//------------------------------// // They Come From the Shadows // Story: Stroke of Midnight // by FanNotANerd //------------------------------// Celestia sighed, sinking back into her throne. It had been a long day of petitions from her various subjects. It seemed that both nobles and farmers alike had no end of problems, squabbles, and disputes. In all honesty, most of them could simply be directed to relevant court positions, but the solar princess had learned the hard way that ruling a nation required a more personal touch. “Who’s next?” she asked the scribe to her right. The young unicorn blinked and squinted at the registry for a moment. “Nopony. That was the last of them.” “Thank the stars,” Celestia breathed, lifting herself from the throne. It had been a long, long day. “Please send dinner to my quarters. I wish to-“ “Princess Celestia! A fine day to you!” The white alicorn looked up, at the griffon dignitary entering the throne room. Her lip curled involuntarily in distaste. While the griffons were tolerated in Equestria, diplomatic relations with them had always been lukewarm at best. The overbearing attitude of the unusual eagle-lion hybrids quickly grated on even the most stoic diplomat’s nerves. Celestia’s were no exception. She directed a quick glare at the scribe. “I thought that was the last of them!” “He isn’t on the list!” the scribe replied, flipping through his papers. “Forgive me for the intrusion,” the griffon said, fiddling with a broach at his throat. “But I have news that I must bring to your attention.” “Very well,” Celestia said. “Speak.” It was a bit coarse for her, but she’d been looking forward to a glass of mulled wine for several hours now. The griffon glanced around, at the assembled court. “I would prefer…to speak in a more private setting.” “Of course,” Celestia replied, before addressing the court. “You’re dismissed.” The assembled ponies lifted themselves from their chairs and filed out, some grumbling at the breach in protocol, most sighing in relief. The griffon paused for a long moment. “I hate to ask this of you, but your guards too. The less ears to hear this, the better. I’m not…strictly supposed to be here.” Celestia remained silent. The guard to her left shifted on his feet. “Very well. Guards. You’re dismissed.” The pegasus guard turned to her, jaw dropping. “Your Highness, you aren’t actually considering-“ “I can protect myself,” Celestia said. “I shudder to imagine what an unarmed diplomat could do to the one who controls the sun.” The guard flinched at her sudden hostility, making a pang of guilt claw at Celestia’s heart. He was just doing his job, after all. It wasn’t proper to displace her stress on him. She lowered her tone. “If you wish, you can stay outside the room. But I don’t have any worries.” The armored pegasus nodded sharply. “By your will, Princess.” The griffon remained silent until the door closed behind the last of the guards, leaving them alone in the vaulted chamber. “Forgive me. I haven’t even introduced myself. Aurora Silverwing, at your service.” “A pleasure,” Celestia said dryly. “Might I ask what an ambassador of the Griffon Empire is doing here?” “Oh, you must be mistaken,” Aurora said. “I am not an ambassador. I merely bring a message. A warning, of sorts.” “Very well. What is this message?” Aurora cleared his throat, and quickly wet it with a drink from a hip flask. He wiped his mouth and offered the flask to Celestia. “This may take some time. You look thirsty.” The door at the end of the throne room opened, and a unicorn servant walked in, levitating a small dish, upon which was perched a small bottle of wine and a goblet. "I was under the impression that there would be no interruptions," Aurora snarled, eying the unicorn nervously. "This was just unfortunate timing," Celestia said, accepting the glass of wine. "I take some wine at this time just about every day." She frowned at the servant. "Are you new to the staff? I haven't seen you before." The unicorn bowed. "I was brought in nearly a week ago. Just chance that you haven't seen me yet, I suppose." Celestia flicked her eyes down to a red spot on the servant's plain white shirt. "Did you spill some wine on yourself?" The unicorn tensed for a moment, eyes flicking toward Aurora. "I...suppose so. Please excuse me. I'll just..." Celestia frowned after the unicorn as he scurried toward the door, taking a sip of the wine. It was a pleasant spiced variety, well aged. Although it had an odd sour undercurrent to it... "You were saying?" she said, taking another sip. Merciful heavens, but she was thirsty. Aurora smiled slightly. “You seem impatient. A delicate matter such as this cannot be rushed.” At that point, Celestia lost what little patience she had left. “Out with it,” she snapped. “You came into my court unannounced and demanded an immediate and private audience. There must be a reason for this secrecy, and I want to know it now.” The griffon’s infuriatingly calm demeanor never so much as slipped. “Be patient, for there are many things I must explain.” XXX Twilight jerked her head up from the book, blinking wildly. One of the pages remained stuck to her face, tearing slightly at the bottom. The unicorn winced and peeled the parchment off her face, struggling to clear her head. Then it hit her. She had fallen asleep. When she was in the middle of researching! Son of a…how much time did I lose? A quick glance out the window told her all she needed to know. The sun had slanted noticeably, indicating that several hours had passed. If she wasn’t already overdue, she didn’t have much time left. Twilight groaned, turning back to the book. She’d barely even gotten started. And the books she had found were less than useful. Like this one, for instance, gathered during her first pass through the shelves. It had seemed promising at first, but was really the ravings of a deluded madpony. The author drew laughably obscure connections between ancient cultures, all to back up a series of ludicrous apocalypse theories, each one more ridiculous than the last. The unicorn flipped through the book out of morbid curiosity, acutely aware that she was wasting time, but stopped on a passage that attracted her attention. It contained an illumination of several ponies, kneeling around an altar that held a large book. A monk stood before it, forelegs raised to the heavens. Several civilizations have, in fact, drawn reference to a type of darkness. It is possibly spawned by the primal fear of the dark, but images from these cultures show eerie similarities. Several hieroglyphic bas-reliefs have been discovered that depict equines and other races fleeing from a solid black object. Archaeologists first assumed the frescoes were simply incomplete, but the appearance of similar works has led them to revise their opinion. The names for this darkness vary widely. Several llama hieroglyphs describe an intrusion of Xibalba, roughly translated to “place of fear.” Zebras sometimes refer to… Twilight skipped ahead, past several more cultural comparisons. …in many of these cultures, it is depicted as an all-consuming void. Oddly enough, the Book of The Stars shows no reference to this kind of phenomenon. Instead, several scholars and monks have been presented with vague references to an entity known only as “Hunger”, which may or may not have been previously encountered. Many historians agree with the former solution, judging by the appearance of a dark void in ancient frescoes… Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly reread the passage. The Book of The Stars shows no reference… Was that it? Could that be the mysterious tome’s title? She squinted at the faded gold leaf on the cover. If you used your imagination, it almost looked like the constellation Cygnus…but then again, it could also be a simplistic flower. The unicorn sighed in defeat, slumping. Not only had she fallen asleep at the worst possible time, but now she had nothing to show for her efforts. There was no way Celestia would agree to help without at least an idea of what the book was. Twilight looked up as the door to the library opened, and somepony walked into the room. It was hard to tell, mainly because a bookshelf was blocking her view of the door, but she could easily infer that it was the guard, signaling her to leave. A moment later, the door closed again, and soft hoofsteps tracked across the library. The unicorn frowned, and went back to her book, hoping to commit one more passage to memory before leaving. Oddly enough, the hoofsteps continued to the far side of the library. Twilight scanned the page one last time, and, finding nothing useful, returned it to its place on the shelf with a heavy sigh. What a wasted opportunity… Maybe the princess could be persuaded to take a look at the tome in her free time. Yes, the unicorn thought dryly. The most powerful pony in Equestria would leap at the opportunity to research a book that makes no sense. Twilight gently opened the door with magic, making sure nopony in the corridor was there to see her leave. The hallway was deserted. Most of the nobles had likely retired to their chambers, and the tourists and petitioners to the taverns outside the castle. She walked out of the library, glancing at the entrance to the throne room, just down the vaulted corridor. Celestia was likely finishing an audience of some sort. It would be rude to interrupt. Wonder how Big Macintosh made out, she thought absently, hoof splashing in something. Twilight looked down, nose wrinkling in distaste. Who would spill wine in a castle corridor, of all places? Especially with a pair of guards there to- Only then she caught a whiff of a thick, metallic odour. She glanced down again, horrified. It wasn’t wine she was standing in. It was blood. The unicorn glanced behind her, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Both guards were lying prone on either side of the door, eyes glazing over the second mouth carved into their throats. Bristle-Lip was still kicking feebly, blood pumping out of his neck. Twilight jumped back, stifling a shriek by jamming a hoof into her mouth. She had to fight not to scream again when she realized her hoof was still slick with the guard’s blood. Bristle-Lip finally went limp, eyes tracking off Twilight and onto some point beyond the horizon. Twilight’s gorge rose, and she dry-heaved twice. The world around her spun, and started flickering at the edges. It’s just a bad dream, she tried to tell herself. You’re still asleep in the library, and everything is fine, those guards aren’t dead, but they are, this isn’t a dream, they’re dead, dead dead DEAD- Wait…then who opened the door? Eyes wide with panic, Twilight poked her head back into the library, half-expecting a blade-wielding monster to lunge out at her. Instead, all she saw was an empty library. Wait…not quite. At the far end, the bookcase blocking the secret passage to the throne room quietly slid back into place, gliding on oiled tracks. If two guards had been killed in a manner that was supposed to be silent… Twilight forced her body into action and galloped toward the throne room. She could panic later. But now…all she could do was pray she was wrong. XXX Luna stopped Macintosh before a small oak door. “This is the back entrance to the throne room,” she explained, after noticing the earth pony’s suspicious expression. “I promised I would take you there, didn’t I?” She opened the door slightly and poked her head out. Voices floated through. “She’s in the middle of an audience,” she whispered. “We will have to wait until she finishes.” “Ah’ve got time,” Macintosh replied. Luna looked out the door again, frowning. “That is good. This audience may not be over as soon as you think.” Macintosh shifted on his hooves. For some reason, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Something just felt plain wrong. XXX Celestia leaned forward in her throne. “And what proof do you have of this?” Aurora adopted a wounded expression. “What times are these, when my word is insufficient? Do you not trust me, your Highness?” “No,” Celestia replied flatly. “Which is only one of the reasons I don’t believe you. Your empire hasn’t shown the slightest hint of aggression toward us. How am I expected to believe that your armies are massing at the border, especially when my scouts have reported nothing of the kind?” “Now what kind of army would allow itself to be seen by enemy scouts?” the griffon scoffed. Celestia thought for a moment. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a single motivation the Griffon Empire would have in invading their most powerful neighbor. And nearly a dozen for making her waste resources in committing thousands of troops to border defense. She glanced at the door, frowning. The servant was still standing there, seemingly waiting for something. A grim smile was on his face. “Mark my words, Princess,” Aurora continued. “The signs are there. You just need to know where to look.” “Quite true,” the white alicorn replied. “And I now know not to look anywhere in your direction. You are dismissed.” She blinked twice. Her head was suddenly feeling strangely fuzzy. The griffon smiled slightly. “I didn’t think you would heed my warning. You’re anything if not predictable, Celestia.” “Get out of my court!” Celestia yelled, stomping a hoof. The effort made the room swim around her. She collapsed back into the throne, sweat beading her brow. Aurora smiled, striding forward. “But I didn’t come here to warn you. I came to deliver a message.” “What…what did you do to me?” Celestia panted. “Trust me,” Aurora said. “I haven’t done anything. Not yet.” At that moment, Twilight charged through the hidden entrance, horn sparking with power. The servant turned and stared at her, mouth falling open in shock. And all hell broke loose. XXX Rainbow Dash winced as yet another unpredictable gust of wind buffeted her wings, making her flight muscles scream in protest. A small part of her felt some satisfaction that Soarin was having just as much trouble as her, but the most part was concerned with finding the three fillies. I swear, if anything happened to them… Although she would never admit it, she had a soft spot for Scootaloo. She saw a lot of herself in the spunky pegasus filly, and would never forgive herself if anything happened to her. The cyan pegasus squinted through the forest canopy, wishing she could see through the densely packed foliage. “Any sign of them?” Soarin called from behind her. “Nope,” Dash replied, pulling out of a downdraft. The winds over the Everfree Forest whirled in a tortured cyclone, spawning unpredictable gusts, updrafts and currents that would throw an inexperienced pegasus out of the air in seconds. She wrenched herself back on course and bit off a few choice obscenities after being buffeted by yet another gust. “This is going nowhere,” she called. “There’s a clearing down there. Let’s just land there and search on hoof. I’m not seeing anything from up here anyway.” “I was about to say the same thing,” Soarin said, tucking his wings in and diving toward the gap in the canopy. Rainbow Dash chuckled and followed the Wonderbolt through the trees, alighting a bit clumsily on the ground. Soarin perked his ears up and glanced around, nervousness plastered on his face. The oppressive air of the forest had crept in almost immediately, bringing an uncomfortable mix of claustrophobia and lack of light. “Are you sure they went in here?” he asked. “Hay, I’d want to stay away from here.” “You haven’t met those three,” Dash said, scanning the surrounding trees. “When they plan something, they don’t back out.” Both pegasi shuddered as the wind rasped a pair of tree branches against each other. It sounded horribly similar to a whispering voice, beckoning them deeper into the trees. “We shouldn’t be here,” Soarin muttered. “Okay, relax,” Dash spat. “Seriously. You’re actually starting to get on my nerves a bit.” She snorted. “You’d think a Wonderbolt would be a little braver.” Soarin puffed his chest out, pride wounded. “I’ll show you brave,” he growled, stomping past her into the trees. Dash smiled. Seemed that had worked. Probably didn’t earn her any points with him, but it stopped his whimpering. “Applebloom!” she called, skirting a tangled bunch of roots. They looked way too much like a clawed hand for her liking. “Scootaloo!” Her voice seemed oddly muffled, as if the darkness was absorbing her voice. Against her will, she shivered. The forest was really starting to creep her out. Soarin crashed through some underbrush, and out onto an overgrown path. He squinted down at some faint impressions in the dirt. “Dash!” he said. “Over here.” He pointed to the prints. “Small hoofprints. Three sets. That’s got to be them.” Rainbow Dash nodded grudgingly. The prints were faint enough that she probably would have missed them. “How’d you even see those?” “I…was in the Search and Rescue Corps before I became a Wonderbolt,” he said sheepishly. “That’s actually where I met Spitfire.” Dash frowned, following the prints. Search and Rescue? That was certainly a surprise. “Applebloom!” she called again, filing that away for future reference. Something rustled to her right. “You see anything, Soarin?” she asked, turning… And looked directly into a pair of yellow eyes. Rainbow Dash froze, heart hammering. The eyes watched her, unblinking. She screamed at her body to move, but her limbs felt frozen, transfixed by those oddly glowing eyes. The creature took a step forward, then another, coming into the light. Dash couldn’t stop a moan of terror from leaving her mouth. It was a timber wolf. The fearsome beast was easily twice as large as normal wolves, and simply radiated ferocity. If it wanted, it could tear her throat out with a single lunge, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it. The timber wolf stared at her for another long moment, then threw back its head and howled. Dash took several steps back, backing up into a tree. Answering howls began to ring out from around the path, and more wolves began to emerge from the trees, one by one, until a full pack was arrayed around the terrified pegsasi. Dash snuck a glance at Soarin. He was also pressed up against a tree, and trembling in terror. An odd mewling sound escaped his throat. She could see his wings twitching, his muscles tensing for flight. Dash caught his eyes and shook her head. Running would only activate a hunting instinct. He’d be torn out of the sky before he managed a second wingbeat. For a moment, the pegasus looked like he was going to take off anyway, but then set his jaw and pressed his wings to his sides. “What are you waiting for!” he yelled in challenge. “Come and get me!” The wolves spared him a glance, but turned their attention back to Rainbow Dash. They seemed to be waiting for something. Dash wet her lips. “Uh…nice doggy?” A final howl echoed from behind the assembled wolves, and what could only be the leader of the pack loped out into the light. The glowing yellow eyes stared balefully at Rainbow Dash over a knotted and scarred muzzle. The pegasus’ eyes widened as a vast, unfamiliar consciousness touched her own. These are not your hunting grounds. Why have you come? It didn’t speak in words, but a series of images and sensations. It took her a moment to realize that the one speaking was the wolf. You…can talk? Many believe us to be mindless beasts. Though we are insulted by it, we do not seek to change their mind. I will ask again: why have you come? “Dash?” Soarin whimpered. “What’s he-“ Why have you come??? Rainbow Dash winced. I’m looking for somepony. Three fillies. They are with us. Safe. You seek to bring them to their pack? Well…yeah. I guess. Can we- They are lucky they met only us, and not one of the other beings that call these woods home. As are you. And your companions. Dash took to the air, hovering before the ancient timber wolf. “What have you done with Rarity and Applejack?” They are also safe. The one-of-the-earth was stubborn, but she saw reason in time. Dash shook her head in confusion, once again forgetting to think her response. “What are you?” The timber wolf responded by flooding her head with images. Running through the forest, the smell of dew on the air, fangs piercing a deer’s hide, watching from the shadows of the forest, running proud and free through a field of grass… We are hunters. We watch the wind and the trees and the stars. We are the stone and the moss that grows upon it. We have seen many things. But now our eyes have been clouded. All we see now…is blackness. The timber wolf released her mind and howled, the sound ringing both through the air and the pegasus’ mind. It carried a sense of finality, of eternity, of imposible distances traveled in the blink of an eye... Dash staggered, head spinning, suddenly overcome by the unfamiliar feeling of extreme vertigo. Just before she passed out, the wolf spoke one last time. Something has begun. Something we cannot see. And we…are afraid. XXX The moment Celestia collapsed, Luna knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She had just barely taken a step forward when Celestia’s student had charged into the room, horn throwing a brilliant red light against the walls… Scouring away the shadows cloaking two unicorns approaching the throne. Another unicorn, garbed in servant's clothing, knocked Twilight to the side with a blast of magic and raced forward to join the others. There was one reason and one reason only that ponies would want to approach the princess without being seen. Luna howled in rage and charged out into the throne room, throwing a magical barrier between her sister and the three assassins. The barrier went up just in time to deflect a swarm of magic spikes, simple weapons conjured from pure magical energy. Unfortunately for the assassins, Luna knew the same trick. The moon princess jerked her head and conjured a shining spear, sending it flying at the nearest unicorn. The assassin leapt out of the way, and the spear buried itself in the floor, cutting through stone as if it were butter. Luna didn’t waste time pulling it out. Instead, she banished it and conjured a new one. This time, she didn’t miss. The glowing spear punched through the unicorn’s neck before he had even landed, tearing through muscle and cartilage with a sickening crunch. The surviving assassins turned their attention to this more serious threat, and began hailing magical spikes at her from every direction. Luna snarled in anger, banishing the spear and focusing every ounce of her energy on deflecting the conjured weapons. Although she was powerful, much of her strength had still not returned. Even now, she felt herself weakening, although the assassins barely showed any stress at all. Blocking attacks was far more taxing than flinging them, and fending off dozens of strikes was quickly taking its toll. Macintosh had barely even taken in the situation before Luna killed the first assassin. For an instant, he held fast, unable to believe what he was seeing. Then a glowing spike got past Luna’s guard and sliced into her shoulder, prompting a grunt of pain. That galvanized him into action. The draught horse exploded out of the door at a full gallop, focusing on the closest unicorn. The assassin didn’t notice him until it was too late. Macintosh slammed into the unicorn, putting every ounce of force his fifteen-hundred pound body could muster into the triangular point of his shoulder. The impact would have probably killed an unprotected pony. But the assassin managed to throw up a weak barrier at the last second, and deflect some of the force. Macintosh fell on top of the stunned unicorn, intending to restrain him until Luna finished off the other. His plan changed when the assassin flipped out a small blade strapped to the end of his hoof and rammed it into the side of his chest. Macintosh yelled in pain and stomped down on the assassin’s horn, it being the first part he could reach. The ivory-like surface cracked, and the unicorn let out a reedy wail. He stomped again, breaking the horn off entirely, and taking part of the unicorn’s scalp with it. A jolt of wild magic ran back up his leg, making his heart stutter for a moment before resuming a normal rhythm. The effect was far more pronounced on the assassin. The unicorn convulsed, eyes rolling back in their sockets. A moment later he went limp, a dribble of yellow foam leaking out of his mouth. Behind him, Luna let out a wild cry and seized the last assassin with her magic, flinging him across the room. He struck a pillar head-first and slid down, head lolling on a broken neck. She quickly took advantage of the respite to conjure an ornate set of silver armor, which quickly affixed itself to her head, neck and chest. Less than thirty seconds had elapsed. The griffon diplomat – if he could be called that –barely had time to realize how awry his plan had gone. Luna seized the griffon in a fist of magic and pressed a newly conjured spear to his throat. “Give us one good reason not to end your pathetic existence.” The griffon’s response was not what she expected. He threw back his head and laughed. “You think I expect to leave here alive? Even if we had succeeded, I never would have left with my life. There is nothing you can do to threaten me.” “Oh, really?” Luna snarled, tightening her grip. “I can have you die in agony as your skin in flayed from your body. I can shatter your bones with but a thought.” “I cower in fear,” Aurora chuckled. Celestia forced herself from the throne, her latent magic having slowly cleansed the paralyzing poison from her body. “Luna, hold.” “He tried to kill you!” Luna snarled, pressing the spear harder against the soft flesh of the griffon’s throat. “He expected death. Let me deal it to him!” “Would you appoint yourself his executioner, sister?” Luna didn’t respond for a moment. Then, with a snarl, she banished the spear and released Aurora. Celestia approached the griffon, swaying slightly on her hooves. She was still dizzy from the effects of the poison. “I ask only this. Why?” Aurora laughed. “How can I answer? Would you have me answer for the will of the universe?” Celestia’s eyebrows met. “Give me a straight answer, damn you!” “I would ask a question of you now, Celestia,” Aurora said, ignoring her. “What really happened a millennia ago? When your sister became the nightmare?” “That is not something you should be-“ “Tell us what truly happened, Princess,” the griffon spat. “Tell us about Midnight.” Celestia froze. Then she carefully wrapped a tendril of magic around the griffon’s throat. “How do you know that name?” she whispered. Aurora only answered with a mocking laugh. “Where did you learn that name!?” Celestia roared, roughly shaking the griffon. “Tell me!” “You’re blind, Celestia,” Aurora sneered. “You don’t realize that the past is never forgotten. No matter how hard you try to erase it.” The alicorn tightened her grip, tears blurring her vision. “It wasn’t my fault,” she snarled. “You have no right to judge me!” “I have every right,” the griffon gasped. “Everyone must pay for their crimes.” “I had no choice!” Celestia screamed, shaking the griffon back and forth like a ragdoll. Aurora let out a strangled gasp, eyes bulging. A brittle crunch filled the air as his trachea collapsed under the pressure of the magical vise, inadvertently tightened in the solar princess’ fury. Celestia released him and took an involuntary step back. Aurora clawed at his throat, making a strangled wheezing sound. His eyes showed no fear. Only a strange sort of…satisfaction. The alicorn made a quick decision and snapped his neck with a whip of magic, ending his suffering; a mercy he didn’t altogether deserve. “Princess?” Celestia jerked her head up, and looked into her pupil’s terrified eyes. They were brimming with tears, and she saw herself reflected in them. Not as a figure she revered, or as a magnificent ruler. The only thing she saw reflected in Twilight’s eyes was a monster. And why should she see anything different? She had just watched her mentor, her ruler, the symbol of justice and fairness, kill a creature in cold blood. “Twilight-“ The unicorn let out a choked sob and galloped out of the throne room, tears streaming from her eyes. “Twilight, wait!” Celestia called, raising a hoof as if she could physically pull her pupil back to her side. Guards galloped into the room, weapons at the ready. The princess was dimly aware of the captain giving orders to raise the alarm and search the castle. She started after her, but was stopped by her sister. “Let her go,” Luna said. “Your comfort is not what she needs now.” Though it pained her, she knew Luna was right. Twilight needed to nurse her wounds by herself. But they may not ever heal.