"...Þa mære gedimm þam feogere,
Þa geþēot ſwēop min eorþum.
Ic āfand þæt ich ġedruncnode
Buten ich culdra wæterdíyno
Of beorca ðu þe bragtest,
Waciende þam þe me agan.
Ic náwa dugan eftcyme fram mearcpaðas
Þu áwāde ēow eryht, ic náwa eftcyme...-
The song, which melody came to her from beyond the edge of a dream, was calling to little Twilight, and so she kept going further, disregarding the strain and pain of her body.
-Þa efenlæ an benne déor,
Ic ſċeal faren þæt rápincel.
Belíefest, ic ne onman luflīċ
Þin gyte mýnra,
Þin þæt þū rincst seall,
Þa ðýra blōda dræpana, efenlæ beriga þe mēos
Æt geat, þurhfærest hit oþ færcyle dimnes.
Þu ne ġecnǣwst, þa færcyle dimnes...-
Her ears were pinned back as she warily crept through the unlit hallway, trying to make sense of it all. The Royal Palace seemed uninhabited, only darkness and a beckoning ghostly voice were here now. She understood several words of the ancient dialect. It was Old Ponish, but she never heard it sung or spoken so fluently.
"Cold, darkness"—she recognized the last two words. Was it a warning?
-Sóna dōgor cymj, þu orpunge
Súr anstór þin Mónan.
Þa ést méce ſticaþ þe heorte
Pīnness ést āhefeþ fram góman.
Þam þe þu ġeset feorhbealu
Cargást þin þēostrast ſtíele
Mihtan ic fordrenċe þone wæter,
Þone oristallisone wæter, ednīewan?-
There was no one else but Celestia who could sing like that, and her usually caring voice, so familiar since foalhood, struck Twilight as odd.
A dim light could be seen through the slightly opened doors of the Throne Room. Twilight put out her hornlight. A strangest mix of enticement and trepidation held her in a tight grasp.
She stepped through the portal.
The Princess on the far side, in plain sight.
Still in her wedding dress she was, which, embellished with gemstones and untouched and pristine, was streaming down the throne and the short stairway in front of it. Her forelegs were placed on a great golden harp, standing at her side.
She didn't acknowledge Twilight's presence. Feeling small to the point of insignificance, the alicorn kept walking, enchanted by the sight and forgetting about any danger.
-Beflīehst trendel þas brantra beorgases
Þéáh ásēċe stángeat þin reġnsċūres fela méceas.
Ne āsēċest—þu næfre āfunde eorþum
Þætte gūþbeorn þin ryge letan wiðæftan."
The former Queen's hoof touched the string of the harp for one final time, producing a solitary sorrowful sound. Unsure, Twilight took a step closer, and then the goddess slowly opened her striking, impossibly beautiful eyes.
They pierced the young alicorn's soul from beneath the veil of the gown. Celestia's voice filled the room. It was a question, a demand of an answer:
"Do you believe in destiny, Twilight Sparkle?"