She was much too flippant about traditional security measures for far too long. It is good she came around.” Celestia hid a grimace from her sister. “Let us hope they won’t have much to do.” She waited for Luna to leave before getting out of bed and walking over to her bookshelves. She pulled several dusty volumes from the bottom shelf and placed them on the small reading desk she kept for just such occasions. She started with Arcanum Vol. 3 - Pre-Equestria and was still reading by the time she was due to raise the sun.