Illustration by Vest.
Special pre-reader thanks to Dracon Pyrothayan

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Breathing freedom due, in failure’s confines,
Hope should stand true, yet undermines.
Lost to the moon’s light, he missed all signs,
Memory takes flight, the sunrise shines.

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Chapter 11

Sunrise

Muffling the ricocheting shouts and cries across the moonlit knolls of the Canterlot statue garden, the thick sheet of opalescent mist descended from the settling cacophony. Each aching groan of fatigued ire, each rustling of dragging armor, the confused back and forth of ponies nickering and muttering in disoriented ramblings, it all attempted to permeate through the dust.

It all fell into the thick air, powerless to carry through, all sound thumping in comatose droning heaps in a single low note.

“You miss it.” An orange hoof prodded against his aching shoulder. Gina leaned in closely, exhaling deeply. “That look in your eye.”

Ghasen tilted his chin downward from the featureless aether. “I don’t know what you’re-” He turned his head to her, but stopped mid-motion, catching himself halfway to eye contact. He blinked heavily, rolling his head back forward. Opening his eyes, the soft unchanging note of stifled sound filled his ears again, the gentle embrace of stone comfort crept up his body once more in a vestigial reflex.

“I know,” Gina’s voice cut through again beside him. “I miss it sometimes.”

“Aye, yes,” Ghasen slowly let the words seep out, not thinking them though, not letting them break his immersion into the cold thickness drifting around him. “‘Tis amazin’, really, that something ‘ere so quiet be such wondrous company.”

The orange unicorn nodded, slowly turning away from him to face the sky. A break in the dust cracked open through the morning’s teal light, and from high above, a single eye from the moon’s surface looked back upon her.

The projected image of the Mare in the Moon pierced through to her heart in a jolt of old memory, the last sight before she too made acquaintances with the same companion Ghasen reminisced over. An enraged Sun Princess, a column of blinding energy washing over her, a curtain of gray blurring over her eyes before pinching shut around the last blades of light permeating around the lunar projection above. That memory, how it held on.Like reliving an old dream in real life, the moon disappeared, blurring over in a curtain of gray.

She understood the universe seemed to conspire as one, doing everything in its power to deliver an unmistakable metaphor for how badly things had gotten. But her heart still pounded, blood surged through her body in rapid pulses, and she just needed a moment to wrap her mind around it all.

“Tell me,” Gina dug a forehoof into the cold grass, feeling the numbing cold of dew lapping up her leg. “Tell me, what was it like for you?”

“A millennium in its embrace, you ask?” Ghasen chuckled lightly, then tilted his head away. The smile disappeared from his face. Not a decibel of pride came forth. “Truly, truly fell in love with it, I had.”

“Me too.” No wait. She seized her breath, surprised to see how quickly she was to share the same experience. Yet it was out. She hoped her old fiance could at least pick up on the same revelation. She hoped he understood. She had always wanted to know that he was capable, that he was able to open his heart to something else, and...

“Me too,” she closed her eyes, letting her mind convince itself that a piece of her old gray friend was still clinging to her shoulder, pulling her closer, tighter, stronger.

She trot forward, but her legs strangely buckled and gave way beneath her. The adrenaline was wearing off, the events that transpired within the Canterlot statue garden started to coalesce into legible imagery in her recent memory, and the ringing in her ears subsided.

Sound started permeating through more clearly, and the cozy tendrils of gray air dissipated in thin apparitions. She shook her mane, a fleeting drape of dust unlatched and fluttered into a sooty aura around her head, the swirling particulates illuminating against the morning moon’s light.

It was at that moment that a sharp sting of looming dread fell onto her. She couldn’t see the moon earlier. It was concealed. It was blocked out. It was masked by the shadowed silhouette of the archive’s tower.

But now in its place, a curtain of moonlight poured over her, unhindered by what was standing in its way.

* * * * *

A succession of fluttering carried through the narrow crevices of toppled masonry. Trailed by a cascade of green and teal light, it spun and spiraled upward, trying to follow the maze of musty light crackling above. The hummingbird narrowed itself on its approach, flittering wildly in a fast upwards lunge to a hairline fracture beaming with luminance through the fallen architecture. It quickly unfolded, the aged parchment pulling taught in the Glyph’s paisley aura, and sailed between the cracks as a single flat sheet into the cold morning mist.

Glyph twirled upwards in a swelling of breeze, reforming back into the origami hummingbird.

But somewhere between the soft landing on the grass under a shimmering aurora blasting across the sky, and a storm of bricks raining over them as they scurried for shelter, the bookkeeper went rushing back into the settling ruins.

Lowering its head, the Glyph cast as much of its energy into those wings, beating feverishly through the hovering dust to hopefully locate-

Glyph chirped excitedly in good fortune, making quick excited spins around Gina as she clawed at the piled blocks. Her magic scooped and lurched against the masonry as she gripped them, pushing them aside and releasing them nonchalantly behind her.

“Dev’s, c’mon where’d you get off to,” Gina muttered desperately, seizing loads of rock into her magic and tossing it aside, “if you wind up dead under some rock, I’m gonna kill ya.” Another scoop of debris fell aside in a tumult of noise, kicking up dust that left the unicorn in a coughing fit.

Glyph, darted to the side, avoiding the tumbling debris in a quick swoop beside her. The unicorn jumped back in surprise, then softened her expression upon seeing the familiar gatekeeper hovering beside her.

“Glyph!” She smiled, then paused, feeling a pained grimace creeping up over her. “I don’t know if I should assume you both survived, or if you’re the only one who...” She paused, shutting her eyes tightly. “Just...” She lightened her tone, certain she wasn’t ready for either the relief or bite of knowing, “...Don’t tell me how he is, just show me where.”

The hummingbird suddenly looped upward, then plunged through the narrow gaps in the rubble.

Gina looked downward, watching the green light throbbing downwards through the shadows. She immediately hooked her forehooves after Glyph, her magic clenching and helping lift the piles of stone aside. Greens and cyans danced before her, chirping encouragingly, driving her to dig faster and more strenuously.

A dull rumble permeated from beneath her, her rear legs bumping downward as the ground shifted under natural gravity. She stepped back, but could only pull herself onto a toppled section of column before the whole pile dipped downward as a single slab of clutter. It slid into a steep angle, pulling the unicorn under the floor into a thick cushion of billowing detritus.

Orange torch light danced around her, lighting up a narrow passageway that tilted at a nauseating angle. While mostly intact, the whole room was warped and skewed by the collapsing tower’s crushing fall.

She cleared her lungs, rising slowly to her hooves. Gina’s ears suddenly perked up, and she locked her body still upon hearing more stones shifting behind her. Turning apprehensively, she spotted a hazy figure rummaging through the tower’s ruin, obscured by rolling clouds of dust.

The figure shoved a rock aside with a foreleg...despite the horn in its silhouette.

“Dev’s! Thank Celestia yer alright!” Rushing towards him, the mare expected him to at least turn to meet her, maybe open some sort of embrace, perhaps an obligatory Great Celestia you’re alive, I thought you were a goner, I’ll never leave your side again oh my best friend ever!

But all Devon did was shift another stone, speaking as if Gina were creating an unnecessary distraction. “Good, you’re here right on time, look can you help me here? We need to find the saddlebag, we need to get back down in there.”

Was he just...expecting her to return and spontaneously Deus ex Machina through a collapsing wall to help him find his stuff? He was just as bad as Gha-...

“Uh..Dev’s?” Gina balked. Watching him, she beheld raw, shell-shocked panic in the charcoal unicorn’s face and movements. “Dev’s what do ya mean? Why? Ya did it, ya saved everything, right?”

“No I didn’t! Luna...” he gasped, the very act of vocalizing the fact causing him to flinch in pain. “Luna got sent back to the moon. I don’t know what happened, but I know it was something I did. We’ve got to fix it.” Devon allowed the tiniest pause in his search. “She saved me and I let her down, Gina! You’re going to help me, right?”

“Uh of course, Dev’s,” Gina respond after only a moment of stunned stammering. “Ya know I’d never ditch out on ya, I owe ya that much. So where’d the bag go?”

From behind them, a pair of heavy hooves slammed to an elevated poise. “You mean THIS bag?” An arc of black motioned upward, carrying a sound of rustling canvas and jangles.

“So...” Gina groaned, slowly turning towards the black-coated stallion emerging from the dense haze.

“So!” The Captain sneered, dropping the bag at his forelegs. “Here she is again, a face I can’t forget. Little miss Discord thief.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Or as Princess Celestia would probably call you, that wretched minion of chaos who drops trains onto Canterlot Council meetings.”

“Wait,” Devon held a hoof up before a furrowed brow, “You dropped a train on-”

“No!” Gina gawked, shooting a defensive look at Devon. “It...well for starters it was a caboose. And secondly,” she took a long step forward to Stormblade. “This bag doesn’t belong to you it belongs to this fellow. And if you don’t-”

Gina cleared her throat, seeking some telltale expression to Devon for what he was insinuating. “Uh...” Devon shrugged. Thanks for the help. “Evidence that...” Gina attempted, “...that this is our stuff?”

“Oh, no no no,” Stormblade laughed, pulling the bag close to his chest. “I’m sure of that. I mean...evidence evidence. As in...this bag is now evidence! And it is being confiscated for analysis of the crime scene!”

“Crime scene!?” the orange unicorn again sought some sort of helpful expression from Devon, but his equally confused glare lent no favors. “Where!?”

“Right here!” The Captain slowly paced around the edge of the collapsed room, dragging his hoof along the sagging walls. “Let’s just say a little hummingbird told me everything. The stars. The contracts. The gift of irresponsible quantities of power to Nightmare Moon!”

A hummingbird? Devon wasn’t certain where he was coming up with talking hummingbirds. The only ones he knew of were Glyph and...and...the emblem on the cover of....

“This whole archive that you and your cohort, what was it...Bookweight? Bookend? Book...” He peered straight into Devon. “...Mark?”

“Ah,” Stormblade flicked an open hoof to the side, a satisfied smile unfurling across his muzzle. “Bookmark it was! That must be her name, and you must know her.”

“Yes, you Bookmark,” Stormblade straightened his neck upwards, returning eye contact on Gina. “You. Oh you put up a good poker face, yes you do.” He motioned his jaw to the side. “Too bad your friend gave you away just now when I said your name.” An obsidian hoof cracked forward, pointing right at Devon. “Thanks, kid, your lack of initiative makes my job so much easier!”

Gina spat, and with a quick turn, flicked her tail towards the Captain. “You are a fool of fools! What makes you even think I am one you seek!”

The Captain lashed back, a grimace scrunching up his face. “You dare to...” He paused, exhaling deeply. The wrinkles subsided back to a relaxed visage. “But of course, it’s so obvious, one with the power to control the stars, to conspire towards bringing about Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago in such a terrible mismanagement of great opportunity...of course would also have the gall to hit me across the brows with a draconequus statue.”

A burst of snickers erupted from Devon’s nostrils. “You actually did that?”

The orange unicorn snuck a sideways glance and a quick nod to him. “It was satisfying.”

“It was also a doozy of a way to say hello,” Stormblade stopped in his pacing, opening the saddlebag before him. “I should’ve known immediately that somepony out to harm Princess Luna again would come back to finish the job, even after a thousand years. But this journal, these artifacts, you’ve been busy recollecting them haven’t you? And now after I stop you here and now, I won’t even need to bring you in. I’ve got all the evidence right here.”

The orange unicorn ran idea after idea through her head, but couldn’t on the spot figure out a way to persuade the bumbling Captain to hoof over the bag except with force. While his obsession with their initial encounter in the statue garden clearly weighed heavily upon his memory, no doubt a lingering scar on his pride, she too couldn’t help but feel a percolating desire to put him in his spot.

“You are...way beyond mistaken,” Gina sighed, choking down the bloodlust coursing through her veins. “I see that you’ve done a lot of work, been through quite a bit, and...and...” Empathy failed to come easily to her. “Maintained your poise.” Compliments, even less so. “But for the last time,” Gulp. “Sir.” Ow. “My bag please.”

“Fine!” Gina growled, lowering her head. A shimmer grew to life around her horn, a thick orange glow crackled from the piling debris that slid through the room. “You want evidence!? Then don’t forget...” An explosive crash rocked the room, flinging a solid barrier of scattering masonry to the opposite side. “...the accomplice!”

A battered luggage car tumbled into the room, a sporadic flurry of orange telekinesis surging around it.

Devon fell back, tripping over his own tail. “Eh-hyeh heh, Gina? This plan of your’s-”

Yeah. Argue with a mare with eyes glowing like hot coals while swinging a train over her head. Real good idea there. “N-n-nev...er-r m-”

“Dev’s,” Gina seethed, summoning the very last bit of patience forth. “I’ll hold him off. Just get out of here, I don’t want ya caught up in this. I’ll find ya after all this okay?”

“Gina...no.” He peered to the Captain. “He’s an idiot, he’s a bully, but he’s not our problem.” He could swear, the morning moonlight against his back suddenly felt...warmer. “We gotta get the bag, that’s all, let this one be.”

“I know Dev’s!” Seethe. Long breath. “I know.” Exhale. She turned back to the Captain, lowering her shoulders. “He’s just...old business from before.”

The charcoal unicorn’s voice cracked. He couldn’t believe this. “Old...what do you mean old business!?”

“I trust you’re about to do something really brazen and excessive!” Devon slowly paced backwards, readying to bolt up the debris ramp back to the surface. “But fine! Fine!” His forelegs skittered over the loose ruins, clamoring upwards with progressively uncertain hoofing. “Do it your way! When you come to your senses, don’t come crying to me about how nopony ever trusts you!”

Gina turned and looked over her shoulder with fiery eyes. “I got your back always, ya know that!” A response did not come forth, only her words echoing off the lone debris ramp. “Ya know I do! Right!?”

A heavy hoofstep followed by jangles banged from across the room. “You know,” the Captain began, “instead of politely waiting for your ‘friend’ to betray you and leave you behind like this, I could’ve probably applied a bear’s chiropractor’s worth of justice into your face.” He pretended to ignore her savage snarl through her grit teeth, waving a forehoof aside. “But you know, a stallion of honor and class like myself, I feel it courteous to give you the first-”

The caboose flung through the air, torpedoing straight for the Captain. Leaping backwards, he extended his forelegs while feeling time descend to a screeching crawl. In a graceful arc, he aligned his body with the open rear door of the caboose, feeling the metallic edges grace gingerly around the tips of his mane. The luggage within spiraled and tumbled around him, and he dug his shoulder into a flowery bag to use as a shield to knock aside the others. Still gripping it against his shoulder, the bag smacked into the opposite door, dislodging it open while the luggage within burst out into a flurry of filly clothes.

The Captain spun forward through the flurry of scattering pink linens. “...shot.” A skirt and blouse settled perfectly around him. The Captain groaned, shaking the skirt from around his hips. Eh, good enough. Aside from the dismount putting him in a mare’s attire, he felt he’d succeeded at asserting his awesome nature to this usurping aggressor.

“My word, Captain,” Gina groused. “Are we off to a tea party to play with Princess dolls?”

“They’re not dolls, they’re-!” Quip. Quip. It’s just a quip, she couldn’t possibly know about... “I mean...” The Captain made a mental note to omit that from the record.

He dug his forelegs into the dusty rubble and bucked them upward, showering Gina’s face in a choking cloud of granite dust. “Show me your power, Bookmark!”

Caught flat-hoofed, Gina wrenched backwards, dragging her foreleg across her face with a startled shriek. “I’m...NOT...Book-GUH!” Before she could finish answering, an obsidian fetlock grabbed her square around her shoulders, throwing her to the ground.

She rolled into the fall, vaulting off her rear hooves back into an upright stance. “Do you insist on bringing this to yourself!?”

The Captain smiled wryly. “Bring this on myself? You just threw a train at me.”

“You assaulted an officer of Captain Stormblade’s Elite Royal Guard of Captain Stormblade!”

“Assaulted!?” Gina groaned, “I’m hardly even trying.” She tilted her head away, rolling her eyes. “This is more like...like an improv combat readiness exercise.”

“You’re stalling. Enough with the semantics,” the Captain reached into the bag, pulling the brass gauntlet into clear view. “Show me your true power!”

“Oh hoh,” he quickly jumped to the side of the room, kicking open a door behind him. The pink glow of magma crept through the opening, the room on the other end now a collapsed well to a fiery pit. “So you too know what this gauntlet is for.”

Gina’s horn lit up again, gripping the luggage car firmly in the air behind her. “Drop it!”

Oh, of all the sweetest circumstances, how his adversary was just feeding him his one liners. “As you wish,” he carelessly motioned his eyes upwards, daintily flinging the gauntlet to the pink magma fifty haunches below.

The luggage car slammed firmly on the ground, and an orange bolt of sprinting hooves slammed into Stormblade, knocking him aside. Righting back to balance, he peered through the door, watching the orange unicorn make the suicidal dive after the artifact.

He could feel it in his bones, she was holding back, covering up, trying not to reveal her true identity to him. But he was convinced she would be the one to bring Luna to him, she was the one the journal had instructed to seek out, the Bookmark to find to bring Luna under control.

“Show your true self,” Stormblade muttered to himself, his eyes hanging over the pit’s door. “Show your power.”

Gina straightened her body, keeping a firm eye on the descending gauntlet clattering from rock ledges to brick wall. The dizzying miasma of pink magma churned below, the heat steadily increasing against her chest.

She reached out her forehoof, and pulling her head back, slung the gauntlet firmly in place. A marigold glow pelted and crackled around her. The magic plumed in a blinding orange light.

Shutting her eyes, the bookkeeper’s words echoed through her mind once more. Devon was right. This was all unnecessary. What was she even doing? All she had to do was get the bag. She didn’t need to-

“I...I sent her to her...” His voice cracked, and his ears immediately reacted to the alien quivers emanating from his throat. He coughed, pulling his chest out in a rigid posture. “She failed.” Stormblade groaned. “Pathetic.”

He breathed in heavily, looking around the room in a slight panic. Nopony. Nopony saw this. Nopony would know. He looked over the door’s hinges again, the pink glow staring back. He couldn’t...

“What a waste.” He couldn’t look... “Bookmarks. Hah.” He couldn’t let this setback hold him down. He shook his head, cracking his neck, trying to dislodge the festering depression making itself known in his heart.

Or dislodging the affirmation he even had a heart to empathize with such blatant evil.

Her friend even said she was being brazen, and she befell a brazen pony’s destiny, just like the Bookmarks always were according to the architect’s journal. There will be a lesson somewhere in this. Somewhere. He assured himself, he’d pen a lesson from such a senseless act of careless foalishness.

He looked over the saddlebag, and with a quick kick of a forehoof slid the journal out onto the floor. “Got a plan B?” The journal slowly shuddered to life, subtle wisps of violet threading around the cover’s hummingbird emblem. “I think that orange unicorn mare you were having me chase after...” The journal suddenly lurched upwards in a purple swirl of magic, hanging apprehensively over him. “She dove into the dragon’s swimming hole, so to speak.”

The journal spun into an aggressive angle, quivering menacingly above Stormblade.

With a succession of twirls, the hummingbird emblem on the cover fired to life, illuminating with the rage of the imbued spirit within. Stormblade raised a hoof in front of his face, uncertain of why the journal was even reacting in such a manner, but unable to bring forth any words to pacify it. Nothing to do but clench his eyes shut, and prepare for a lot of bruising.

Suddenly, a searing heat cast across the Captain’ back. Pinching open a shaking eyelid, he saw a pink glow dancing across the floor, his own shadow flickering and weaving across the masonry in front of him. He blinked, and looking up, saw the journal come to a rest and slowly descend.

Whirling across his back legs, the Captain flopped onto his back. A large pink orb of magma loomed through the door over the pit. A single point of light converged into a bright white beam, and shot out into the room.

Widening into a thick glowing beam, the light pulled apart a widening portal through the magma. The flickering energy of a marigold shield shone through the portal, repulsing the drooping lava into a protective cocoon around it. An orange hoof adorned in a brass gauntlet extended through the portal, glimmering with brilliant surges of churning marigold magic.

Gina quickly leapt through the door, the orb of pink magma falling to the floor. A ghastly fireball erupted behind her, casting her into a silhouette against a thousand magenta daggers of light. Only the energized jewels of the gauntlet and her eyes stood out glowing against her shadowed figure.

Stormblade looked on in awe. “That’s...” Impossible? Incredible? “No, no, no, no, no...” Not fair. Definitely not fair. “You’re...” History? Toast? “You’re not supposed to have better entrances than me!” Ah. He had his own story to write. Of course.

The orange unicorn raised the gauntlet beside her face, narrowing her eyes. “As I was saying. My bag, please.”

The Captain paced around to her side. “Fine,” he continued. “Round two.”

A blast of searing orange sliced the air in front of her. The Captain rolled into a dodge, feeling the heat singe the tip of his tail.

In a rapid recovery, the Captain immediately righted mid-dodge on his rear hooves, and propelled himself in the air. He tackled firmly against the orange unicorn, pinning her to the ground.

“I said, stop!” Gina pulled her neck to the side, but immediately reeled inward feeling obsidian hooves tugging against the gauntlet. “You are mistaken!”

“You are deceiving me!” The Captain lashed back, digging his shoulder against her collar. “All along you have been hiding your identity, Bookmark!”

“I’m not-gyuugh!” Gina struggled further, trying to pull the gauntlet free from his grip.

“Let go!” He tugged harder against the brass adornment, unable sense any bit of give. “Cease this resistance!” Lurching his spine upwards, he exerted all his weight to his hooves in a final tug. His grip unlatched, flinging his fetlock upwards toward her face.

“I’m not a Bookm-pyaafgh!” A black blur cracked against her cheek, turning her vision into a momentary swirl.

“Y-y-you...” Gina couldn’t believe it. All this talk of honor and dignity and being a hero. “You’d suckerbuck a mare with your own bare hoof!?” Her horn illuminated quickly, a surge of marigold exploding from her foreleg.

Stormblade clenched his teeth, pulling the offending hoof close to him. “Well,” he stammered in defense, “You made me do th-KHYACKT!!”

The corner of a swinging caboose immediately flung him like a rag doll to the opposite edge of the room.

Shaking her head, she held a hoof against her cheek. The stinging bit deep. She hoped it didn’t bruise too badly. She knew what she signed up for, she knew what she’d gotten herself into, and she always considered herself above the trivial nuances of gender roles and getting special dainty-wainty treatment because mares are allegedly delicate creatures of love and nurturing. But. Seriously. A Captain striking a mare? In the face?

Even a wretched stallion like Ghasen wouldn’t have even thought to...oh wait, no. No, no no no!

Gina’s vision sharpened to clarity with a heavy blink, showing the journal fully ablaze in purple magic. “Stop! No!” Gina called out to the journal, but the enchanted tome raged with deaf vengeance. Whatever shred of Ghasen remained in that tome, it was a shred of him from long ago, a long-standing piece that never had the luxury to fall in love with something else.

While she’d been toiling in the comforting embrace of The Gray, the tome remained with nothing but the imbued mission of saving Gina from the stars. And after a millennium of festering on its own failure, the enchantment acted as expected upon seeing its beloved getting so disgracefully smacked by another stallion.

Stormblade squealed in panic, darting to the side as the tome smashed through the wall behind him. The explosion of masonry and bricks jettisoned out against the Captain’s back, pressing him square on the floor.

Immediately, the ground beneath him in a purple bolt, flopping him upwards in a careening twist of flailing limbs. The Captain skittered to his hooves, and without any semblance of balance, leaned aside in a panicked trot.

A third explosion of purple rocketed through the wall, launching the Captain head under haunches to the pink wall of flames surrounding a black menacing doorway. He landed collar first beside Gina, a thread of scattering detritus lapped against her from his heavy impact

The Captain stood up, wiping a foreleg across his muzzle, a cloud of dust fluttering from his nostrils. He lowered his head, sneering at the journal, slowly backing away from it in defensive posture to the open door’s hinges. A sliding of rear hooves ushered a quick flinch as Stormblade regained his balance, his rear legs overhanging the long fall to pink magma below.

Gina tried to scurry aside and pull the gauntlet out from beneath her. Yet the journal ascended, readying a final blow to cast the Captain through the door in a massive strike. It rose above the ramp of debris leading into the room, cast against sky light pouring through the ceiling.

In a sudden screech, the journal lurched back, attempting to slow itself and divert away from its beloved. Gina scrunched her brow, and angled her horn at the charging tome.

A sharp crack echoed across the walls. In a moment locked in time, Gina’s horn pierced through the hummingbird emblem, the journal impaled clean through and smacking heavily against her forehead. A halo of sparks and orange magic embers blasted outwards.

“Eee-yaiee!” She yelped loudly in pain, turning and flopping against the floor. A clatter of brass banged and rolled to stillness, leaving a muffled silence enveloping the room.

Stormblade peered over to her, realizing that his adversary had just saved him. He...Could he...

How was he going to rewrite that in his favor? This hero’s journey thing was going so well for him before she had to come in and-

“Stop.” Gina softly cried, curling up tightly against herself on the floor. “I told you,” she sniffed lightly, “I told you to stop.”

Despite his greatest efforts, he could clearly see she was taking all the honor for herself. And he...no, he wouldn’t let her out-honor him. He slowly paced over to her, picking up the gauntlet on the way.

She quivered as her hooves rested on the book speared by her horn. “Eeh...” the orange quietly whimpered, then pushed upwards. “Aaackt!” She cried out, her whole body lurching and tensing as the tome flopped to the floor beside her.

He knew it happened very rarely, but when it did, nothing in the world hurt more.

A jagged crack ran down the length of the unicorn’s horn. A thick glittering drip of leaking magic fluttered out of it in a slow stream. He held up the gauntlet, then back at Gina. Holding it up in his obsidian hoof, he compared its size to the size of the unicorn’s hoof.

With a weak shimmer of purple, the tome slowly lit to a dull glow. It attempted to hover, but fell flat with its cover open to one of the few remaining pages within. The Captain peered down to it, noting that the markings etched on the gauntlet matched the markings of the journal looking up at him from the floor.

The sound of parchment on dirt scratched rhythmically. The journal scoot in timid weak presses towards the fallen unicorn. Unable to lift itself, it dragged, finally aligning up beside her, the dissipating ward bleeding from the torn cover struggling to be in her presence, that final shred of Ghasen’s old troubled soul reaching out to her.

She could feel the pain building in her head, knowing that when the adrenaline wore off, she was going to be facing the migraine of a lifetime. She heard the dragging scooching of the journal again, the tome making another approach to her. Reflexively, she started to wrap a telekinetic field around it to push it away, but a crippling jolt of luminance fractured across her eyes. Her horn rebelled furiously, seeping magic exuding before her in a thick glistening sheet.

She gasped, dropping her head back down. She waited for the throbbing to recede, but as the discomfort made way for sentience, the telltale nudge of a leathery cover pressed against her cheek.

“Get off of me.” She whimpered. “Get off of me.” She exhaled. “Get off of me...” She pinched her eyes shut. “Get off of me...!” She slapped the journal from her cheek. “Get off of me!” She pulled herself up to her front hooves. “Get off of me!” She clenched the journal. “GET OFF OF ME!” She twisted her foreleg back.

Now, as he watched her sink back onto the floor, the disorienting jolt of her injury weighing her down, the Captain saw that true character, true power...came from sacrifice.

Sacrifice of the self. Sacrifice of one’s past. Sacrifice of that which defines who they were, even if it was from a thousand years ago.

If there was a lesson from all this to be had for his story, it was that ponies could learn the true value of ‘power’ from the virtue of ‘sacrifice.’

Brilliant! A perfectly fitting justification for an early defeat to define the hero’s journey!

After all, she was no use to him injured, and would need to heal first. If he was to help her, he would win the enemy’s trust. And maybe if he could convince her that he’s evil like she is, that he wants to use that power that she has too, she’d help him rescue Luna and bring his fairytale to fruition later on to reveal his sincere benevolence all along!

“Well, I’ll give you credit.” Stormblade tapped her shoulder with a fetlock. “This little improv combat readiness exercise?” A glistening red iris looked up to him in irritation. “Best one I’ve had, compliments for upgrading to a train, much better than the statue you used on our first rough and tumble.”

She rolled her head back against the floor. Apparently, there was something more disgraceful than suckerbucking a mare across the face...

“I was a bit disappointed the first time around, seemed too short and jarring, but I blame myself mostly for not expecting to be kissed by a stone draconequus so voraciously.”

If I help her, she’ll be certain to help me. Maybe even...oh would Luna hold it against me if I scrounged up a bit of romance with this firebrand on the journey? I always wanted to romance his enemy, my story could have that chapter.

How his mind reeled so joyously at the prospect of building up her good emotions, then rejecting her to prove to Luna how much he truly loved her instead of this secondary orange character. His story was writing itself beautifully.

“I do thank you kindly,” the words grinded out of him behind a forceful smile, “for saving my life so. Come now, I’ll see to it you are taken care of and healed, you’ll come to find that I’m really not such a bad guy, especially when you understand why I’m going to need...” The gauntlet slid to a rest in the saddlebag. “...your help in particular.”

* * * * *

Weary and narrow-eyed, a navy mane swung in slow rhythmic cantor with a fatigued droop. He was unsure if the numbness coursing through him was from the biting night air or the scalding splash of conflicted emotions that washed over him earlier, but his only prerogative lay in each advancing hoofstep forward through the back alleyways of Canterlot.

He could still feel the ache where armored hooves pulled him away from the tower’s scattered remnants. He was only halfway back to the Canterlot palace before some command from higher up demanded a full withdrawal from the garden, something about clearing way for a VIP being extracted from the premises.

Yeah. He lived embedded in Canterlot politics long enough to know that VIP was just a tourist-friendly euphemism for prisoner. They thought they had a “VIP”.

A rusting from an adjacent alley snapped Devon’s focus back into place. Canterlot was waking up. He needed to keep making distance.

Breathing heavily, his lungs reached feverishly to the wind before him, demanding further portions of oxygen to replenish from the soreness. He’d not run so fast in his adult years, didn’t even know that the short charcoal legs that once carried his foalhood frame in flight from bullies and life’s bountiful unpleasantries of so long ago still retained the memory to flee from the statue garden.

In the awkward silence harbored within the narrow alleys of lower Canterlot, each interloping kiss of wind would transform within the creaking architecture and draping linens overhead, twisting into a gnarled cry that pinged and tore into the charcoal unicorn. He thought better of his own mind, thought it would be able to overcome such silly metaphorical interpretations, but each slow plod forward carried him no further from the frackus within his own mind, leaving him equally as downtrodden as he was on the previous step, the previous breath, the previous minute, the previous hour...

Shaking his head, he quickened his pace. Home was just a few blocks away. Nothing that a rapid trot would take off his mind. Right?

The ground beneath him blurred. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his head up, feeling a peculiar heaviness at the corner of his eye. He cut through the air, causing a stirring of alien-sounding wind to lap and shear across his face, intruding into his hearing with uncanny resemblance to the previous hollow yawn of wind that greeted him when the smoke cleared.

When the wisps of stone smoke cleared in the pre-dawn light, revealing the low moon in the sky, the hush of soldiers around him only amplifying the haunting weight of what happened...

Reigning above, the moon hung between the looming barriers of houses and shops. What once hang perched as a symbol of guidance and company in younger years, the ever present companion of a youth who ensured it remain in his peripheral vision as an anchor to the real world while delving into his books, now returned in a radically new shade of blue.

Now nothing more than another pale blue reminder of his failings, a pale blue manifestation of his own inability to properly pull a plan together, another pale blue dip in his own life. How characteristic it all was, how it coalesced to yet another turn toward the typical.

Intruding from between the brick walls, a narrow lick of jade light stretched across the alley. He paused, tilting his orange irises into view, seeing the main Canterlot avenue bustling before him with frantically scattering soldiers. Earth ponies and pegasi traversed in tight regiments, all looped up in the panicked chaos that gripped the whole city.

He peered towards the moon, his former guardian, his long-standing childhood friend, the only entity even willing to lend patient council to his worries and tribulations, and a face he couldn’t bear to look at anymore. He did this to her. He left her all alone, back to feeling abandoned once more. Instead of sticking it out and thinking through a proper solution, he just acted on impulse, thinking he was doing the right thing, thinking he was freeing her, only to plummet her back into a pale blue prison.

He couldn’t bring himself to make the correlation. Not now. No. He’s not...he’s not like...he did what he had to do, there was no other choice. She would understand, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she? Back up on her lunar confines, the Princess of the Night would understand it as one big misunderstanding right?

A sharp clatter of armor shot his attention back into reality, the moon’s facade dipping back into periphery. Devon pulled back, retreating narrowly behind the wall and watching the close shadows of marching soldiers project across the jade lick of luminance in front of him. He remembered how just moments ago, the soldiers were making a formation to surround him, to grab him with the others, and what would they have thought if they saw him in possession of the forbidden artifacts from the lower archive and star chamber?

Even if he fought against his destiny to perpetuate the cycle, the rest of Canterlot would band together in an attempt to pin the blame on him. To blame him as the mastermind who deceived the Princess into going to the archive. To blame him as the overseer that freed Gina, and commanded her to follow along with his plan. Even if in his heart he knew it to be true, Canterlot would not, and if they accused him enough it was only a matter of time until his heart buckled...just like Ghasen’s did under the accusatory bombardment of the stars.

Just like Luna did to herself when she thought her beautiful nights were shunned.

Just like how back in his foalhood, the way his mother tried to keep that pale blue ranch home together, but ultimately succumbed to her own shortcomings brought out and pressured on by-

“Stop,” a deep gravely voice bellowed from the end of the alley. Devon narrowly twisted his head around the corner, spying a black earth pony holding his chest high, the adorning medals atop the excessively ornate coat jangled as he positioned before the regiment. “Turn!” He commanded the line, pulling his chin higher as they turned their backs to the alley.

Hiding wasn’t helping him at all. But hiding was all he could hear his mind screaming at him to do. Whether it was impulse within, a distrust Luna shared with him regarding Canterlot’s bureaucracy, or Ghasen’s troubling insights on the psychological breakdown of being constantly accused, he knew he had to get home and lay low.

Devon quickly crept past the gap, clearing into the other side. From the edge of his eyesight, he saw the tall jangling Captain quickly turn his glance down the alley. Devon sunk his shoulders low, skittering quickly out of sight.

“Hold the line!” the earth pony bellowed. A slow rhythm of jangles crept up from behind him. The charcoal unicorn immediately propped himself against the side of the alley. He shot a glance towards the lick of jade light behind him, only to see the encroaching shadow of the burly captain gradually filling it. Devon found a thin door frame in front of him, and twisted himself vertically into it.

He saw the black officer pony stomp firmly at the edge, peering down both sides of the alley. “Colts,” he sneered. “Disrespectful yearlings.”

A chilling air crept up Devon’s side, almost summoning a shiver, forcing him to cringe and swallow down the reflexive convulsion. He sucked in his breath, letting the breeze pass through him unimpeded. As the caressing air subsided, the frigid sensation receded. Devon exhaled in relief.

“Hyuh?” The burly pony’s attention suddenly shot down the alley at him. He slowly edged forward, his figure sinking into an ominous black silhouette as he dragged himself out of the jade light behind him.

Devon plopped flat against the door frame. He contemplated sliding down to the ground to be less visible, he sought routes ahead to dart in escape, he searched, scanned, pleaded the alley to yield at least some sort of viable solution within hoof’s reach! He looked up to the moon...

Ghasen was right, it was only a matter of time until the weight of their questions drives him to snap and admit to being somepony else, the somepony they vilify him as. He might as well give up now. Give up now. Give up, turn out with both hooves up in the air.

Yes, I am the one you’re looking for, I am the pony who put Luna back on the moon, and if the bureaucratic hivemind of Canterlot decrees I’m the villain, then hogtie me and hoist my guilty flank off to-

“Stormblade?!” A pegasus called out from above. Devon nudged his attention upward, seeing the winged soldier poking his head over a looming rooftop. “Where’d you get off to?!” The pegasus’ voice mixed relief, shock and dread perfectly.

“I, Jetlag, have been busy working to stop this mess. While you were out ruining the investigation, I was caught in a fight with the very architects of this scheme.”

Devon heard the muffled wind puffing out from a pegasus’ landing. “Really...” Apparently, the pegasus was not quite sold on the story. “Care to fill me in on that, sir?”

“Need to know information, Jetlag, all you need to know is that I’m in command of this search, are there any questions?”

“Well, you can just stow them, Private.” Devon could not see, but he could certainly hear the Captain raise his voice to address other guards, presumably. “Investigator Commodore Stormblade is back in command of this operation. We are searching an accomplice, black coat with a blue mane. Consider his magic extremely potent and dangerous.”

Well, aside from the magic potent and dangerous bit, Devon was getting the impression they were talking about him. This wasn’t sounding good.

“Should you encounter him, do not engage, but get me and I’ll take care of anything he has. I’ve already taken down his superior, and she’ll not be any threat to us anymore.”

“Really, sir?” The cyan pegasus’s voice picked up, caught in honest surprise. “That’s the first bit of good news we’ve had all night. Do you need any guards to cover the palace dungeons, then? She sounds like the type who might be a flight ris-”

“I mean there’s no need for you to worry, Jetlag!” Stormblade repeated the words in a powerful shout. The gravely voice barely kicked up over the rising clatter of soldiers continuing their patrol beside them.

“Recovering in Canterlot Hospital, she had quite a nasty horn injury that needed immediate assistance.”

“What!?” The private’s loud cry of protest provided the perfect cover for Devon to sneak back around to the corner to eavesdrop. “Recovering!?” He snarled, stamping quickly to stare down the pegasus nose to nose. “Of all the...why isn’t she in the deepest holds of the Palace right now for questioning!?”

“You said she fought hard against you! You said she threw Discord at you!” His wings puffed out intensely. “Literally!” It wasn’t often he got to use that word in conjunction with something so absurd and still be grammatically correct.

“Very astute, Jetlag,” the Second Captain assured him with a condescending sneer. “But...unicorn with a broken horn. That’s like... pressing assault charges for a foal sneezing on you.”

The pale blue light seemed to augment in intensity, the chilling embrace of frigid moonlight enveloping over Devon’s shoulders as he leaned in for more.

“She can’t use magic.” The officer pony swished a dismissive hoof through the air, chuckling at the private’s worry. “She is an opponent worthy of respect. I’m ensuring she is provided our fastest and best treatment.” He jabbed a hoof into the cyan pegasus’ shoulder. “After her recovery, she’ll come straight for me.” He seethed, turning his gaze back down the alley, forcing Devon to tug himself back into the shadow. “We have something of her’s she’ll be quite familiar with, but make sure she’s comfortable and treated well for now.”

“Nothing huge.” The officer disappeared back down the sidewalk, the line of soldiers following in step. “Because only she will be able to use it,” he chuckled, “she might want. It. Back.”

He must get away, keep low, and do everything in his power to stop himself from hurting anypony else just by existing.

His heavy breathing coupled with the sweeping night breeze. The gasps and whispers of memories flickered through his tightly clenched eyes.

Swerving between two wooden gates, Devon lunged into a cobblestone street, his home finally standing before him. In the early morning’s pale blue glow, it shone and flickered, how he didn’t want to go in, but how it was the only place that would be safe.

They would know to search for him. His only saving grace being that his pursuers knew not of his residence, and how he would have to eventually find a solution by then, yes?

A lone light clicked into life upstairs. He heard the concerned calling of a mare inside, her shadow draping across the mango-lit window. “Dev’s?” He heard her voice softly through the chilled air. “Ya’ home yet ‘er wh’ut? I heard that awful racket back in th’garden, ya alright, honey?”

Or...to turn his back on it all, throw himself back in time, and return to how it once was...?

“Dev’s!? I knits ya’ somethin’ fuh’ yuh’ big head ta’ wear inna’ cold!”

He slunk his neck down, the pale blue moonlight behind now disappearing from his peripheral vision as he slowly made the last leg to in slow fatigued steps to the front door. He swung it open quietly, seeing his mother rounding into the base of the stairs.

How to sum it up. The multiple runs through the deathtraps, the dragons, the golems, the army of statues, playing amateur lawyer with celestial bodies, winning the heart of a Princess only to fling her to the moon...

“It’s...” The mare cringed, looking at the clock, “...Six er’clock inn’uh mornin’!” She puffed out her chest, clamping her hooves down. “Right now mist’uh, you goes upstairs ‘n getcha some shuts’eye!”

Didn’t have to tell him twice. Without a word, he hauled himself in a hefty drag upstairs to his room. He inhaled deeply, seeing the familiar comfortable retreat greeting him. Books. Bed. Posters. He flung a stack of books off his bed onto the dresser, paying no heed to the teal glint of curious chirping light peeking inquisitively through one of the covers. Everything in there would have to be dealt with, but it would be dealt with later.

For now, his focus was in mentally falling back, and starting the process of retreating...

Back to the way it was, back to him being a lowly cog in an irrelevant machine. Back to bureaucracy. Oh, bureaucracy. To fade away once more, to diminish beyond the memories of Canterlot’s collective consciousness back into the featureless aether of his former existence. To once again cross that line, and feel at home and comfort in the abundant company that came with such a life. Plopping flat against the bed he breathed out, hoping the pressed exhalation would carry the weight off his shoulders.

Yet. His idealism diminished in a sudden bite of dryness. With his final lick of consciousness before blinking to sleep, Devon coughed, summoning a flickering squall of cobalt memories to the forefront of his consciousness before transitioning into a dream-filled slumber.

O - O - O - O - O

The charcoal colt was far too old to be sung to at this age, but as is with any mother, she knew something was amiss when it came to her own son. The young unicorn could be read like the very books he clung to his entire foalhood, his attempts to hide them were entirely in vain.

He refused to speak earlier when she kissed him on the forehead. He refused to speak earlier when she tucked him in. He refused to speak earlier when she opened the closet door and found him shivering, clinging to a navy blue blanket in a panicked state of half-asleep, half-awake.

“I understands’ya,” she slowly attempted to reassure him, sliding a forehoof down his cheek. “No need ta’ talk. It’s okay.”

He turned away from her, gripping his forelegs around the sheets and pulling them together in a bunched wad. She lowered her head, resting a forehoof against his shoulder.

Slowly, she sang, the lyrics carrying in purest sincerity for him, in a voice of, and from herself.

“Resteth eyes, sloweth mind.
Blessed day, it has been.
Come tomorrow, you will find,
The sunrise shines once again.”

The unicorn flinched, a high pitched squeak emitting from between his lips. The charcoal colt’s voice quivered and cracked with each quickening exhale. He tried. How he tried. But each breath carried augmenting betrayal, projecting the reality that even at an age when he should be starting to think about fillies, playing rough, and spending all his free time with schoolmates instead of mother, he was anything but tough.

He feared she’d see that he was regressing back to being a meager foal, showing fear and retreat.

“Wander soul, ponder blind,
Carry on, nightly stream.
Leave today far behind,
Lose thyself now in a dream.”

Devon felt a warm breath against the back of his neck. He pulled the sheets closer, only to feel wrapping hooves looping around him. He closed his eyes tight, gritting his teeth, but only felt her squeeze tighter. Hanging on. Like she knew...she knew...

And he too was scared. But didn’t have to be scared alone. How she nurtured him, gripped him tight, not wanting the moment to fade.

He cracked and buckled under the constant pressure resting atop him, and immediately swiveled around into her expecting forehooves.

“Come tomorrow...” She quivered, sniffing lightly, “Come...t-tomorrow, a-and..you...f-find...”

He nuzzled deep into her neck as she swayed side to side. Her voice trailed off, and gently kissed the sniffling unicorn on the cheek. She pressed her forehead into his, pausing in the heavy silence hanging over them.

Devon tried to adjust to slide back under the covers, but her forelegs looped and tugged him even tighter around him. Her cheek pressed against the side of his neck, nuzzling him silently, softly placing a quiet prolonged kiss on his temple. Her lips held on as tightly as her forehooves did, nurturing him, covering him with her warmth. He pulled his neck away from the mare’s tight embrace, turning to look up at her.

O - O - O - O - O

Devon heaved, propping himself from the dream with a startled gasp. “Princess.” He breathed out, looking at the early afternoon sun creeping through his bedroom window. “The sunrise shines.” He looked over to his bedroom window, a pearlescent cascade poured across the floor in a wave of platinum haze. “Home.”

* * * * *

Suffused with purpose, Devon left only a note to his mother that he would be gone for the day. As he galloped down the streets of Canterlot, his focus made the chatter on the streets seem vague and distant. Small snippets occasionally brushed over his ear, rumors and gossip over the wild events of the last night.

Devon felt oddly disconnected from the mumbling talk that ran through the city. For not only did he know the terrible truth of the events, but he was truly alone in pursuing a solution to it. Guilt filled his thoughts in equal measure as the determination. Yet through it all, a single unsettling notion came through clear.

“If only I could get back into the tunnels...” he muttered, realizing moments later that he was powerless without the tools. All he still carried from the Archive was the silver pendant that tapped his chest with every step he took. Slowing, Devon tried to assemble the events from his shattered memory. Piece by piece, he adjusted what he knew with his best guesses, and continually fell short of an answer. Clearly by breaking of Luna’s contract, the unicorn set an event into motion that led to her return to the moon.

That was the only answer he could come with as he hit another random corner of Canterlot, his pace and destination unknown with the turmoil in his head still roiling.

It did not seem like Luna knew of the consequence either. If she did, why not warn him? Why not chastise him in his dreams? Every question birthed others, and more desperation soon joined the questions. What was most infuriating of all was how close he seemed to the answer. Ghasen warned him of consequences; he knew they were there but could not name the specifics. What did he know? Where did he go? As the questions spiraled into new ones faster and faster, the charcoal unicorn’s mind slowed, bogged down in despondent guilt.

“No!” Devon barked aloud, drawing a few surprised looks from Canterlot pedestrians. “Er...sorry,” he muttered as he lowered his voice back to an inner level.

I’m the only one who can fix this. And I’m alone on this one. I’ve got this far. First thing I need...is some kind of clue. Maybe there’s something still at the tower!

Turning sharply, Devon vaulted down a side street on a course that meandered eventually towards the statue garden. Each step towards his goal brought out more plans. It was all forming perfectly in his mind now. Glyph would be a huge help, letting him relive the moments of the contract with perfect clarity. Perhaps Luna’s contract held some clause or loophole that put her back there if it was broken. If it was there, then with the rest of the tools, it would boil down to getting her back that night! It could be over just that easily.

By the time Devon reached the outer wall of Canterlot, still scarred from the battle, he was almost optimistic about the enterprise. The whole area leading out to the statue garden and former hedge maze swarmed with guards and official-looking ponies. All he needed to do was blend in and-

“Hm? Me?” Devon blurted, the startled swing of his head towards the voice adding considerably to the simple lost idiot routine that he had not planned. “What’s the matter?”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay clear of this area,” an armored guard added, finding no threat in Devon as he approached. “We’re still combing through the area for clues, and...”

The guard paused to let out an exasperated sigh, as if the next words were some kind of disgusting medicine that he had to swallow.

“High Inquisitor Second Captain Stormblade has ordered that all civilians be barred from entry until we’re finished. Besides,” the guard continued in a more cautionary tone, “there’s a huge hole where all that rubble is. One bad step and it is a very long fall for anypony.”

Devon balked. He had to think of some reason to get up to that rubble pile, the saddlebag had to be there. “Oh I see,” he started a halting bluff, doing his best to portray nothing more than utter wholesome honesty. “It’s just that I left some important documents there last night.” The guard’s brow started to raise. “Well, ha ha...” Devon laughed. “It’s that I was walking home from work, worked late at the archive you know, and I decided to take a stroll to the garden then this all...um...happened.”

“I see, sir,” the guard said slowly. “Well, not to put a damper on your Hearth’s Warming, but if it is anywhere near where that tower was, your work papers are going to be under that for a good long while yet. I’ll ask that you fill out a form at that guard post over there and-”

“Oh but sir!” Devon tried to be ingratiating, obsequious. “I would hate to take your time on something so little. All I have to do is just pop in and pop out and you won’t even know I was here. I assure you that it is very, very important for me to get my hooves on my saddlebag, sir. There’s way more than my flank riding on this.”

“A...saddlebag, sir?” The guard’s tone changed immediately. Suspicion brewed from the far corners of his face as he started to form connections. Devon could feel his stomach falling to a depth somewhere well beyond the underground tunnels he spent last night tunneling around in. “Sir, do you think I could have a word...”

“Oh, actually wait!” Devon let out a fake laugh. “I just remembered that I left my bag in my other pants! Ha ha...” The laugh was not helping the guard’s expression. “I’ll just...um...get out of your guys’ manes then and be moving on.” The charcoal unicorn did not wait for a friendly goodbye from the guard before turning and heading back towards Canterlot. Yet even as he hustled, he could hear the guard’s voice over the bitter winter breeze that the open field invited.

“Hey, can you keep your eyes on that black unicorn? Fancy scrollwork cutie mark.”

“I don’t think he knows much, but he knew about the bag. Did Stormblade find anything in it?”

Devon whipped tightly around another bend, hoping to get back into the cosseted embrace of the city and bureaucratic anonymity, yet he was shaken to the core. His mind raced, grasping hopelessly for a Plan B. There was no way he could get close to the tower’s ruin now. But maybe there was an alternative...

* * * * *

The mirror told Celestia what she knew already; she was a complete disaster. Disheveled mane accented reddened eyes, both from the restless night. An invasion right at her doorstep that mysteriously ended, dumping dozens of befuddled ponies from a thousand-year absence into her care again, magical forces that somehow offset her own...

All the Princess of the Sun wanted to do was hide away and solve the problem, undo her reckless banishment and figure out what forced Luna back into her prison. But she did not have the luxury of retreat, certainly not after last night. Even in the scant hours between the incident and this morning, rumors were already flying, the guards were in turmoil and all looked to her for strength and confidence, Celestia had to provide. Closing her eyes, the Princess took a deep breath before turning to the door leading to the wide balcony that overlooked the courtyard, already packed with an early morning throng of citizens eager for any kind of official news to placate their fears.

Celestia inhaled once and looked into the mirror again. Of all of the skills and talents circumstance forced her to apply in her centuries of rule, the false smile of ‘all is well’ pained her the most. Even with centuries of experience, she never knew just how much the citizens under her protection bought it, but they needed it nonetheless. Even though she could not offer a solution to the true crisis, she held the power to alleviate the public crises. Stop the bigger panic by allowing normalcy to commence.

The sunlight momentarily blinded Celestia before the crowd of her ponies melded into view.

“I feel your fears and I can assure you that Canterlot is in no danger.” Celestia found that the words came more easily as her speech went on. A small part of her conscience chafed at how easily she could put aside her own true fears and worries to assuage her citizens. “As some of you may have heard, yes, Canterlot fell under some kind of magical attack last night. But thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of our guard, nopony was seriously injured. At this time, we believe the force behind this attack has been removed from the equation as well, but even in this victory, we should be ever vigilant until we fully restore everything.”

Celestia smiled. Even if she did not have Luna yet, she could at least provide these to her subjections. “In addition, I must recognize the actions of our own. Step forward, Private.”

There was a moment of awkward stillness before a slightly disheveled and very confused pegasus appeared on the balcony next to Celestia, the tired wisps of a rainbow mane poking out from beneath his helm. He looked downright terrified, though torn whether to be more terrified of the cheering crowd or the approving, yet expecting smile of the Princess.

“Private Jetstream, in recognition of your courage and leadership above and beyond the call of duty in Canterlot’s defence, I award you the highest honor royalty can present upon its service stallions of Equestria uniform, the Alicorn Cross.” Nestled in a bundle of glowing telekinesis, the exquisite medal levitated before the cyan pegasus for a moment before it pressed forward, hooking onto the pauldron of his still-scratched and battered armor. “Congratulations, dearest Jetstream, Canterlot is in your debt.”

“Buh...” Jetstream always had the best things to say when in the spotlight. Eyes danced first to the charm on his chest, then to Celestia, then to the crowd and back around to the medal to start the cycle all over again. “Well, Highness, I...”

That smile was telling him to say something. Something important. Something inspiring.

“But, ma’am,” Jetstream continued, fidgeting as the crowd’s cheering died down to hear his words. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got to catch up with my patrol.” The pegasus managed a small smile, “we’ve still got a lot to work to do. So...erm...” Another hesitation as he sought for the right words. “Permission to be dismissed?”

Celestia couldn’t help but chuckle once. “Granted, Private,” she said softly, turning back to face the crowd alone.

“Also...as some may have heard already. Princess Luna, my sister...” Celestia hesitated, a charge of emotion struggling to escape before she worked it back down. “Princess Luna was caught in a magical spell during the battle and has been returned to the moon.”

“For we have recovered all of the Elements of Harmony, and we will not rest until she is back to us. In fact,” it nearly hurt physically to put on her confident, even playful, smile in such a situation, “I’ll see to it that she is back by Hearth’s Warming Eve. Luna has missed the plays most of all, and there is no way I’ll let her miss it.” Immediately, the crowd erupted in high-spirited cheers, as if they were simply waiting for the word to become jovial again. “But we need everypony’s help. So if you have any information that may be of assistance, let a guard know right away.” Cheers floated up to Celestia’s ears as the crowd finally began to disperse, all of them eager to spread the news and renewed cheer to an otherwise shellshocked city.

Turning back into the castle, Celestia strode past the royal guard, some still bearing bruises from the battle and holding their posts, into the throne room where her pupil awaited. “Good, I’m glad you’re here, Twilight Sparkle. We have a monumental task ahead of us.” The purple unicorn mare stood still, the Element of Magic already on her head, and Celestia felt a slight wave of comfort in seeing her prize student’s confidence.

“Understood, Princess!” Twilight’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Since we managed to recover the lost Element, we’re all ready to put it all into helping get Luna back. But do you have any idea on where we should start?”

“That...” Celestia mused, settling back into her throne with a foreleg pressed onto her temple. “I’m sorry, Twilight Sparkle, after I cast that banishment spell, I spent the next thousand years trying to forget everything about it. It was such a mistake to do it in the first place. I have no idea what might have brought her back.” Sitting near her, the unicorn joined the alicorn in rumination.

“Maybe...” Twilight muttered aloud, “maybe it had something to do with the amount of magic you put out last night? Maybe something got out of control?”

“Hm...” Scrunching her face, Twilight delved back into the firmaments of magic, the core lessons and mechanics, searching for some kind of explanation. The purple unicorn shifted from one hoof to another, rocking slightly. “Well, I can’t think of anything yet, but this kind of magic is really old, I’m sure there’ll be something in the Archives, right?”

“That would be a wise place to begin, Twilight Sparkle. I’ll see to it that the archive is cleared and you and your friends can work without interruption.” With visible pain, the Princess of the Sun turned towards the palace. “I have a great deal to do to keep Canterlot in order, but should I find an opportunity, I will be by to check on your progress.”

“We’ll get there right away,” Twilight affirmed, but added in a softer tone. “I won’t let you down, Princess, I promise.”

* * * * *

The shout carried down the musty hallway. A fluttering of agitated shadows cast against the wall opposite of the janitorial closet. Stormblade’s base of operations erupted into a flurry of shouts and stomping hooves.

“Yes sir,” Jetstream beamed with pride as he opened the box in front of Stormblade. Inside the small oaken frame was a delicate purple pillow on which rested a small medallion. “The Alicorn Cross for Distinguished Honors in Combat.” The cyan unicorn closed the box and laid it back in the hooflocker that he had got it from. “We didn’t have much of a ceremony or anything, way too much work to get done with everything else that’s going on.” However, when Private Jetstream turned back, he saw Stormblade blustering and flabbergasted.

The Alicorn Cross, an extremely high honor for guardsponies who demonstrate outstanding courage and leadership in times of duress, was the one medal that Stormblade did not have. It was his to earn! How did this little...Private...get it before he did!

And Jetlag stomping about in envy and beaming pride to be under his illustrious command!

“Well, sir,” he explained with a modest shrug. “It was pretty much like I said. When the battle happened, Princess Celestia put me in charge and I just kinda put all our academy training forth. There wasn’t really a plan. Maybe it is a pegasus thing, but I pretty much just winged it.” Jetstream grinned broadly at the egregious pun.

“But don’t worry, sir,” the cyan pegasus immediately added, sobering his tone and straightening up. “We have a big job ahead, so I wasted as little time as possible getting back to work.” Stormblade couldn’t figure what enraged him further. On the one hoof, this dinky little nopony had somehow got awarded for what should have been his heroic moment savaged his pride, but on the other, this same nopony’s nonchalance bit even harder.

“Lots to be done,” Jetstream added, cinching the last strap of a non-battered piece of armor over his chest. I’ll report after my patrol as usual, sir.” And with a swoop of wings, the pegasus was gone. Left behind, the Second Captain managed to keep silent only through a colossal force of will that rapidly broke down.

“RrrRRRRAGH!” Stormblade roared in impotent frustration, sending his hoof crashing down into the closet wall. Withdrawing it from the new dent, the stallion struggled for composure. Looking down its length, he could only watch it tremble, manifesting the indignant rage that pumped through his mind. All of the jangling medals at his chest seemed pale; while certainly Stormblade held more achievements and honors, Jetstream had one that was impossibly rare and replete with adulation. Even outside the door, Stormblade heard other guards’ chatter, dazzled by that pegasus and how he can really shine when given the chance.

“That private’s going places, I tell ya, he’ll make one great officer. And sooner rather than later, I think.”

Second Captain Stormblade ran a hoof down to his own unique medal, taken from the bag back at the tower.

* * * * *

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me, Lily!” Devon bleated in a voice that was equal parts frustration and devastation. “What do you mean we can’t get in?” The charcoal unicorn stood outside the great doors to the Canterlot Archive, brought up short by the imposing foreleg of his boss. She wore a face of complete irritation. Such a disruption rubbed her all the wrong ways; not only did she miss out on advancing her station, but it also meant the irritants like Devon had to be dealt with in settings where she had no power.

“I mean that thanks to you and Princess Luna, the whole Archive is shut down. It means that all of the work that you should have had done two days ago will sit even longer.” Clearly, Boxtop was more than happy to foist responsibility for Canterlot’s current crisis onto her lowly employee. Indeed, she embraced the chance with genuine relish, revenge for his perceived misdeeds which lead to her beating at the voice of Luna. “Bet you feel pretty clever too, you really lucked out, but I know you were skipping out yesterday.” She puffed, blowing a lick of mane out of her face. “If it wasn’t for mommy dearest pullin’ for you, calling in sick for you and using her clout to dissuade me from writing up another demerit, I knew you’d never amount to anything, Bookmark.”

Shaking his head, Devon found it easy to shrug off her words. Bigger things on his mind, he supposed, turning his focus to getting into the Archive. All he had to do was get in; nopony would possibly look back at that forgotten wing where he and Luna first descended into the earth. Lily’s droning rant continued to fall on his ears like a persistent and loud downpour.

He managed to bring his attention back to the real world when he sensed a gap in the tirade. Hoping that her force was spent, Devon spoke up, distracted. “When did all the guards show up anyway?”

“Finally you speak, Bookmark,” his manager groaned, happy to demonstrate how Devon’s mere presence made her life that much worse. “Guards were here before I showed up and said nopony gets in til they give the word. Think Celestia’s student is doing some kind of investigation there.”

“Why that reaction, Bookmark?” Lily arched a critical brow. It was the same kind of look that she wore whenever she thought something was fishy. “I would have thought of everypony here, you’d be the one happiest about this. Don’t let it get to your head though, you know how big that stack is going to be with a whole day lost?” The quizzical expression morphed into a more well-worn devilish grin. “And that big pile that you left unfinished? Hope you didn’t have many Hearth’s Warming plans, Bookmark.”

“Heh...and how are you gonna plan on that, Bookmark?” Her voice was harsh vinegar, her smile nearly sadistic as Devon foolishly revealed a need to her. No way would she let this chance slip past her, not after how he got Luna to yell at HER for HIS mistake! “As manager of the Canterlot Archive, I’m here to make sure that the guards’ orders are seen to. Though as much as I’d love to let you wander in and get arrested, Bookmark, I have to consider my career.”

Lily strode purposefully to bar Devon’s path. “So yeah, you aren’t getting in. You can thank me later for that. Now get out of here, Bookmark. I’ve got to make sure that your disaster doesn’t get any worse.”

Devon stood still, not out of stubbornness, but out of a complete dumbstruck frustration. Everything he could think of was stopped dead in its tracks. Already, the guards around the garden were suspicious and Lily was keeping him from getting anywhere inside the Archive.

Once again, helpless introduced itself as a common acquaintance...or more specifically, the one that kept emptying the cider and permanently changed the scent of the couch after the number of nights it slept on it without showering. Yeah, that friend.

“Hello? Move it, Bookmark!” Lily snapped again. “Unless you really, really want to explain to the guards how it was you who was with Princess Luna last and...” Lily Boxtops stopped her growing rant, face contorting as mental connections grew. “And you were with Luna before she completely fell off the face of Equestria, weren’t you?” Devon’s manager tapped her hoof on the icy cobblestones. “Yeah...yeah you were! The guard said something about a black unicorn with a blue mane!”

“I told that captain guy yesterday, Miss Boxtops,” the charcoal unicorn suddenly found himself stammering for an explanation. His voice rose in pace as he blurted out. “She ran into me, we had our little thing and then I ran into her again when I was trying to handle that overdue stack of missives like you wanted me to. J-just that simple!”

“My hoof it was that simple, Bookmark,” his boss sneered. “You know something, don’t you?”

“You’re such a terrible liar, Bookmark,” Lily laughed mockingly. “You couldn’t lie to save your own skin, which I suppose is what’s going on right now.”

“Lily, think.” Devon exhaled deeply, waving a hoof before him. “You think Princess Luna would want to remain in my company that long, and that I would have the magical capabilities to somehow, oh I dunno, overturn a millennium-long conspiracy and singlehoofedly cast her back on the moon out of my own will?”

Lily’s eager expression dropped off her face, dejection taking a firm hold. “You can’t even pick up a pencil with that bum horn of your’s.” She dragged a forehoof down her cheek. “Yeah, silly me, thinking you could actually...do...” Motioning a hoof before her, she gestured toward him. “...Anything.”

“I guess I’ll...” the charcoal unicorn slowly twisted his shoulders away, motioning back to the main street. “Just...clock on out early?”

“Clocking out early it is. I’ll just get out of here then, alright?” Devon’s shoulders slumped downwards as he turned... ”Alright.” ...beating a hasty retreat before his boss changed her mind to act on that vile spite.

* * * * *

After a final test, Twilight Sparkle could finally confirm that slamming her head into a book of ancient magic did not make the desired spells appear. “Guh!” she huffed in frustration, flinging it away with a flicker of telekinesis, “nothing in that one either, why is this so hard?” It was well past dark and the only light in Canterlot’s Archive came from the small gas lamps that Twilight burned as she ravenously devoured every book of magic or history she could, searching for any clue on how such a powerful banishment spell could be undone.

How long had she been here, anyway? With a breath, the unicorn allowed her senses to go to the wider world for a moment. Thanks to her show of confidence, Twilight had something to prove, she saw the glimmer of hope in Celestia’s eyes and knew it was not something shown lightly.

Twilight repeated the mantra over and over in her head as she delved back into a tome of ancient magic for the fifth time. Eyes danced over the lines and scribblings of old scholars from a time where magic was far less tame and control. Unicorns then were lucky to have any kind of instruction; and what instruction was there shocked the modern unicorn mare. Instead of rigorous study and class time, magic was confined within chants and song-like incantations. It was all so...primitive.

“Gyugh,” she groaned. “I could really use some sort of pick-me-up about now-wha-Hey!”

A pink pony hoisted Twilight up in the air. “And lucky for you,” Pinkie sang to the unicorn held over her head, “I just read a most interesting poster on proper usage of the word literally!”

“Like right now, I’m literally picking you up!” The pink earth pony bounded to the side, lowering her then wrapping her forehooves around her neck in a fast hug that sent them stumbling sideways. “Hee hee, and now I’m metaphor-uhh...meta-met-meta...” Her eyes paused in thought, trying to remember the word. “Unliterally picking you up with a hug!”

Seeing her face not shifting in the least, Pinkie slowly dropped her forelegs back to her side, and slid away from the unicorn’s agitated scowl.

Twilight huffed. “Hyuff, thanks Pinkie, but...” She looked up to the rows, aisles, and floors of endless books spiraling up the Archive’s rotunda. “I don’t need hugs, I need answers.”

“Well,” Pinkie started, “I’m usually good at finding things when I knock all the books off the shelves, should I go start destroying some aisles!?”

“That’s...!” Twilight gestured towards her to halt. “No, no. If you could instead just go find me a daisy sandwich instead?” The purple unicorn lurched forward, the pained growling of her stomach called out to her. “I’m so caught up here, I’ll forget to even eat.”

She didn’t even know when she last ate. Breakfast? Did she even...? No, not her focus. Not to worry about.

“You got it, Twilight!” Pinkie started bounding out in rhythmic hops to the door. “But, listen, you’ve always been a great friend to me, and anything I can do to help, I owe you so much.” Her pupils quivered and expanded, her blue irises retreating. “As my very best friend ever, I’d do anything to help you with-”

“But I wanna!” She grumped, tipping her nose up. “Fine, one daisy sandwich, coming up.”

The booming echo of the door slamming held Twilight locked in a flinch for several seconds. She wished she could muster the integrity to let her friends know how much she appreciated them, too. Why did she have to be the stressed out one? Why were all her friends obliged to help out the one too bogged down to give proper thanks like they always did for her?

What made the search all the more frustrating was that Twilight did not even know where to start. She had no lead or clue to chase down and analyze. It soon became a tiring exercise, where a possible clue meant multiple trips back into books the mare thought she had put behind her to see if they held any new insights.

Twilight yawned heavily, pausing a moment to look on the moonlight sneaking in through the Archive’s windows. The darker cobalt tone of the light was undeniably familiar, after all, she had grown up only knowing this form of moonlight, but now armed with the knowledge of what that light meant, the moonlight filled with a foreboding tone, unsettling yet motivating at the same time.

“I can do this,” Twilight muttered, lowering her head down to a tome. Before her eyes, the words blurred and shifted, struggling to fall into obedient focus. Squinting, the unicorn leaned slowly forward until her head fell short, horn colliding with the wooden desk with an audible thunk. Moments later, sleep claimed her.

Twilight mumbled softly. This was not the first time she had fallen asleep in the middle of studies, or the middle of the Archive, hoofsteps were not all that unusual. They’ll go away and bother somepony else..

Stirring slightly, Twilight opened her eyes and beheld a sandy frame, facing away from her. Its steps matching the unusual hoofbeats. It took some time for her fuzzy vision and mind to fully awaken, but as they drew the shape into focus, she recognized the other pony at the top of the tower. As she sat up, Twilight disturbed one of the tomes she had abandoned to the floor, sending it to the floor with a loud clatter of parchment and binding.

“Apologies for disturbing ya, lass,” the stallion spoke without looking. “Was just touring the legacy of what we planned.” Turning, Ghasen faced Twilight fully and let out a small, deadpan sigh. “Amazed what you did with the place, can’t find anything anymore. I had t’follow the mess t’find ya.”

“What are you doing here?” Twilight interrupted his reverie, guard raising in turn with her suspicious tone. “How’d you get past the guards?”

“Aye, m’lass, I was here when this place was conceived,” he chuckled. “I may be old, but I haven’t forgotten all of the Archive’s little secrets. These windows are always easy t’get into. Lots of blind spots.” Approaching Twilight’s table, Ghasen continued, “as fer why I’m here. Well, I was hoping you’d know where my boy Devon got off to. Seems he is in a bind. All of Canterlot, more like.”

“Don’t trust this ol’ bag uh’ dirt, eh? Can’t say I rightfully blame ya, but I assure you that my interests are...” Ghasen hesitated, rolling the word in his mouth a few times. “...mine. For the first time in a long while, in fact. I’m here to make good on the wrongs I’ve been up to, lass. Oh how’d they always say, what I had’ta do here. Makin’...yes that’s it, makin recompense.” His head drifted to the side. “Recompense for what the Bookmarks have put ya through.”

All he received was more guarded silence. “And just how are you offering to help?” Twilight finally broke the silence. “I’m not saying I’m going to go along with what your idea is, but I’ll hear you out. Because,” she sighed, “I’m pretty lost already. Princess Celestia was thorough about removing any mention of what she did to Luna.”

What, was the purple unicorn not going to roll with the petty ramblings of this old intruding stallion at this point? Desperation...well...desperation does crazy things to ponies sometimes.

“Pretty much the only ponies who’d know about that, would be the ones who were there.” Twilight looked up at the sound of a quill scribbling. Encased in brown telekinesis, the pen danced across a blank sheet, sketching in designs and scrawling words. “I was worried about what was happening with Luna when she came to me.”

“Oh, ho hoh no, I mean when Luna came to me,” Ghasen paused, his drifting eyes dropped firmly to Twilight’s. “For her eternal night.”

Yet when the universe presents a starting place...The universe also didn’t have a good sense of scale in the grand scheme of things. This was starting to become...eh...

“So,” the architect resumed, unimpeded by her quizzical glance, “I done thought a means to break her out of the stars’ hold. Not sure if it’ll work here, but like y’said, you’re lost already.” Ghasen turned the paper around when he finished, sliding it across the table into Twilight’s gaze.

“What is this?” she asked, looking it over. Central to the drawing was six symbols she instantly recognized, the Elements of Harmony. Archaic and ancient-looking lines and rings circled the symbols, recognized after a moment by Twilight as the oldest form of recording magic. One thousand years of unicorn magical use changed the conventions of describing and depicting the flows of magic but the more she looked at the old writing in fresh ink, the more the purple unicorn drew the pieces together. Where Celestia had invoked a powerful banishment, this was a summoning of equal scale.

Majestic light through the night's darkness strewn,
Restoreth freedom to souls on thine moon!
Spirits astern of thine astral disguise
Giveth back to us thine imprisoned prize!
Invoked and imbued with harmony’s stone
We call to thee, bring our loved one home!

“Ya know,” Ghasen continued. “Thought of making a puzzle of it, eh-hyeh heh heh!” He waves his hooves over his head. “Scatter the words in different pages of different tomes all about this here archive, make clues for others to locate and assemble this spell!”

Twilight lifted the paper above the tabletop, scouring over the spell’s words. “So...why didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t. T’was taken from me before I could trap all the books in the earth pony cooking aisle.” His face seized, the pupils narrowing in sudden panic. “Just remembered. Don’t read the chimicherrychonga book. Full of scorpions, it is.”

“Uh-huh,” Twilight reflexively implied, her focus so on the spell that she no longer heard him.

Not waiting for her to look up, Ghasen spoke again. “This spell was taken before I could hide it. My beloved Orangina had thought to use it to free Luna from Nightmare Moon,” his voice grew heavy with regret. “The poor girl was so sure she could have stopped it, but even though the Element of Magic is important, it is just a piece.” The sandy old unicorn paused. “Course I can’t guarantee it’ll work for ye, girl. I’d wish ye good look, but we both know that luck’ll have nothin’ to do with how this works out.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Twilight pressed, eyes still locked on the parchment. “I’ve never seen a spell like this, but I get the idea.” Thousands of questions whipped through her mind, but one assumed dominance. “Do you know if this will even work?”

Ghasen took in a long breath. “I can’t rightly say, girl. If the conditions are right...if the spell is right if...” He trailed off.

“If there are no...conflicts with its effect and yer intent. That, I’m afraid lass, lies outside of your hooves.” A clatter of hoofbeats caused Ghasen’s ear to flick. “Well, suppose you’ll figure that one out on your own.” Before Twilight could speak, the elder unicorn slunk back into the corridors, his unusual cantor the last sign of his being there at all.

“Twilight? Hey! We’re back with the sandwiches! Twilight? Everything okay?” The loud voice burst through the normally silent halls with all the subtlety of the blue pegasus who spoke them. “And I think Pinkie kicked over another bookshelf.”

“Gyguhh...oh, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight shook her head, rubbing her eyes a few times. “Yes I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The blue pegasus scowled dubiously. “You were doing a whole lot of talking with nopony around for you to be alright. Listen, books can talk to ya, I know that much, but don’t talk back, alright?”

The purple unicorn hesitated, debating silently if she should explain her encounter with the mysterious unicorn before deciding that it would not help anything, and might actually get her friends focused on tracking him down rather than freeing Luna.

“I got a little excited, Rainbow Dash, sorry. But I think I might have something. Can you bring everypony here?”

* * * * *

Time bled one sleepless night into another as Devon sat up in bed. Muddled attempts to sleep, to return to the dreamscape with Luna’s comfort all failed when fresh pangs of guilt or half-baked ideas sprang to life, forcing the unicorn into bleary-eyed action. Inevitably, these actions only made it as far as the desk in his room, covered in parchment with scatterbrained notes of how to get the Princess back, all without substance, only wishing and not acting.

Rising from his bed for what he believed was the fiftieth time that night, the charcoal unicorn loped towards his desk, lit by the cool light of the moon streaming in from the window. Growing up, it was his nightlight, his companion who was always there to watch over him, but as he sat in the silvery light now, it felt like an accusatory stare whose silence screamed louder than any yell.

Hunching over his desk, Devon set his quill to scribbling and dashing. “I’m trying, Luna, I’m trying,” he muttered as he wrote out the same list he wrote before, complete with the same notes.

Reading over the list again, a slow, groaning sense of inevitable futility washed into Devon’s mind. A small seed of fear took root and the questions that he struggled to keep from rising up exploded violently into his active thoughts.”What if...” he whispered to the moonlight, “what if I can’t bring you back, Luna? I...I don’t know if I can...I mean what can I do?” Devon sniffed once, feeling the pull of moisture at the corner of his eye.

A pinprick of light seeped into the corner of his vision. Pulling out in front of him, Glyph swirled in a brief miasma of color. Unfortunately, the charcoal unicorn only stared into the barrage of what Glyph hoped to be encouraging memories before he turned back to the quill and repetitous notes. “Not now, Glyph,” Devon murmured, trying his best to summon a genuine remorse in his voice for something not on his mind. “I can’t get distracted.”

Of all the things he wanted now, he wanted sleep. To let dreams take him again, or at least have the chance to apologize and escape his guilt momentarily.

Yet his own guilt and desperation drove his body to ignore the call for rest. A logical part of his brain knew fully that the unicorn was in no condition to do anything, let alone concoct a plan to un-banish Princess Luna. It was foolish to keep pursuing this course with his body and mind battered and aching. Devon knew that.

Setting the quill down, the charcoal unicorn returned to bed, collapsing with the distant hope of his body submitting to exhaustion and sleep, but even as he ground down into the pillow, Devon knew he wouldn’t get it. Tossing and turning, he ran through a buffet of positions and pillows, vainly straining for sleep before he lay still.

All he wanted above everything was to fall back to sleep. At least in the dreams, he could see Luna. He had a moment of comfort there, free from the clutching guilt and fruitless scramble. In the cloying darkness, a final thought, seeded when Luna vanished, finally bloomed.

Devon rolled, yet the thought, now vocalized sought rationalization, each moment spent in reflection adding to its strength. “I mean,” the unicorn muttered into a blanket, “maybe I should just stop. Did I really do anything to help in this whole thing?” Devon was familiar with this sensation; the logic of self-deprecation undermining truths that, until that point, had been firm and secure in his heart.

“Pretty pathetic,” he mumbled into an old, mushy pillow. “survive all the traps, stop Ghasen and you still managed to screw it up, Devon.” He ground a black hoof across his face and under his eyes. “Bet Gina would be getting one good laugh out of this...” As the words left his mouth, Devon flopped around on the bed, toying with the silver quill with one hoof. Closing his eyes, the unicorn took a deep breath, trying to force sleep for a solid five minutes before inevitably he rose again to his desk. Seizing the quill in his mouth, Devon scratched out a new note.

Gina. Does she know anything?

“Dev’s!” an older mare’s voice called from below. “Listen you, uh, you’s beens up there’s for abouts like eighty years now!”

“Nots too busy for hot rose bread and lentil soup, I hope!” The voice echoed through the floorboards. “I know you loves it, so how’s abouts you loves your mother too with some appreciation and eat somethin’!?”

“I can reheat it I-” he nickered, pressing an impatient hoof against the desktop. “I can take care of myself, ma! I’m a grown stallion for the love of Starswirl!”

A long pause hung in the air. The silence rippled away with the muffled closing of her bedroom door downstairs. He looked out the window, the moon above fading behind an intruding regiment of clouds. No Princess to look up to tonight. He’d might as well take the moment to grab some food, but...

Starstruck

by Vest

Chapter 11: Sunrise