A priest was a servant of their god. That was truer for the Pythia Celestia than most others. She didn't know how prior high priestesses of the Temple of Delphi had experienced their prophecies, but Apollo spoke to her through visions of serving him directly. Maritime affairs cast her as his cupbearer, seeing expeditions sail in the sea-dark wine. While she mended his robes, the thread-providing Fates would gossip about individual mortals’ destinies when not criticizing her stitching. When she prepared his ambrosia, the contents of the divine pantry foretold the size of future harvests.
Celestia had served many roles for her god over the years. She had thought she had experienced every aspect of aiding the household of the sun. Thus, when she found herself standing outside, the splendor of Olympus undercut by what sight and smell both told her was a stable, she was understandably a bit surprised.
When she realized that the sun wasn’t setting so much as coming right at her, she felt the startled yelp was more than a little justified.
As the brilliant light descended, it resolved itself as a golden chariot pulled by four stark-white stallions with manes of fire and eyes full of madness beyond that of most horses. Some soul-deep part of Celestia felt a strange sense of recognition, but she could not examine it further before the chariot rolled to a stop beside her.
With the unthinking certainty of a dream, she worked to unhitch the stallions, ready to brush and feed and water them. She had never acted as Apollo’s stablehand before, but he always imparted the knowledge she needed to meet his needs, the prophecies her payment for services rendered.
“Hold, girl.”
Celestia went still. In all her years, her god had never spoken to her directly. She simply knew her orders.
She thought to pray for mercy, but the one she would pray to still stood before her. She kept her gaze on the ground and said, “My Lord?”
“Your next visitor is important as few have been," said Apollo, his words soft but unmistakable. "A daughter of a distant cousin of ours, by heart if not by blood.”
Sheer confusion was enough to loosen Celestia's tongue. “‘Ours,’ Lord?”
Mercifully, her master didn't seem to mind. “A long story there. That Macedonian brat will— Ah, but that’s centuries off." The wheels of the chariot creaked as Apollo disembarked. Celestia tried not to tremble, from anticipation as much as fear, as she heard his footsteps approach her. "The details aren’t your concern, girl. What is is what tell to her. I’d show you, but this one’s a special case.”
Perhaps another might ask why, but such doubts would make for a poor priestess indeed. Celestia nodded and listened. Soon enough, she understood as much as she was meant to.
There was an order to things in consulting the Oracle of Delphi. Rites of purification for both priestess and supplicant, symbolic use of the laurel leaves where Apollo dwelt, sacrifices to make and traditions to observe.
Judging from all the shouting as Celestia left her trance, the potent vapors that allowed her to commune with the divine still burning the back of her throat, someone was in no mood for any of them.
A slim youth burst into the sacred adyton and shoved aside the current petitioner, a rich trader from Athens, like a willful slave. As the man crumpled against the wall, Celestia descended from her golden tripod, taking in the intruder.
It was clear at a glance that she was a young woman. Despite efforts to bind her chest and don men's garments, her beauty was too great to pass for a man. Hair like a sunset and skin as golden as Apollo's own marked her as the one for whom this prophecy was meant.
Celestia smiled. The intruder balked. “How? How can you be here?”
Two priests rushed in after the intruder, but stopped when Celestia shook her head. “I am not who you think I am. A distant cousin. A pale reflection. The Sun’s master speaks through me, but I do not claim its mastery.”
“Then how did you..." The woman rolled her eyes. "Whatever. At least I know you're the real deal. I just ask you a question, right?"
Celestia couldn't help but grin. The intruder's irreverence was oddly refereshing. "There is usually more to it than that, but in this case, yes."
"I'll take it. This land seems to despise ma— women." She paced about the chamber, her cadence becoming almost rhythmic as she recited something she'd long practiced. "In the halls of learning, I am less welcome than an animal. Recruiters laugh at the idea of giving me a spear. Merchants don’t trust me to so much as hold an abacus. There is no place for me here, and I cannot seek somewhere better. Not if I am to ever return to my home.”
Celestia kept her thoughts about temper being a factor to herself. “I see. You seek guidance.”
“I would have sought to understand your gods. The temples were some of the few places that didn’t sneer at my existence. But you…" The woman took a long look at Celestia, the regret and resentment warring in her heart clear on her face before she turned away. "You may not be her, but you're close enough that I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to.”
“Wise Apollo foresaw your arrival." Celestia allowed herself a small smile. "You have a unique opportunity, Sunset Shimmer.”
Sunset was better at hiding any shock she felt at Celestia knowing her name. “Do I?”
That got a nod. “You are outside of the Fates’ design. You have what few mortals can ever claim: A true choice.”
“I’ve tried making a choice," Sunset said with a sneer. "No one lets me.”
Celestia continued, heedless of the interruption. “Your path forks before you. Down one road, you enter the door home when next key-holding Hecate opens it. The one who I resemble will welcome your return.”
Once more, Sunset's inner turmoil leaked into expression. After several moments of thought, she shook her head. “I can’t. It would mean she was right. I wasn’t ready to stand by her side. If I go crawling home now, I might never be." She clenched a fist, lips pursued and eyes narrowed. "When I return, it must be in triumph.”
All as Apollo had foreseen. “The other road then. You must travel north, past Olympus and into the deep wilds.”
Sunset crossed her arms. “Must I? And what will I find there?”
“Purpose.”
Silence reigned for a few moments. The priests quietly escorted the trader out, explaining how the will of the gods had decreed he would not be reimbursed for the goat or the consultation fee.
At last, Sunset said, “That’s it?”
Celestia held her stare. She had seen far worse in those who had been less than satisfied with their fates. “It is more than you will find anywhere else in this world.”
Sunset's lips quirked at some private joke. “You know, you should give yourself more credit.”
“Oh?”
The young woman turned to leave, but not without throwing one last barb that would haunt Celestia for months. “You’re just as insufferable as the Celestia back home.”
To Sunset’s disgust, she found herself following the ersatz Celestia’s suggestion. To her greater disgust, preparing for the trek north was one of the least bothersome tasks she’d ever undertaken since coming to this world. All she had to do was say that she was following a prophecy and people would fall over themselves to fetch her supplies for the journey.
She had no plans to revere the local gods—even before finding another Celestia, she wouldn't have done it sincerely—but she still left an offering at a shrine to Apollo as she set out. Worship was one thing; simple gratitude was another.
Apparently it wasn’t enough; if the gods’ favor had fallen on her preparations, it had missed the actual journey. Several days into it, Sunset found herself wishing she’d accepted the horse one merchant had offered her. Treating something so close, yet so far to another pony as a beast of burden deeply unsettled her, but it would have offered both an easier way to travel and someone to talk to.
More than that, Sunset wished for some of the Equestrian conveniences she had taken for granted before finding herself in this backwards world. Like a compass. She’d been able to go north reliably by keeping the rising sun on her right, but then she’d come upon the forest. In hindsight, maybe she should have gone around it. At the time, she’d pressed on, telling herself that a few trees weren’t going to stop her. She still stood by that, but she’d passed “a few trees” two days ago. Now, with the sun swallowed by tangled branches until noon, she longed for a team of earth ponies with chainsaws, or maybe an open-minded dragon who would burn the place to the ground on commission.
Sunset was no woodsmare, and the supplies that had seemed excessive as she’d set off were dwindling at a worrisome rate. A treacherous part of her mind considered the remaining food and water and determined that if she could find her way out of the woods quickly, she might be able to make it back to that shoreline outcropping where she’d entered this world in time for the portal to reopen.
Another part recoiled at thought of crawling back to the true Celestia.
That first part brought up the Sunk Cost Fallacy.
“Hey, you okay?" The voice brought Sunset out of her indecision, letting her notice her head had tilted down and her world was filled by brown eyes. "If you stand there any longer, spiders are going to start using you as web support.” The eyes pulled back, revealing a girl Sunset's age—a young woman by local standards—with bushy green hair and skin of a brighter matching hue. Strands of ivy were braided into her hair, and even her chiton matched, though there it was hard to tell whether it had been intentionally dyed or had just gotten very thoroughly stained.
“Who, what, how…" Sunset shook her head, gathered her thoughts, and scowled at the newcomer. "Actually, yes, all of those. Who are you, what are you doing here, and how did you get here?”
The other girl raised an eyebrow. “I’m a local, I live here, and I walked over while you were doing your best statue impression. What are you doing here?”
Sunset squared her shoulders and put all two inches of height advantage she had on this girl to use. “I was given a prophecy by the Oracle of Delphi, who told me that I would find a great purpose to the north,” she proclaimed, confident that it would cow the girl the same it had everyone else she'd told.
The girl didn't even blink. “There’s a lot of north, you know.”
“I’m aware,” Sunset ground out.
A green arm stretched out towards the northern horizon, or at least the three ponylengths before the next tree. “You’re not going to run out of it for a long time.”
Sunset felt an eyelid twitch. “I’m aware.”
“Also, did this oracle say ‘a great purpose’ or just ‘a purpose’?”
"She..." Sunset's mouth hung open for a moment as she thought back to the half-remembered conversation she'd only half paid attention to at the time. “Does it matter?” she said, crossing her arms. "A purpose is a purpose."
“Not really," said the green girl. "There are a lot of purposes in a forest, but most of them involve getting eaten by something. I wouldn’t call that ‘great.’”
Sunset found herself split. On the one hand, this girl was infuriating. On the other, she both had a spine and actually listened to Sunset, which was more than could be said for most humans. “What’s your name?”
“Wallflower.”
“I’m Sunset." She looked around the trackless forest and reconsidered the variables that had paralyzed her. "You live here, right?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Do you know anywhere where someone might find a greater purpose? One that doesn’t involve getting eaten by anything?”
Wallflower shrugged. “Everyone gets eaten eventually, by decomposers if nothing else." One sandaled foot kicked at the leaf litter. "Circle of life.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Little bit," Wallflower said with a grin. "You’re the best company I’ve had in a while.”
“And your response to that is antagonizing me.”
That got another shrug. “I never said I was good company.”
Sunset snorted. "You must be starved for it if you think I’m any better. Not many friends?”
“Most of them are plants."
Against anyone else, Sunset might have had a barb for that. But the way Wallflower had said it so matter-of-factly, so devoid of shame or self-consciousness or bizarre pride, all she could get out was "Oh."
"Besides, you’re not so bad." Wallflower gave the widest smile Sunset had seen on her yet, dappled sunlight playing across her freckles. "It’s like having a little ray of sunshine find her way down through the canopy.”
"Oh." It wasn't the first time someone had flirted with Sunset in this world. It was the first time it didn't feel like they expected her to spread her legs within five minutes of hearing it. She cleared her throat and ignored the rising heat in her cheeks. “In all seriousness, do you know anywhere where I can do something meaningful? And don’t say that filling a belly is meaningful.”
“It is for whatever has the full belly." Wallflower held onto a serious expression for a beat before flashing an insufferably, delightfully smug grin. "But yeah, I can think of a place for the kind of purpose you were thinking of." Genuine unease crept across her face. "Fair warning, it’s a few days away.”
"Uh huh." Sunset crossed her arms. “Don’t suppose you can tell me what it actually is? I got my fill of vague promises from the Oracle.”
“The favored shrine of a goddess. One who lives there.”
“Not Olympus?” Sunset didn't know the finer points of the divine mysteries, but even she had heard of the mountain said to be the home of the gods.
Wallflower shrugged. “It’s complicated. And if we're going, we might as well start." She turned and headed off more to the west than Sunset had planned on.
"I didn't—" Sunset grunted and caught up to her only lead. “Kind of forcing the issue, aren't you?"
"We could stand there all day talking about it, or you could see for yourself."
Sunset silently acknowledged the valid point by moving to another topic. "You don’t strike me as the priestess type.”
Wallflower shrugged. “That's because I'm not. It's complicated.”
“Complicated relationship with a god.” Sunset sighed. "Yeah, I know how that feels."
“You do?”
Sunset bit back a curse. She was getting too cozy with a girl she'd just met. “It’s a long story.”
“Like I said, we’ve got a ways to go." Wallflower poked her in the ribs. "Besides, you're the one who brought it up.”
“It’s going to sound crazy,” Sunset said, looking away while rubbing her side. The tingling was just psychosomatic.
Wallflower snorted at that. “I talk to plants, remember? Even the ones who don’t talk back.”
The statement hung in the air until it made Sunset's brain itch. She couldn't help herself. “Which ones do?”
That got a grin. “Tell me about your god friend and I’ll tell you all about them.”
Sunset bit her lip in thought, considering the days of travel ahead, the moons of keeping her very identity to herself, and the first tolerable company she'd found since she lost her horn. Finally, she said, “Okay. Though 'friend' isn't how I'd put it. To begin with, I’m actually a unicorn…”
This world had seemed full of potential at first, a vast other world ripe for exploration and exploitation. Then Sunset had found that not only had she lost her magic, she’d lost any hope of respect from virtually anyone in power by virtue of her gender. That had made the vast frontier and whispered other kingdoms so much ash in her mouth.
Wallflower and the forest both presented the same sense of promise that this whole world had held at first. The other woman knew the woods front to back. Sunset had only ever discovered trees, trees, and more trees, but Wallflower guided her through breathtaking clearings, crystal-clear rivulets, and the kind of natural splendor that in Sunset’s experience required a dedicated team of earth pony gardeners and a budget that could buy the average Equestrian village.
The first night under the stars, with soft earth under her bedroll rather than a tangle of roots and rocks, was the best sleep Sunset had had in weeks.
When not struck dumb by the beauty around her, Sunset told Wallflower about her home, and learned much about her guide in turn. Tales of the Royal Gardens captivated her, while she met the splendor of Castle Canterlot itself with indifference, and boasting about Equestria’s technological achievements…
“So the engine burns coal to—”
Wallflower stumbled to a stop and leaned against a tree. She held up one hand while the other clutched at her stomach. “Please stop before I throw up.”
Sunset wasn’t one to let others tell her what to do, but alienating one of the few humans she’d ever met who she didn’t immediately despise was clearly a bad move. And seeing Wallflower in such distress…
She was above such puling weaknesses as guilt, of course, but seeing that freckled face screwed up in disgust was enough to convince her to stop. "Sorry if it was a little intense." She held out a hand.
"That's definitely one way to put it." Wallflower stuck out her tongue and gagged, still looking greener than usual. She took the hand, and Sunset shouldered her weight instead. "And you have magic on top of all that?"
Sunset sighed. "I did, yes. Don't have either now. Or any kind of respect. The moment anyone sees I'm female, first thing they ask, 'Where's your husband?' Like I'm even attracted to humans. No offense."
That got a confused blink as Wallflower straightened up and they resumed walking. "None taken?"
"Sometimes I wonder how some of the idiots would react if they learned I came from an inexpressibly more advanced society run by a mare. Assuming they'd even believe me. It's not like anyone here's ever heard of an alicorn, and from what I've heard, even the unicorns of this world are just animals. Kind of want to see one, but I'm not dragging myself to the other end of the world for another existential crisis." Sunset shuddered. "Seeing my first horse was bad enough."
Wallflower nodded and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I've been there."
"You have?" Sunset could have let go of Wallflower at any point, of course. She just chose not to. For reasons.
"What do you know about nymphs?"
That got a shrug. "We don't have any in Equestria, and I haven't had much opportunity to study magical life in this world. What are they?"
"Less than gods, more than mortals."
That sounded somewhat familiar. "Spirits?"
Wallflower gave a noncommittal sound. "It's as good a term as any. Nymphs are tied to natural places, stars, plants..." She swept a hand over the forest, moving to shade her eyes as they moved into another dazzling hole in the canopy. "Generally wherever there aren't any people."
Sunset smirked. "Sounds good to me."
"Right?" Wallflower said with a laugh. That soon gave way to a sigh. "But the thing is, not every place or thing that can have a nymph does." She ran her free hand over a flowering bush. "Anthousai are flower nymphs, but there isn't one for every single lavender blossom. I didn't realize that for a while. I once spent an afternoon talking to a hyacinth before I realized it wasn't just a really good listener."
"Oh." Sunset really wasn't sure what to say about that. It was certainly interesting, but...
Her train of thought shifted tracks as they moved back into shade, contemplating some of the ivy winding its way across branches, and the way spots on its leaves so perfectly matched the freckles on Wallflower's cheeks.
"We're almost there."
"We are?" The last few days had flown by.
Wallflower nodded and pointed to a curtain of moss and ivy hanging in front of them. "Through there." She kept walking, but came to a halt when the hand Sunset held tugged against the unmoving other girl. Wallflower looked back. "Sunset?"
"So... you talk to nymphs," said Sunset, half to herself.
"Well..." Wallflower gave a hesitant nod. "I do, yeah. A lot more often than I talk to humans. Or unicorns. There weren't many of either around here. Why?"
Sunset took a long look at the girl-shaped creature who knew this primeval forest like the back of its hand and cursed herself for her own herd-species gullibility. She let go of its hand and took a step back, ready for many more. "That ivy isn't just braided into your hair, is it?"
That got a drawn-out sigh as Wallflower ran a hand through her hair. "I had thought the whole 'green on green' thing might have been a tipoff, but I guess that's what happens when the gods keep telling themselves 'Just one more mortal dalliance won't hurt.' Humans used to be various shades of brown. Now look at them."
"What are you?" said Sunset.
"Does it matter? We've been having a great time until now."
"We have," Sunset allowed. "Up until now, you've been the one pleasant surprise I've had since I came to this world. But it'd certainly matter if it turns out you've just been luring me into your lair to devour me or something, Ms. Everything-Gets-Eaten."
Wallflower quirked an eyebrow. "Do you get a lot of that kind of thing in Equestria?"
Sunset risked another step back. "Depends on where you go. Some parts get pretty wild."
That got a smirk that nearly sent her bolting. "Maybe it's not so bad after all."
"You're not filling me with confidence, Wallflower."
"Ugh, fine." Wallflower held up a hand. "I swear on the Styx that there really is a temple to a goddess in here, and that you'll be safe there."
Sunset didn't need a horn to feel the way the world shifted a little on its foundations at that oath. She let herself relax, if only a little. "Okay. I'll take it."
"Good," Wallflower said with a flat look, "because I don't know what else I could do to convince you."
"Sorry, it's just... This is still a strange land where I barely understand anything, and I can't be too careful. But whatever you are, Wallflower, you've been good to me. I was wrong. Or I hope I was wrong, anyway. You understand, right?" Sunset held out her hand.
Wallflower looked at it for an uncomfortably long time, enough for it to shake as Sunset kept it extended. Finally, she took it, dragged Sunset to her with startling strength, and wrapped her in an embrace. There wasn't anything Sunset could do about it, but there wasn't anything she wanted to do about it. "Yeah, I understand. Of course you're going to be a little skittish. You're a horse."
"Pony," Sunset said automatically.
"That too."
After a few moments, Wallflower let her go. Sunset looked back to the natural curtain of the shrine. "Anything I should know ahead of time? Don't want to incite her wrath or anything."
That got a shrug. "She's not that wrathful. Not really one to stand on ceremony."
Sunset contemplated that for a moment. "A goddess who isn't one for ceremony?"
Wallflower rolled her eyes and stomped over to the ivy, dragging Sunset there by the hand. "Look, do you want a purpose or not?"
Sunset looked from Wallflower to the plants to the warm hand in hers, then took a deep breath. "Fine. Let's do this."
Each of them brushed aside part of the curtain, revealing an immense willow tree whose boughs stretched wider than the temple at Delphi. Its still-living trunk had the form of a throne, not carved but grown. A throne that sat empty.
"Where—" Sunset's question got cut off as Wallflower walked towards the throne, her sandals left undone behind her.
A surreal trick of perspective played out, Wallflower seeming to stay the same size as she approached. Her toes dug into the soil without breaking her stride, until she glided along while connected to the rich earth beneath. Her legs intertwined as bark crept up them, spreading out to the rest of her body once it reached her torso. The ivy in her hair writhed and joined it, both building into a great mane of vibrant growth that culminated in five branches sprouting out like antlers. When she turned to sit, her face was a mask white as holly, her eyes green pinpricks of light in dark voids.
"So," she said, her unchanged voice stranger than anything Sunset had just witnessed. "To answer your earlier question, I am Gaea. I am the ground and all that springs from it, the living things that struggle and flourish, the..." She sighed and leaned on one arm of the throne, waving a hand in the air. "Look, you get the idea. Long story short, I'm a goddess. A really old one that most people don't really think about anymore."
Sunset managed to close her mouth, swallowed, and began to approach the throne herself. She tried not think about the sheer scale involved, utterly failed, and took refuge in irreverence. "I mean, I gathered the goddess part when you sat in the chair without worrying about her showing up."
That got a wonderfully familiar snort. "Yeah, fair point." Gaea gestured, and Sunset found herself at the foot of the throne. She blinked as her vision doubled, finding herself both staring up at a titanic figure and just looking at Wallflower leaning against the tree's trunk. "I'll be honest, Sunset, I sent you here."
Too busy trying to reconcile the split, Sunset couldn't even fake confidence. Her jaw dropped again. "You what?"
"With very few exceptions, I am the mother of all life on this world. I knew there was someone here with no connection to me the moment you set foot on that beach." Sunset's sight settled on a shrugging Wallflower. "It took a while to arrange it, but my great-grandson owes me a few favors after he grabbed Delphi out from under me."
The mortal guise didn't make the comment any easier to handle. "Great-grandson."
"Apollo."
"No, I got that, just..." Sunset brought a hand to her forehead. "I just need a moment to process it."
Wallflower nodded. "Yeah, that's fair. Is going back to you-sized helping?"
"A little." Sunset slumped down next to her, trying not to think about any of the implications of the act.
"Ugh, I messed this up real bad." Wallflower buried her face in her own hands for a few moments. "Look, it's just been me and the nymphs out here for a long time. I haven't been involved with the other gods since Zeus took the throne. Politics, yuck." She stuck out her tongue.
"Look, just..." Questions clamored for attention in Sunset's mind. She went for the biggest ones she thought she could handle. "Why bring me here? Why go to all this trouble? Yes, I'm from another world, but you make it sound like you are this world. What could you possibly have to gain from me?"
"Sunset, even I can only talk to the same dryad so many times before I want to scream. You're new. You're not from around here. You're interesting." Wallflower shrugged. "Isn't that enough?"
It was like candy for Sunset's ego. The rest of her still wanted to see the ingredient list. "Sure, I'm pretty great, but I can't promise much. Princess Celestia's over a millennium old, but compared to you, even she must seem like a child."
"That's where the other part of the plan comes in."
"The other part of the plan?"
Wallflower cleared her throat, looking up at the branches overhead. "The part I may have made up over the course of this afternoon."
Sunset gave that a lopsided grin. "Really filling me with confidence here."
"Like I said, I don't get involved with the other gods anymore. But I know there are other places out there. Kind of hard not to." Wallflower got to her feet and spread out her arms. "But I don't just want to be them, I want to experience them, like a mortal would."
"You want to see the world," said Sunset.
"Yeah!"
"You. The embodiment of the world."
Wallflower rolled her eyes. "I know how dumb it sounds, but it should be fun. And it'll be a lot more fun with a friend. Plus, I do have one more thing I can offer."
"You've sold me as it is." Sunset would gladly push back her timetable to go back home for a chance to actually enjoy this world, especially with a goddess at her side. "What more could I ask for?"
"See, you say that, but I still think you'll like this." Wallflower snapped her fingers.
The world smeared for a moment, sending Sunset stumbling. By the time she recentered herself and stood up, she found herself on four proper hooves, the way the Author had intended. A horn hung at the top of her vision, and when she turned to look, her cutie mark was back in its proper place. She reared up in joy and shouted her thanks.
"Reeheehehehehe!"
She paused halfway through wheeling her hooves and settled back with a thud. "Prrfft? Nreeheee snrtt." She leveled a half-lidded glare at Wallflower.
That got a shrug. "Hey, this is a new one for me. It'll take a few tries."