//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Darkness in the North // by Commissar Rarity //------------------------------// First night of the new moon. Rocky stared into the inky darkness of the sky, frowning as he did so. He himself was a dark pony, and he blended into the night like a shadow. The wind blew and its bite chilled him to the bone. He shifted the burden on his back, feeling the weight move from one side of his haunch to the other. The package he bore was a heavy one, bound for Bastion. The weight didn’t affect him too much – he was a rather large pony and used to such burdens. It was vital he get there as soon as possible. Everything depended on it. Or at least his pay did. This was why he decided to take the shortcut through Necropolis. Rocky shivered, not because of the cold, but because of the thoughts of Necropolis that danced through his head like taunting demons. He hated being near Necropolis in the daytime, but at night when there was no stars and no moon? He made his way through the dark ruins slowly, moving by feel and memory. There were holes here, holes that went down deep, deep into the heart of the world. Falling down them would put quite a damper on your day, I think. He almost fell down one of these holes despite his caution, the weight of his burden pushing him slowly towards the edge. He recovered, heart pounding at the near disaster. Moving more carefully after that point, he skirted the other holes he came across. Then he saw it – the Obelisk, towering above him and blacker than night itself. Had the moon been out, she would have been blotted out by its massive shape. His skin prickled as he gazed upon it, hair standing on end. If the Necropolis made him fearful, the Obelisk terrified him. It was there, it had always been there, eldritch and unknowable, uncaring of the ponies that scurried around it trying to scry its secrets. So engrossed was he in his examination of the Obelisk that he failed to notice a small pothole in the rubble. His hoof caught in it, and he jerked down, a sharp crack resonating in the ruins of Necropolis. A white-hot pang of pain arced up his leg. He fell to the ground, a sob of pain escaping his mouth. Struggling, he tried to rise again. A sharp stab of pain deterred him from that option. The cracked ground beneath him had shifted, pinning his hoof. He lay there for some time, the pain shooting up and down his leg. Then he heard the Noise. It was faint at first, a tinkling. Like hollow sticks beating on each other. The Noise grew louder, louder, until it was almost on top of him. He felt a presence behind him, a terrible hot presence. Thou art in pain? The Voice was a contradictory conundrum to Rocky. It was hollow-sounding, but throaty. Deep, but trilling. Flat but full of emotion. We can aid thee in thy travails. “Yes… please,” Rocky said through gritted teeth. Very well. We request only one thing. Rocky felt a tug at his hind legs and then felt nothing at all. Oh, Augur, how foolish you are. How noble you are. But why, oh, why did you think you would make a difference? Foolish, foolish Augur. Who is Augur? Why, Augur is a simple earth pony. A simple earth pony and a druid. Oh, long before he had another name but when he became a Brother, he took on a new name as was custom. The other druids, they kept their old names and used their new names only in council. Augur? Now he kept his new name, begone with the old. There were many of his Brothers and Sisters spread throughout the Hinterlands, but only a handful served on the Council. Eight ponies served on the Council, each one representing a spoke of the Wheel of Magic. Augur represented the Spoke of Oracles, his talent for seeing omens and performing auguries a valuable asset to both the Council and the ponies of Bastion. The council had called palaver this night for reasons unknown to Augur. Moon’s Omen, the eldest and therefore head druid, was about to speak. Not for the first time, Augur wondered who Moon’s Omen was. All the druids in the council hid their identities by wrapping themselves in voluminous hooded robes. If not for the many speeches they made, it would be impossible to distinguish even the gender of the pony. He had decided long ago that of all the druids on the council he was the only true one. Oh sure, the others took their names and performed their rituals. But Augur? He was the only one who embraced his new religion. He was the only one who took on the mantle of the druid and showed the world he did not serve Celestia or Luna. The others hid their pagan ways under a veneer of civilisation, a veneer Augur had long abandoned. “..and now we come to the reason I called this meeting,” Moon’s Omen rasped, his voice croaking and rough. Whoever Moon’s Omen was, he was an old pony. Very old. “You all know of our wish. You all know that since this grove was started I have wished that ponies the world around could have the gift we share. Our wish will soon be reality. “I have divined a possible way to share the Gift, but I am still unsure of its potential. I must commune with the spirits of the Cairn. And so I say, before the moon returns to the sky we must perform a ritual there, in the Cairn. Only then can I be sure.” The old stallion’s voice could hardly be heard over the whisper of wind through the open arena. Augur frowned, his gold eyes glittering doubtfully. At no time in his auguries this week had a ritual like this been foretold. Something had happened, something to alter the threads of fate to push Moon’s Omen to this conclusion. “Share the Gift?” a wheedling voice cut through the heavy night air, piercing Augur’s ears painfully. Why did she use such an irritating voice during the meetings? “I have been on this council for years and I’ve never heard of this plot before.” “You have ears yet do not hear. Sharing the Gift has been the dream of this council for ages, Blood Rune. My father and his father before him had this dream, and I will fulfill it.” Moon’s Omen eyed the young mare, his eyes a purple gleam in the dark hall. “All eight spokes must be represented at the ritual or else it will fail.” The elder pony turned his wet purple gaze to Augur. “Is that understood, Augur?” “Indeed,” Augur said flatly. He would keep an eye on this ritual. Perhaps even miss it. “The Gift will shower on all ponies and we will together,” Moon’s Omen said. “Pegasi, Earth ponies, unicorns. All shall share the gift of using magic.” “Sharing the gift,” Augur repeated. He was sitting at a table, steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His gaze was directed outwards, towards the view out his window. There was naught outside but a few pine trees and a twitchy squirrel up past his bedtime. Daydancer paused, her own cup frozen in midair. “I can’t really believe it. I always thought we were just having playin’. A silly little game, like the Freeneighsons do.” Her voice was soft and accented with the sing-song cadence of a Haylander. “It’s just a rabbit trail. He’ll forget about it soon enough and we’ll be back to just being a silly group.” His voice took on a mocking tone as he finished his sentence. The mare said nothing; she just flicked her light pink tail back and forth. Augur had nothing to say either. They sat there silently for a while, until they finished their coffee. At that point Augur rose, kissed her on her forehead and left. Daydancer, otherwise known as Blood Rune, rubbed where he had kissed her. She wished there was a horn there. Luna stood on the terrace, her attention focused on the dark fringes of the horizon. She was to guard the night, as she had always done. Or at least, how she was supposed to have always done. Blinking, she forced that thought away and adjusted the telescope. From within the castle, she heard her sister’s voice echo, followed by the Canterlot-accented rumble of a cabinet member. “And you’re certain of this?” “I wouldn’t come to you unless I was absolutely sure, Princess. My agent has confirmed that there are magic using ponies not of the unicorn persuasion in the Hinterlands.” Luna perked up at that, turning her head slightly to see what was going on. She could see her sister Celestia, glowing white and regal as always, and Doctor Trotson, the head of the Ministry of Intelligence, a pastel blue unicorn pacing in the throne room. “This is deeply troubling,” Celestia said. “They must not know…” “I doubt they would,” Trotson replied, adjusting the collar of his pinstripe suit. “The Ministry of Magic keeps a tight lid on things like that.” He paused for a moment, looking down, rubbing his bushy mustache. “My dear Princess, I came to you not just to inform you of this, but to ask a favour of you. My agent cannot accomplish her mission on her own. Help is required. I need a powerful magician sent to the Hinterlands.” Celestia nodded. “I think I know somepony who could help, Doctor. She’s in town for the week for the magic conference but…” Her sister walked out of sight and her voice became muffled. Trotson followed her, hooves trodding softly on the carpet. Luna shook her head with a sigh. Pegasi and earth ponies abusing magic. Compared to mad draconequuses or armies of changelings she supposed that was nothing special. The world is a crazy place, she thought. That’s why I like to stay on the moon.