//------------------------------//
// Cloister 
// Story: Siren Song 
// by TheDarkStarCzar 
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	My name is Sea Swirl, I love to go swimming in the ocean. Immersed in the waves I feel a sense of communion with Holy Neptunia. It is most fortuitous that the monastery in which I've passed the whole of my life stands above Whitebeak Bay that I might contemplate her divinity so embraced in her cardinal element. 
My name is Sea Swirl and I've lost my mind and more importantly my faith.
Maybe.
Maybe now that tells you more than is outright proper, but I feel I've no other choice but to lay out the whole of my perceptions that I, or some interested party in the future, might parse them for meaning.


I can pinpoint with an uncanny accuracy the very instant my soul began to fall into crisis. The night of the new moon when I stood within the Westerly tower of cloister overlooking the darkly sparkling bay under a jeweled ceiling of Luna's night, I started from rapt contemplation of the head nun's instructions, wholly uncertain as to what they had been and I requested her to repeat herself. She studied me for a time, her sharp crimson eyes peering into mine own as might a physician. At length she replied, "I asked what you were doing up here so late at night wearing that getup."


"In truth I have no answer," I tugged at the coarsely woven peasant's garb in consternation as if it were some foolish costume in which I'd been discovered in the midst of an ill advised prank. I  disrobed and heaped the garment aside. Beneath, I found a pair of binoculars slung 'round my neck and I discarded them as well, "My recollection of what purpose I meant to serve in coming here is somewhat hazy. I admit I am quite vexed."


"Quite vexed, huh?" Mother Sacred Song asked rhetorically, "What is this, your half flanked version of a dark ages nun? You know, forget it. It's close enough, why don't you head back down to your chambers, Sister Sea Swirl? Get some rest and we'll talk about it later."


I nodded and turned to exit the tower, kicking aside a number of rolled parchment scrolls that were piled not just around my hooves but the whole tower floor at large. I hesitated a long moment. Mother Sacred Song scrutinized me, her countenance finally softening when I asked, "Might you escort me? I seem to have lost the way."


"Yeah, no problem my baby, you're just a little confused, it'll all be better in the morning." She said and led me through the dark and winding corridors whilst humming a gentle tune. I am well and truly blessed that such a kind and noble creature as Mother Sacred Song has seen fit to take such an interest in me and guide me in my time of need, literally and figuratively, and yet, there is something of the rebel spirit of chaos within me. My heart sought to reject her kindness, screaming entreaties for me to abandon reason and to lash out and strike her. The destructive desire was most painful and it was only with the greatest difficulty that I quashed it.







Upon the morn I awoke from vivid dreams, dreams that I could not reconcile as they conflicted most harshly with the realities of my life.

Mother Sacred Song must have been mindful of my distress as she sent a sister to attend me with fresh garments and an escort to the dining hall.

Around me were seated the most glorious variety of brothers and sisters, all but a scant few clothed in a like way to mine own self, dull gray cassocks with tunnel-like cowls that allowed only the tip of the muzzle or beak to be seen. Though I knew that I'd dwelt in this monastery for the whole of my days every sight within was as novel as if I were seeing it for the first time. Forgetting my own hunger for the gruel provided, I made note of our numbers. Two dozen griffons and forty six ponies clad as I was. Six further ponies wore black cloaks with veils over their eyes as well. I attempted to spy their faces whilst they ate in mechanical synchronicity, but was interrupted in the act as Mother Sacred Song entered the hall accompanied by a singularly odd donkey of whom I will speak momentarily.


Where we wore robes to cover ourselves the old nun's humility must have been so great she required no such things for she stood bare in her turquoise coat and flowing, seaweed green mane. She looked over her silent charges, each bent to their meals save for myself and in her grace and compassion came over to see to my welfare with that odd donkey. She looked me up and down, finally asking, "Okay, so why aren't you eating?"


"I'm afraid I've little enough appetite and find my self much befuddled." I replied, "I have spent all my days in your charge and service and yet I cannot so much as remember to whose honor we are so piously dedicated."


She laughed, "Why we're the order of Neptunia, of course." Then she set before me a thick tome, instructing me to study it. Opening it I found the pages to be blank throughout and though I tried most earnestly, thinking it to be a test of faith, hoping that the Word would present itself if I were sufficiently faithful, I could do no other thing than point out it's absence of text or markings of any sort. Were I not certain it was otherwise I would have said it was a ship's log book with a quarter of it's pages torn out rather than a proper sacred text. She snickered at me, "Alright, you've been here your whole life so you should know the sacred texts like the back of your hoof, right? You should be able to write them yourself by now. Just write about Neptunia. Write everything you can remember. That'll be your task," She raised her voice dramatically, "The whole of your being until you've completed it."


"Of course Mother Sacred Song." I replied and she had the donkey fetch me a quill and ink. Setting them down before he peeked beneath the hood of my cowl, then pushed it back revealing my countenance which he seemed displeased by for he struck me most violently.


"This one!" He yelled, flexing his stunted wings, "This is the one that was snooping around with that damned griffon!" Then he struck me once more and I toppled to the stone floor. The sisters of the order scarcely reacted, perhaps not at all. I, myself, was strangely impassive, having a task and knowing that this would pass and that I was protected in the meantime by Neptunia. The donkey was in turn struck by the old nun.


"Listen you bucked up half bred jackass! That's my Celestia-damned daughter there and I damned well know about her skulking around and I've taken care of her and the bucking griffon. Now pick her back up and don't even think about laying another hoof on her. If I didn't hate having to train underlings I'd kill you for what you've done already so you best be walking on bucking egg shells around me or so help me I'll send you to Tartarus choking on your own balls, you bucking capiche?" Mother Sacred Song kindly said in my defense and the donkey picked me up and stood me on my feet like a toppled toy. Immediately I sat down, dipped my quill and tried to write. My mind was blank and my pen lingered so long as to create and inkblot an inch in diameter before I lifted it in defeat.


I overheard, whilst scrutinizing the page for the secrets it may reveal, further conversation between the donkey and the old nun in which she chastised his shriveled wings, long ears and horrid stench. I found it passing strange that a donkey did indeed have pegasus wings, functional or not and I think that I have never seen it's like before. Then again my worldly experience ends at the monastery walls, though my dreams say elsewise.


"She knows more than she ought to. Daughter or no, you really should dispose of her or at least keep her confined for the duration." The donkey encouraged and I felt some small glint of fear for this unnamed daughter, whosoever she may be. I scowled at my bespotted page, concentrating for all I was to tell what is known of Neptunia.


"Idiot, she's in a whole different world. We can say whatever we want and she won't remember any of it." Mother Sacred Song told him, "If it comes to it I'll do a more thorough job on her like I did on the rest, but I'm interested to see what she comes up with. Look at her scowling at that page, struggling to do what I told her."


"It's cruel and pointless." The donkey replied, "Not that I care, I guess. She's your daughter, you can do as you like."


"Yup, and you can get back to the preparations. We haven't got that much time left and this is the bigtime. I need it to go smooth as buttercream and it's your ass on the line if it's bucked up, ass." She kicked him in the shin and went on her way as he winced, gasped in pain, then hurried off himself.






Lunchtime came and passed me by as I sat rooted in place, eyes seeking to bore through the page I was to sanctify with Neptunia's sacred word. From the deep depths of my mind I finally drew forth the sole bit of knowledge I could unerringly state about Neptunia.


Nep•tun•ia (Nep'tōōn'ē ə) [ME. <Pgs. Neptuna] 1. Eqst. Myth. Goddess of the sea. Derived from the fictional Pegasi 'Odyssey of Commander Hurricane,' 1323 BLe. Neptunia is the stylized Goddess of the sea modeled as an aquatic counterpart to Princess Celestia she is often derisively termed an ichthycorn, combin. ichthyoid (a fish) and Alicorn. She has often been used as a satirical stand in for Princess Celestia in critical as well as comical works. Reputed to be the "Queen of the (Mythical) Sea Ponies" as well as the ruling deity of all standing bodies of water greater than 660,000 gallons. 2. A ponification of the sea itself.


I pridefully beamed over the spare paragraph as supper likewise came and went without my notice. Once the few candles had burned low and the other clergy had silently retired for the night I was approached by the old nun, "The buck are you doing out here this time of night, grinning like a foal?"


"Mother Sacred Song! Is it not grand? I have written all that I know of blessed Neptunia that I might reflect upon her words and know them all the better." I presented the book to her in a glow of magic. She took it in her own hooves and flipped through the pages, settled on my opus, the sole contents of the book, and looked to me incredulously.


"Ugh. First, call me mother from now on. All this Sacred Song horseapples is for the nosy neighbors." She slammed the book down before me, causing the three untouched bowls of gruel to clatter, "I suppose it's my fault for not being more exact in my instructions. You need to eat, drink and erm...potty, like a normal mare, okay? Sleep on the same schedule as the rest of these buck ups too, okay? I don't usually have to tell ponies these things so I don't know what your deal is."


"Yes Mother."


"Now, as for your bible. My time's a bit short, so I figure you've got just over a week. I want prose and pathos, not this dictionary drivel. If that's all you can come up with for Neptunia, how 'bout you just write whatever you remember and we'll call it an allegory, eh?" She chuckled, "That should keep you busy and out of my mane. For now, go to bed, start fresh tomorrow."


"Yes Mother."








The morning light sprang upon me and drew me from fitful dreams. Scarce had my hooves hit the floor before I took up the quill and began recounting them. I had no understanding of what I was writing, only that it was presaged by my dreams. I imagined that enlightenment might be attained once the narrative was more completely inked. I simply let the words flow so fast as I could lay it down, stopping only for restless, dream laden sleep. On the fifth day my magic failed me and my efforts were hindered by my unpracticed mouth writing.

The morning after that I collapsed on my way to the dining hall and remained splayed out on the floor for some considerable time, but I did not falter. For the glory of Neptunia I kept writing. Should my final breath be in her service I should die most fulfilled. It was not to be as I was eventually noticed by Mother and the winged donkey.


"Baby, get up off the floor." Mother said, and though I should like no thing better than to follow her directive I could not, "Why are you writing with your mouth anyway?"


"She won't eat, I think her magic gave out on her." The donkey grunted in disgust, mother said something beneath her breath, her normal humming blossomed into a full throated melody whose words I transcribed phonetically in the margins of a page towards the back of the book and then his grunts became more indicative of choking though he was not being attacked. Mother seemed unconcerned as she stood nearby, The donkey's eyes bugged and he fell in a heap at her hooves. She silenced herself for a time as he twitched and grabbed at his throat to no avail. Just as it seemed his life were to expire Mother sang out again, a few words whose beauty so affected him as to restart his breathing. I dutifully transcribed them as well for these must indeed be the words of Neptunia herself.


It was odd, however, for as the donkey regained his senses it seemed that my own were coalescing back into the forefront of my mind, screaming at me to flee whilst I could, but from what I knew not. Dutiful to these entreaties I sought to drag myself away as best I could. "Where are you going my baby?"


"Away from you, you Luna damned bucking monster!" I replied to kind Mother Sacred Song who pinned me in place like a specimen with a well placed hoof upon my spine, "Let me go! I'll bucking kill you, I swear I will bucking kill you!"


In her wisdom mother must have realized that a song would calm me as well for she sang to me a reprise of the first tune I'd transcribed and indeed it quelled my ravings. "As you were, Sister Sea Swirl, but you have to eat this time or I'll force feed you." She pointed at the donkey, "You see to it this time like I told you or I'll let the griffons peck you apart. If I hear you hurt her in any way I'll have them do it very slowly."







I was indeed force fed, but it was found that I could keep nothing down for I invariably expelled it to the last drop.


"Now what?" The donkey asked Mother, "She ain't sick, I had her checked out. I think it's psycho...psyci...all in her head."


"What's the matter my baby? Gruel don't suit you?" Mother asked and sloshed a bowl before me. I would have done well enough on gruel, I was extraordinarily hungry and I longed for any sustenance, yet when I attempted to swallow I was assaulted by imagery most similar to that which roiled my sleep.


"I fear I have not been sleeping overly well." I offered, weak an explanation as it was, I could think of no other. She took up the sacred text to which I had devoted myself. I was in the middle of the parable of the griffon and the whale and I believe it is precisely that story that she looked over before returning the book to me.


"Alright, so you're lonely. We can fix that. Georgia? Sister Georgia?" She called out and a robed griffon trotted up from the benches and presented herself to Mother, "You belong to her now. Stay by her side, comfort her, make sure she eats. Both of you head back to your room and rest. I'll have some food sent up after a while. Seriously my baby, if you don't eat soon you're gonna die and Plutonia doesn't look kindly on suicide."

"Neptunia." I corrected, which elicited a snicker from the donkey.







Whether it was Sister Georgia by my side or Mother's entreaties to save my soul I finally managed a peaceful sleep and indeed I made my way through five bowls of gruel when I awoke. Praise be to Neptunia that my magic even returned that I might finish my holy work before it's deadline.




Mother was most pleased with my recovery and talked at length about visitors who were to be coming the next day. The donkey swore that all preparations had been made to greet them in most opulent luxury and the security of the items, whatsoever they might be, was all but assured.

I must admit, I listened little and understood less. My work had reached it's climax and the exaltation of it's conclusion distracted me greatly, though my quill worked but slowly.

There was a moment of confrontation, a blazing green fire kindled and extinguished before it's task was accomplished and a song rose up, setting the world on it's ear. After that the narrative lost it's cohesion, focus shifting, details oddly truncated. I would compare it to a drug trip were it not disingenuous of a cloistered nun such as myself to claim such knowledge.

The longer I thought the tighter my focus was around that transitional moment. The song I recognized. I had transcribed it first among the pair and I sang it over and over to myself to no effect, it did not jar my memory further. I tried to feel the sacred magic in the hymn and though I could feel some exultant something, I could discern no reclaimed insights.

Late that night as I slept, the mandated griffon nestled close to me on the narrow mattress, I had a brief flash of inspiration so trenchant that I sprang from a dead sleep and, haltingly, I sang the second tune. I felt nothing, but I knew my execution was poor so I sang out once more as sweetly and accurately as I could. I let the tune flow through me and lift me with a feeling of freedom.

Still no clarity, I could not pass through that moment in the story without descending into a haze. It was as if I were looking up at my own visage from the bottom of a well.


"What the bloody buck?" Sister Georgia growled, kneading her temples with taloned hands.


"Sister! You've renounced your vow of silence?" I asked the stirring griffon.


"Yeah, sure, why not. I'm still a soldier so I've still got poverty working for me. If I knew what I was doing here I might be able to give you a better guess on chastity as well." She replied and I embraced her. As much a comfort as she had been, she was, in actuality no better than a stuffed animal in her previous, seemingly insensate state. She rose, removed her cloak and tossed it aside, grumbling that it was itchy and she didn't know why we were wearing them.


"It's mandated by the order, to show our humility I believe." I answered and plucked at my own robe.


"Order, huh? I've got no idea what you're on about." Sister Georgia paced the stone bolthole of a room in a nervous state.


"The Order of the Neptunia, of course, and it's good that you've finally seen fit to speak, I've need of another who knows the holy scriptures. I've failed in my attempts to recreate them, but perhaps with your knowledge I can complete the task Mother has set me to." She had started when I mentioned Mother Sacred Song, I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps she does not wish it known that her vow has been discarded. With hope in my heart I handed her the open book, turned to the page where I'd been forced to leave off, but she flipped back to the start of the scripture, my first proud paragraph.


"So, you start out your holy scripture by stating that your god is false, which by the way she is. She's a classic comic standard, a strawpony used to editorialize against Celestia," Sister Georgia stated, "But since you don't seem upset about it and you mentioned your mother..."


"Mother Sacred Song, our head nun." I interrupted to correct her misconception. Dearly as I should like it to be so, the old nun wasn't my mother.


"...Your mother, who it seems, brainwashes ponies? I'm going out on a limb and saying you're brainwashed, and since I have no idea what's going on I've got to assume I was too."


I could form no lasting impression of her statement. It flitted right out of my head, but she seemed quite troubled, "In troubled times we may take solace in the Holy Word of Neptunia. Perhaps you should study the scriptures and find solace therein."


Her shoulders rose and fell in a frustrated show of indifference but she did indeed investigate the Holy work. I smiled at her, hoping she would find comfort in it, "This is just a story about you jumping off a cliff when you were thirty four."


"It is a metaphor for the leap of faith we all must take, sister."


"Whatever. Seems to me like you're just prone to falling off of things. You should have been a pegasus or something." She replied to me and it stirred within my mind a question that had been lurking in the dark corners of my mind.


"Sister, have you seen before this day, a donkey, with wings as a pegasus might be equipped with?" Perhaps it was a common occurrence beyond our secluded home, but it seemed most noteworthy to me for some reason.


"So he's still here? I guess that confirms things. Hold on to that thought though and let me read this for a minute. You can go to sleep if you want, though, 'cuz you're creeping me out staring like that." Sister Georgia directed and I feigned restfulness when in truth I found no peace until she sat on the bed and leaned her back against my prone form whereupon I drifted off.


She must have been divinely inspired for she roused me but a short time later claiming to have made her way through the whole of the Holy Book, "Skimmed it anyway. So this whole first part, I kind of see what's going on now, but it's not any more than I knew before, well excepting for all the asides and general weirdness where you worry about what ponies think of you and philosophize, but that's a conversation for a less troubled bit of time, really."


Then Sister Georgia went on to explain the end of the allegory of the cloister and the madmare. While it was less muddled than my own version I worried about it's purity so I headed it with 'Apocryphal' after it had been transcribed, but then charitably I ended that with a question mark. I copied it down just as she spoke it, should there be some miracle hidden in the semantics.

"So what you were doing up in that tower was looking for Twilight's pet dragon, Spike. You said that he could send messages to the Princess, so you were going to tell her where we were. It sounds like you got caught after you found him. I don't know. I was supposed to be keeping a look out for you, but you heading up the stairs is the last thing I remember until now." She snorted, "I expect that's when your mom got me but I can't remember it at all. It's so strange, but I guess it's no stranger than being caught and hypnotized into a nun."


I laughed aloud, how is it that I could be caught? I've been here for the entirety of my life, what need have I to sneak around? I tried to correct her on this point, "No, no, Mother found me wandering in a daze and helped direct me back to safety. She came to me and asked how I'd come to be in the tower and I could offer no answer..."


"Yeah, yeah. I read that part too. You've got some big gaps and you still don't tell just how your mother's brainwashing everybody, but most of it's there. I guess it doesn't make too much difference at this point, so long as you realize that she did. You do realize that that's what happened, right?" Georgia ventured.


"Yes, sister."


"Can you unbrainwash the others like you did for me?" She inquired. I only stared at her blankly, "Sea Swirl, don't you know how you undid the brainwashing, and why do you still think you're a nun?"


"Of course I'm a nun!" I countered, taken aback, "...and with your help the scripture is, on balance, complete. Perhaps Mother may help in refining these verses?"


"No, Sea Swirl, she's the bad guy, remember? You can't just go showing her the book."


"I could think of no other besides yourself who I should prefer to show it before!"


"No, she killed ponies, brainwashed you, stole the Elements of Harmony, all that. I mean you know this, you wrote it down right here." She vehemently pounded the cover of Book of the Holy Word of Neptunia.


"It is good to see you showing your true zeal, Sister Georgia."  I joyously exclaimed.


Georgia grabbed me up by the scruff of the neck, threw open my room's tiny sash and forced my head through it. "Look down. What do you see?"


"Naught but the churchyard, sister, the industry of the wharves to the East, the sad metaphor of the shipbreaker's yard to the West, and beyond that lay Neptunia's sea where we will all rest some kind day." I answered. It was providence's design that the boundless sea should, one day, overtake the land that we may all be together in a watery paradise.


"The church...graveyard. Look at it." She harshly demanded and I did as bidden, "Notice the fresh graves?"


"Indeed, it's most peculiar to have such a number at one time." Considering the matter for a long while I found a suitable theory which fit the particulars, "I must imagine there was some manner of pestilence?"


"Not unless you count your mother as a pestilence, which at this point I kind of do." She blasphemed, "Think about it harder. There's thirty two rooms in this dump and there's thirty two fresh graves in the churchyard there. Now there's a lot of ponies in Eagleland, but so far as I know, none of them are in the churches, and do you know why?"


"I am a nun these thirty some years, surely..." I began, only to be abruptly silenced.


"It's redundant for ponies to belong to the church, they have living, breathing gods of their very own and if they desire they can see and converse with them directly while the Gods of my people have passed on from these lands long ago. That's why we have the churches and the cloisters, to keep their memories and the traditions of the old ways alive. In truth ponies would not be welcome within these walls. Their presence would seem disingenuous, condescending. You're not a nun, you're mother is not Mother Sacred Song. She's just a wretch who killed the clergy who lived here so she'd have a safe place to hide out." She pointed once more to the field of broken green speckled by the white stones and  mounds of fresh turned earth, "She took the lives of pacifists and scholars and stuck them in the ground right below your own window. She's a bad pony and we have to stop her."


I nodded my head, "Surely there is much wisdom in your words, Sister Georgia, we must tell Mother of this travesty without delay that she might help to seek redress on their behalf."


"So...you wrote it, but you don't understand it? Everything I say against your mother just rolls off your back, doesn't it? Okay, I gotcha." She leafed through the pages slowly, looking for what I could not venture to guess. Finally she came to rest on the two holy hymns scrawled sideways in the margins, "What are these, some kind of incantation?"


"No Sister, they are most sacred songs that I had been studying before you awoke. It is the second one that I was singing just before you renounced your vow." Georgia was much excited by this revelation and entreated me to regale her once more, but after I did so she seemed much disappointed. I sang it once more and she joined in, singing it back to me, and though it was a splendid and harmonious rendition she still seemed much displeased.


"Still feel the same?" She queried, though I did not know how to answer, "Alright, I'm going to sneak out and see if I can grab someone else and try it on them."


She returned with another griffon and directed me to sing the hymn to her. I complied and she too renounced her vows, a lively sheen gracing her eyes once more, "Georgia? What am I doing here in this ridiculous sack cloth?"


"Captain!" Georgia embraced her comrade, a breach of protocol if she were truly a Captain rather than a nun, but I kept my silence, "It's hard to explain and morning's coming soon, but here it is in a nutshell. Sea Swirl here's mom hypnotized us by some singing spell. Sea Swirl knows the counterspell and accidentally woke me up with it, but she still thinks she's a nun. Really she's about half worthless to talk to, but she's the best weapon we've got if we can keep the element of surprise on our side."


"Certainly that makes some amount of sense," The griffon 'captain' screwed up her face in thought, "Our balloon was sabotaged and we had to set down in the ocean, but we were near enough the shore that a pilot boat came out with somepony to guide us into a nearby bay for repairs. I do believe it was this same pony of which you speak because by the time we made port we were all apparently under her thrall. Instead of repairs she surreptitiously took us to the shipbreaker's yard, run by that foul donkey and we were set to the task of dismantling the Morningstar and sorting it's component parts for resale. It's a good a way of hiding a ship near shore as one might ever come across. I have no memories past that."


"Right, if you sank it the ship could still be found. If you burned it, the fire would be seen. If she'd seen to hiding the detritus away better we would never have known." Georgia restated a part of the gospel, telling a version of the winged donkey's parable, "See, we were sneaking around in case she had agents in the military on the lookout for us. We even had disguises. Sea Swirl had this cloth wrap to hide her cutie mark and a floppy hat that made her look like some snooty pony from Prance. I had a badflank Mexicolt blanket poncho and sombrero that made me look like some outlaw."
"Anyway, we spent a couple weeks looking into the records and papers to see if an Equestrian ship had turned up somewhere, but since it hadn't I figured it was still on the coast somewhere, even though Sea Swirl kept hinting that she thought they'd all gone inland somewhere. We needed bits to search and I couldn't withdraw from my bank account without blowing my cover. The only thing we had was what was left of the Cormorant beached a few miles North where the whale left it, which is a whole other story. Normally it'd be tough to do much with it but I knew about a shady donkey who runs a salvage operation, so we patched it up, jury rigged a sail and brought it in under the new moon when we wouldn't be seen."
"That damn donkey knew we were in a bind and we haggled for nearly an hour before we came to terms. Sea Swirl wandered off and I didn't think much of it until she came back in with a busted ship's wheel she found in the burn pile."


"I should venture to guess that it had half it's spokes shot away?"


"That and the engraved brass plate that said 'Morningstar' on it. She tried to play it off like she wanted it to hang on a wall or something but she wasn't fooling that old donkey. He knew as soon as he saw that thing what was going on and he bolted. I was on him before he made it through the door and I gave him a pretty good once over. He squirmed and begged and finally said he'd tell us what we wanted to know. Of course he lied, gave us this whole cock and bull story that would have sent us to West Aerie or some damn place, but Sea Swirl acted like she believed him and we made like we were setting out. Only we didn't. We followed him to this monastery and snuck in. He told... Sacred Song, was it now? Sea Swirl's mother's newest alias. She's playing the head nun around here. He told her we'd been looking for her but that he'd sent us on a wild goose chase."


"I assume she didn't believe you'd gone so simply as that?" Sister 'Captain' Grizelda had taken to poking around the cubbies and niches of the room, producing from them various items which seemed ill suited to my use. Odd that I should retain in my room talon shears and files as well as feather clippers, or that my tiny armoire was filled with cassocks endowed with wing cutouts.


"Of course she didn't. She swore a blue streak at that donkey and beat on him 'til he just cowered in a little heap on the stone floor. He sniveled and sniffled and begged to be forgiven and he followed her into the main hall. She told him to stay there and then she came back with six black clad ponies carrying gemstones. They must have been the Elements of Harmony themselves because they all started glowing, the Elements and their Bearers both, and they blasted that donkey with a swirling rainbow beam." Georgia told us.


"The scriptures relate that Brother Bray received his wings in just such a manner." I said, awed that she'd seen such a miracle as that with her own eyes.


Georgia spoke to Sister Grizelda directly, "See, this is what I mean. Not only was she there, hiding in the shadows, but she wrote it in the 'scripture' as she calls it and she just fails to remember it as such. Anyway, yeah, you'd think a mean old cuss like that would have been incinerated by the light of harmony, but he wasn't. Instead he just ended up knocked on his plot and saddled with a pair of screwed up wings. Actually, though they look awful, I think if they were preened and cared for they might turn out to be serviceable enough. That's neither here nor there. The important bit is that the Element Bearers seem to have been freed from her influence just after that because they started to mumble and she sang to them again, said 'Be still sisters,' and they calmed back down."
"That's all I know. Once they left I came down from the rafters where I was perched and Sea Swirl signaled to me from the shadows, told me she thought she saw a green flash from the top of the stairs behind her and that she was going to see if Spike was up there. I tried to stand guard but you know how that went."


She went on to detail the layout of the cloister, so far as she knew it, "The trouble is that I'm afraid to try too many rooms. I found you on the second try, but wherever Sacred Song is, she's bound to have some guards."


"Couldn't we just have her sing the counterspell to get them all back to our side again?" Sister  Grizelda hooked a taloned thumb at me.


"Maybe, but Sacred Song's crafty and I don't think we'll catch her with such a blunt attack. According to her book here they all eat in the mess hall together, so what we could do is free about a dozen griffons. We need enough still under her influence that we can copy them and use them for cover. One little slip out of character and she'll be onto us and if she puts us back under we'll be right back where we started. I doubt she counts her captives, though, so we could send somebody for backup, maybe try to get to Spike again besides. I bet the flash was somepony sending letters looking for all of them. We should probably just wake twelve or so, explain the plan to 'em, then just plain jump her in the mess. Then Sea Swirl can set the rest of them free."


"Could we use the counterspell ourselves?" Sister Grizelda asked.


"I tried. It doesn't work for me so it's probably a unicorn thing. I'm not sure we could teach it even if we woke one." Sister 


Sister Grizelda eyed me most warily, "You'll sing when we tell you to, will you not?"


"Oh most joyously!"


"You've no intention of turning traitor on us?" She asked, "This whole plan relies on your talents exclusively. Odds are that even if we kill Sacred Song the other brainwashed members of our crew will come after us."


I gasped, "You cannot kill Mother! You mustn't! That would be the ultimate smear against Nuptunia and her laws!"


Sister Georgia held up the Book and flipped through it's pages, "It says no such thing anywhere in here."


I took up the book and searched it's pages with frantic energy but could find no commandment that was applicable. Sister Georgia flipped to the last page, commandeered my quill and ink and scribbled furiously and said, "Look there, right at the end there's a bit that says 'Mother Sacred Song is evil. You should do whatever Georgia and Grizelda tell you and fight against her. So saith Holy Goddess Neptunia, almighty ruler of the seas, Esquire' See? It's in your holy book so you can't go against it."


"There's no way..." Sister Grizelda started, only to be cut short by Georgia's shushing.


"If it's in the book it's the holy word even if I wrote it. That's infallibility for you, y'know, what can you do?" Georgia shrugged.


I sought to find the flaw in her argument, but there in fresh ink lay an incontrovertible commandment and I was bound by my tenuous faith to follow it, "So be it." I said through misty eyes. My faith had been faltering in recent days, but I still could not renounce it just because it went against beloved Mother Sacred Song who'd watched over me for so long. I took back the quill and ink and continued my work by recording this exchange as well, Neptunia help me should I give up my task as well.


"Good, then let us awaken our friends." Sister Grizelda slipped out, skirted the wall and lead us to the nearest chamber. The door's soft creak was the only sound to be heard as we entered. A candle's flame was kindled and in it's flickering light we found the room occupied only by robes puddled on the floor. Quickly we moved to the next room and the next only to find identical conditions.


"They've been raptured away!" I sobbed, the inopportune timing of my lapse in faith had left me firmly bound upon this earth rather than safely tucked away in the bosom of the sea.


"Shush! There's no such thing, don't make me write it in your book so as to prove it either." Georgia chastised, "But something odd's going on. It's an hour yet 'til sunrise and they've gone and without their robes besides. We can't just wander around or we'll be found out."


Sister Grizelda was deep in thought, watching as I wrote in the sacred book the parable of resurrection and revelation, "We'll just have to be exceedingly careful. We're going to have a hard time of it though, if they catch us and everything we've said and done is written down for anyone to see. Sea Swirl? Be a good pony and give us that book so we can put it somewhere safe 'til all this is over, eh?"


"I should prefer not to relinquish the Good Book just in my hour of need." I stated, but to no avail. She reached out a taloned hand and