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// Interlude I: I Ask Thee Another Question. 
// Story: Twilight's Soul Floats Ever Deeper Into Space 
// by Rain_Flick3r 
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‘And lo, the spire has been noticed by youthful eyes. Gazing at the stars, stars to which secrets of the universe are housed. Yet, such a star is close, ever close to the innocence of ponykind, which has hungry minds, longing eyes, and yearning hearts of inquisitive souls.  Yet here I stand, standing at the brink of a world so pure of faith, love, and harmony. 

Ye little ponies, little ponies of harmony, who give their very exertion to live in the morrow, a morrow of hope, of love, of loyalty, of devotion, of bright summer days. Yet, I am beset with fear,  for that morrow may never come. I fear for your very souls, fear for the coming days of pain, agony, and torment. For I foresee the world being forcibly changed, changed to an unrecognizable mound of molten ash.

For she is close, closer than you all realize. Though she sleeps, sleeps ever quietly, she still hears all. For she is awake, awake, and aware. Not for her body but for her spirit. She ever gazes down upon your planet with disgust, disgust of the highest and most foul ambition.

I beg ye to not explore, not to explore the spire. For your minds will reel, reel at the thought of a new prospect, a new life, a new discovery. All you will find is a being, a being ever trapped in her prison of iron, locked away to be forgotten. Yet, you will try to find a reason to pursue her. 

She be the very reason, the very reason why a world so distant and old housed her in this iron prison. For she was tyrant, a tyrant most evil.

Her magic corroded her world, corroded it with vile poison, drying heat, and turning the wastelands to blackened miasmatic crystal. Her world was once a world of life, life so full, it was verdant of nature. Till that fateful day, a fateful day of prosecution, a prosecution so demoralizing, that she was placed deep within her monarchy’s castle gallows. Never to see the light of creation.

Yet, here I stand, standing at the brink of a new future, a future so frail, that it may collapse into itself. For I beg the question.

Would you be able to prepare for the day Her Majesty wakes afresh?’