The nurse changelings clasped their front hoofs to their chests, the buzzing of their wings sounding anxious to Cadance's ears. Clustered in a cloud overhead, they kept their solid blue eyes focused on the workers going from little hexagonal tube to little hexagonal tube and plugging the ends with the translucent green wax they secreted from their abdomens. Craning her neck, Cadance gave a whistle. "That's, what? Another two dozen?"
"Twenty-nine, to be precise." Chrysalis blew out a breath and shook her head, the one strand of blackish-blue hair that drooped between her eyes waving back and forth. She had the best mane of any Chrysalis yet, but 'patchy' was still the kindest word Cadance could think of to describe it. "The most I've ever managed at one time."
Cadance couldn't help shaking her head as well. "It does seem odd, doesn't it?"
"Laying eggs?" Chrysalis gave a sideways glance and a crooked smile. "I'll have you know that it's the most natural thing in the world for some of us."
With a laugh, Cadance poked a hoof into Chrysalis's hard black side. "You know what I mean, Chrys."
"Do I?" The changeling leader poked Cadance, the pock marks in her legs much deeper than her predecessors'. "'Cause to be honest, all I've really had time to think about the past however many weeks is getting set to squeeze these little darlings out." She gestured to the wall, the workers sealing in the last of the eggs. "But now I can leave the hard work to the professionals." She nodded to the hovering nurses, and while they weren't quite as pony-like as Chrysalis, Cadance could still tell that several of them were blushing.
"Professionals." The word made Cadance sigh. "I could use a few of those in Canterlot right about now."
"Oh? Your aunt going in for egg-laying?"
That almost got another laugh out of Cadance, but a memory choked it off: Aunt Celestia, head bowed and draped in black at Uncle Goldie's funeral not quite a century ago now. Walking into their room to Call him had been the hardest thing Cadance had ever done, and she still marveled at the way neither Aunt Celestia nor Uncle Goldie had voiced a single hint that they might want Cadance to delay uncle's Call for even a moment. Aunt Celestia had merely looked at her, had nodded, then had lowered her head so she and Uncle Goldie could share one last kiss, the ancient unicorn barely able to move his lips.
Cadance had Called his name, and the love that had swirled through the room, Cadance hadn't felt anything like it before or since. Time and space itself had parted like a curtain on a stage to reveal all Unicornia's kings and queens ranging along the rolling green hills of the Groves Beyond, Princess Platinum smiling at their forefront. Uncle Goldie had sat up as young and impossibly handsome as Cadance remembered from their first meeting, his now unbreathing body remaining behind, and he and Aunt Celestia had bowed to one another before Prince Golden had turned and moved away, the curtain drawing closed behind him.
That night, she'd sat up with Aunt Celestia, her seneschal, and her closest advisers, the bunch of them eating and drinking, laughing and crying and remembering Uncle Goldie. But for all the new bonds of love she could sense connecting her and Aunt Celestia to the infinite web that encompassed every mortal pony who lived and died, Cadance still wasn't feeling that love.
She'd been thinking about it a lot since then, and she'd finally found herself comparing it to the sensation of standing on a hill with a perfect summer breeze playing around her, tickling her wings and caressing her mane. She could swirl the breeze with her feathers or puff her cheeks and blow it around, influencing its direction, but as soon as she took a breath and drew the breeze into her lungs, it literally stopped being a breeze. It sat there inside her completely quiet and still till she blew it back out again.
In the same way, even though spreading the sweet warmth of love among all ponies everywhere seemed to be her reason for existing in Equestria in the first place, Cadance had always imagined herself floating along the outside edges of that love, herding it and guiding it but never experiencing it.
Another poke at her side, and a clearing of throat. "Cadance? You in there?"
Blinking, she turned, saw Chrysalis blinking back. "Getting a Call?" the changeling asked.
It took her a few seconds to swallow against the dryness in her throat and shake her head. "No, I...I was just—" With an effort, she pushed her gloomy thoughts away and focused on the absolutely non-gloomy happenings in the nursery around her. "I was just trying to remember: we don't have the birthday party for them till after they actually hatch, right?"
Chrysalis rolled her eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me the latest political intrigues roiling the golden halls of Canterlot. It's not like it matters." A slow smile crept over her snout. "Other than you and your aunt, all little ponies come to my hoofs eventually." She shrugged. "Oh, and your hoofs, too, I suppose."
Clearing her throat, Cadance gave the changeling a sideways glance. "You know how creepy that sounds, right?"
"Creepy?" Chrysalis frowned. "It's just nature, Cadance. I mean, why d'you think I'm pumping these out?" She waved a hoof at the egg wall. "With all the ponies being born nowadays, we'll need another three teams up and running by the end of the century to handle all the Calls."
"That's true." Aunt Celestia's domestic policy ministers had been producing reports on this very subject for the last hundred years, their predictions getting more alarming by the decade: the big cities on the east coast were already straining the limits of their water supplies, not to mention the tricky logistics of growing and transporting enough food in the surrounding farmland to support the residents. But the solutions these so-called professionals proposed—everything from encouraging ponies to move west and start new towns in Equestria's frontier to mandating how many foals a family could have—did nothing but cause more arguments with the various other so-called professionals on Auntie's staff. Cadance blew out a breath. "The population's really surging, isn't it?"
"I'll say." With a grin, Chrysalis nudged her in the side again. "Reading through your history books, I'm convinced it comes from your Aunt Luna not being around to poke through ponies' dreams at night. Knowing she's not peering over their shoulders, more ponies are engaging in, oh, let's call them procreational activities, shall we?"
It took Cadance a moment to realize what Chrysalis meant, and when she did, she had to laugh. "Everything always comes back to egg-laying with you, doesn't it?"
"Like I say." Buzzing into a hover, Chrysalis spread her front legs. "It's all perfectly natural."
"Uh-huh." The more Cadance thought about what Chrysalis was saying, though... "Keep telling yourself that, Chrys. And get some rest: I've had six Calls rustling at me all day, and I'm betting two or three of them'll break this evening. I'll be out in the city, but I'll send you a location as soon as I know it."
She heard Chrysalis give a throaty chuckle. "Looking forward to it."
Smiling, Cadance flared her horn and hopped into the antechamber of her rooms in Canterlot Tower, the sunlight of a late winter afternoon wavering around the curtains. A tendril of her magic pulled the front door open, and she nodded to the bowing guards stationed outside. "My aunt's meeting with her domestic policy group right now, isn't she?"
They said that she was, so Cadance trotted down the hall to that wing of the palace and slid into the conference room, Aunt Celestia flicking her a glance and a nod while keeping her attention riveted on yet another presentation detailing the stresses on Manehattan's overtaxed aqueducts.
The report wrapped up eventually, and Aunt Celestia thanked the minister. "Let's call it a day, shall we, fillies and gentlecolts?" she asked then, the flow of magic from her horn tapping the gavel on the table before her.
"Seconded," several of the ministers said, and Aunt Celestia blinked, smiled sheepishly, and tapped her gavel again.
Bidding the princesses a good evening, the ministers trooped from the room, and Cadance wondered why Aunt Celestia smelled so salty. Her gaveling the meeting closed without going through the proper procedure seemed odd, too...
But Aunt Celestia's smile strengthened to its usual reassuring intensity as she turned it on Cadance. "Niece. All's well, I take it?"
"It is. But I've been thinking..." And she told Aunt Celestia Chrysalis's idea about why the population might be rising—not mentioning where the idea had come from, of course: she'd stood on the brink of telling her aunt about the changelings dozens of times over the past several centuries, but she'd never actually jumped off that particular ledge. After all, Cadance kept telling herself, Aunt Celestia didn't share every detail of how she ran night and day, and the changelings were purely internal to the Realm Between. No reason to bother her aunt with their existence. No reason at all.
"Interesting," Aunt Celestia said when Cadance finished. "To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten Luna's role as Guardian of Dreams, and I certainly never considered the effect her vigilance might've had on ponies' romantic lives." A quill pen rose in the flex of her magic and jotted a quick note on a piece of parchment. "I'll add restarting the Dream Patrol to my list." She rolled the parchment up, and it vanished with a flash. "Thank you, Cadance, but if you'll excuse me, I have a somewhat urgent matter I must see to before sundown."
Cadance's ears perked. "Oh? Anything I can do to help?"
Indecision tugged at Aunt Celestia's face, but it was gone so quickly—and Cadance so rarely saw it there—she could almost tell herself she'd imagined it. "Not really," her aunt said in her usual smooth voice. "But—" That smoothness went a little lumpy. "Should I be...delayed in returning this evening, would you be so kind as to see to the sunset and the moonrise?"
"Me?" Cadance knew the principles involved, of course, but she'd never actually performed the duties. "Is...are...are you sure you don't need any—?"
"I'm testing a theory." Aunt Celestia started for the door. "If I'm right, all of Equestria will rejoice. If I'm wrong, well, either everything will still be fine, or you'll need to ask Seneschal for the instructions I've left with him. I'll ask that you please follow them."
Unleashing her magic, Cadance popped into the doorway directly in front of her aunt. "OK. Getting a little cryptic there, Auntie."
"Cadance..." Aunt Celestia drew herself up to her full height, but she wasn't glaring, Cadance was glad to see. "Please. This is something I have to do."
"Alone?"
"Alone." Closing her eyes, Aunt Celestia drooped just a bit. "I'm sorry." Something like a grin twitched her mouth, and Cadance could almost smell the fondness in her gaze as soft and warm as freshly-baked bread. "On the bright side, however this turns out, it shouldn't take long."
Not sure what else she could do, Cadance took a breath and stepped out of the way. "You'll be careful?"
Aunt Celestia cocked her head. "I'll give it a try." She touched her horn lightly to Cadance's, then sauntered off down the hall with a nonchalance that Cadance knew was absolutely phony. Nervousness floated around her aunt like that pastel mane, and the thought that there even was something that could make Aunt Celestia nervous tightened Cadance's stomach so much, she nearly ran after her, nearly threw out a wall of magic to block her progress, nearly tried to pull up a glare of her own to aim at her aunt. But...
Cadance sighed, turned away, started toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen. Aunt Celestia respected Cadance's privacy with regard to her realm, after all. Cadance needed to do the same for Auntie.
Down the stairs and into the kitchen, Cadance greeted the serving staff with nods and smiles and profound thanks when they had her watercress sandwiches and fruit punch prepared and waiting: she'd forgotten all about lunch, and here it was nearly dinnertime.
Settling at one of the little corner tables the staff used for their own meals, she'd taken two bites and was in the middle of the third when the floor shifted under her hoofs. Flailing with her magic, she caught the edge of the counter before she could topple over, then sprang upright, looking around quickly with wide eyes. "Is everypony all right??" she called.
The cooks were going about their duties as if nothing had happened, the sou chef blinking at her from the pot she was stirring. "Princess?" the unicorn mare asked.
Still shaking, Cadance took in details: not a single movement from any of the pans hanging above the stove tops, not a single pony showing any sign of disturbance. "I—" she started to say, but the floor rocked beneath her again, so violently this time, Cadance couldn't keep from crying out as the whole room danced sideways and spilled her like a sack of potatoes onto the floor.
"Princess!" she heard the sou chef shout, but Cadance couldn't answer, vertigo sweeping over her in waves, her vision swirling so that the cooks rushing toward her in their white regalia looked like bedsheets caught in a tornado. Pain exploded in her chest, made her cry out, and something inside her, a part of her she hadn't thought about in more than half a millennium, crumpled all at once to dust and ashes.
"The Elements!" she cried out, flinging herself to her hoofs. She'd only wielded the Element of Kindness once when she'd taken part in the defeat of Discord; she'd ceded her use of the amulet to Aunt Celestia immediately afterwards as part of her move into the shadows of the Realm Between. But the connection had still been there evidently until this very moment, and the jagged throbbing of its removal was enough to tell her that something horrible was happening to—
"Aunt Celestia!" Cadance clenched her eyes, forced her mind to still, took a breath, and pushed outward with every bit of magic she possessed. She could just sense her aunt in the distance but growing rapidly closer. Falling, Cadance thought she was, tumbling from a great height, her feathers singed and the Elements hanging listless from her neck. With a leap, Cadance passed through the upper floors of Canterlot Tower like so much smoke, her horn firing wave after wave of pink and blue flame in a direction that didn't quite exist in the material world. If she could manage to slow Aunt Celestia a bit, interrupt her headlong plunge, maybe—
The leading edge of her magic met Aunt Celestia then and shattered like a plate of glass, the force of the blow slapping Cadance so hard, it jarred her teeth. The upward push she'd provided, though, seemed to be just enough, Aunt Celestia's huge wings bursting from her sides and turning her drop into a glide. Cadance came spinning out into real space about a foot above the platform at the top of the tower, Aunt Celestia exploding not far overhead like a meteor, lightning blasting from the fireball around her.
She came down hoofs first, though, the whole palace shaking when she hit, sparks shooting as she skidded across the platform's stonework. Cadance could only hover and gape, Aunt Celestia slewing to a stop at the end of four channels, black and smoking and carved several inches deep into the rock. For one breathless moment, Aunt Celestia stood where she'd landed, her sides heaving, steam rising from her, then she slowly collapsed, her legs folding her into a pile of white, gold, and gray.
Cadance flashed to her side, pumped her wings to waft as strong and cooling a breeze as she could across her. "Aunt! What happened?? What did you do??"
"I was wrong." Aunt Celestia's voice sounded as rough as hoofs on a chalkboard. "Oh, so terribly wrong..."
Now that she was closer, Cadance could see and smell the burns crisscrossing her aunt's body, and she set about smoothing as much love and healing over them as she could manage. "What happened?" she asked again.
"The Elements..." Aunt Celestia moved her head, shook the flow of her mane so it splayed across the roof beside her, and a clattering clank brought Cadance's eyes down to her aunt's long neck, the five Elements of Harmony fastened there one above the other. "I had thought I'd found a way for...for Luna to return, so I took the Elements, tried to...to approach her, tried to...to..." Her voice trailed off, and Cadance saw the shimmer of tears between her aunt's clenched eyelids.
The Elements didn't look right, the light of the late afternoon sun not glinting off them the way Cadance remembered. Of course, it had been more than five centuries since she'd last seen them, but she was fairly certain the edges of each necklace weren't supposed to be as cold and gray and dead-looking as basalt. A chill rustled her mane. "I'm guessing Aunt Luna wasn't ready."
Aunt Celestia drew in a massive breath and let it out, her whole body shuddering. "I've never seen such fury. But when I used the Elements in the manner I'd devised, they didn't...I couldn't..." Another long, deep breath shook her. "I felt the tiara of Magic explode from my brow, and the other five, they...they no longer respond to my touch as once they did, and they weigh, oh, so heavily upon me...."
Concentrating, Cadance sent a curl from her horn to loosen the clasps at the back of the necklaces, had to wince at the hollow clanks they made dropping onto the surface of the platform. Aunt Celestia seemed to notice, too, her eyes popping open and her ears folding down. She struggled to get her front hoofs under herself, dragged her head up to stare at the Elements. "Then it's true," she whispered. "Luna and I have altered them yet again." She bent down to nudge the nearest—Honesty, Cadance thought it was, the gem in the center still bearing the shape of Clover the Clever's cutie mark. "They have faded to my senses, and I can feel them continuing to fade."
Cadance's mind raced. "But...the Elements are keeping Aunt Luna bound, aren't they? If they lose their power—"
"Six hundred, perhaps seven hundred years." Aunt Celestia raised her head to gaze into the deepening blue of early evening. "As surely as the stars circle 'round the sky, the day will come when Luna will escape her prison, and without the Elements, Equestria will be helpless before her." She lowered her gaze and focused it so sharply on Cadance that she could almost feel it. "Somehow, we must find another way."
"Yes." Thoughts of Elements and eggs and population growth swirled through Cadance's mind, half an idea forming there. "We must."