Carrot Top blinked a few times when she heard a knock at her door – coming just as she was about to take a bite out of some of her namesake product, of course; it was apparently that kind of day. Frowning, she glared at the door, mentally willing it to tell whoever was on the other side to go away, even as she crunched down on a carrot in a very determined and, she believed, threatening manner.
Naturally, the door remained inanimate and powerless to stop a second series of knocks. The farmer stood, looking forlornly at her lunch even as she trotted over to her front door. She’d just spent all morning plowing her fields for the next round of planting, and still had a long day ahead of her. She didn’t need an interruption to the one break she was likely to get today, least of all while her stomach was growling at her for having only half-finished her breakfast. With a beleaguered sigh, Carrot Top opened her front door.
“What?” She demanded of Luna Equestris, Shepherd of the Moon, Caretaker of the Sun, Mistress of the Star Beasts, Sovereign of the Three Tribes, the immortal, eternally youthful Princess of Equestria, and not the kind of pony you wanted to make demands of, and certainly not in the tone nor volume of voice that Carrot Top had used.
Carrot Top slammed her front door shut and willed herself to not exist.
Then she realized that the only thing worse than shouting at Princess Luna was slamming a door in her face.
Carrot Top slowly opened the door again, peeking out cautiously. Princess Luna was still there, looking at her with a bemused expression. Standing beside her was Trixie, looking like she was trying to decide whether to be sympathetic towards Carrot Top or else doubled over with laughter. Behind the two of them were two ponies of the Night Guard, both earth ponies, and behind them, another earth pony with a dozen adolescent foals from all three tribes, each in Colt Scout uniforms.
Luna smiled beatifically at Carrot Top. “Is this a bad time?” she asked.
---
My little pony, My little pony
Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...
My little pony
Friendship never meant that much to me
My little pony
But you're all here and now I can see
Stormy weather; Lots to share
A musical bond; With love and care
Teaching laughter; It’s an easy feat,
And magic makes it all complete!
You have my little ponies
How’d I ever make so many true friends?
---
Some part of Carrot Top’s brain that didn’t value life very much tried to make her say yes, this is a bad time. The rest of her mind fell upon that part and trampled it within an inch of its life even as it passed a message along to her vocal chords. “Um, no,” Carrot Top said, opening her door fully and waving a hoof. “Um, c-come on in, your majesty…”
Luna inclined her head in thanks, striding in with all the grace and poise that was expected of her station, making her way to Carrot Top’s living room. Trixie followed, having settled on smiling at Carrot Top. She leaned in close to the earth pony. “Don’t worry,” she said, the volume of her voice perfectly normal as she continued with “believe me, it takes a lot more than that to offend the Princess.”
“Shh!” Carrot Top demanded in a harsh whisper.
“Why?” Trixie asked. “The Princess can hear our heartbeats, probably.”
“Well, Dame Carrot Top’s, certainly, given how hard it’s beating,” Luna chimed in. Carrot Top only barely registered the usage of her knightly title of 'dame' instead of simply 'miss' - the earth pony was still getting used to the idea of being created as an official Knight of the Realm.
Carrot Top jumped, turning to face her sovereign. “I – I am so sorry, your majesty, I didn’t mean to – or shout – or slam – ” her front hooves gestured wildly as though she was physically trying to point out her excuses. Trixie ducked under one wild swing, backing away a few paces lest she be beaned in the face by the panicked earth pony.
Luna held up one hoof. “Please, calm yourself,” she insisted, inclining her head. “I’m the one who showed up unannounced while you were trying to eat – ”
“Food!” Carrot Top exclaimed, eyes widening. She rushed towards her kitchen, clambering about as she began digging around in cupboards and her ice box, looking for food fit for a princess and failing to find, at least to her eyes, food fit for even a visiting aunt.
Back in the living room, Princess Luna looked to Trixie, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Will she be alright?” she asked her student.
Trixie waved a hoof. “Give her a few minutes.”
Indeed, a few minutes later, Carrot Top came out of her kitchen, a tray balanced on her back and carrying enough of a hastily thrown together carrot salad to feed a whole herd of ponies, and laid it before the Princess. “H-here you go, your majesty, just, um…I-I just, I wasn’t expecting you – and, uh – m-must be hungry from the trip here…”
“It looks quite delicious,” Luna assured Carrot Top. “I wonder if you could pack it to go, however? I’m afraid this visit isn’t for pleasure, but rather is connected to your status as an Element of Harmony.”
Carrot Top blinked a few times at that. “O-oh,” she said, her fear not disappearing, precisely, but rather being replaced with more of a grim foreboding rather than embarrassed panic. She shifted from one hoof to another. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing out a nearby window, at her carrot field. “Will, um…I’m sorry, your majesty, but will it take long?”
Luna nodded solemnly. “About a week,” she said. “Hence, the colt scouts, whom I have arranged to look after your farm while you are gone.” She offered a slight smile again, this one consoling rather than bemused. “They all have merit badges in carrot farming, and will be more than up to the task of maintaining your farm while you are away, I assure you. And I will compensate you for your time.”
Carrot Top nodded, pressing her front hooves together worriedly. She couldn’t precisely say no to Princess Luna, could she? Not as long as she was the Element of Generosity, and a recently-appointed Knight of the Realm as well. “O-okay,” she said softly. “Um…I guess I better go grab my things, then…”
“Please do,” Luna said. She ruffled her wings slightly. “While the matter is…serious, I do not anticipate any problems. I would rather explain everything to you and the other Elements all at once, however.”
“No…problems?” Carrot Top asked, blinking. “So…so this doesn’t have anything to do with Corona, does it?”
It was barely perceptible, but Luna flinched slightly at the mention of her sister, the Tyrant Sun, the would-be Queen of Equestria. She didn’t let any discomfort show beyond that one slip, however, instead shaking her head. “No, it does not. As I said, I would rather explain everything all at once. Pack for a few days at sea, then go to the Representative’s Residency. I need to go and collect the remainder of the Elements now.”
Carrot Top nodded, as Luna and Trixie turned to leave. “Can I at least know where we’re going?” Carrot Top asked before they could.
Luna stopped, looking to Carrot Top. “The Sea of Tranquility,” she said. “Or more specifically – the isle of Tambelon.”
---
Far, far to the north, in the oftimes volcanic mountain range that served as a buffer zone between Equestria and the various southerly Griffin Kingdoms, lay the dormant but by no means dead volcano in which Celestia, the rightful ruler of all ponydom, had made her temporary home.
Hewn from obsidian and laced with veins of gold, the palace that Celestia had ordered her minions to construct sat suspended by three mighty bridges in the crater of a volcano, an ideal hiding place for her, as few ponies who would seek her out would ever think to check within a burning caldera. Not that Celestia had been hiding. She had been biding her time. Planning. Preparing.
But no longer.
Celestia trotted down from her golden throne. “Zecora!” she called, keeping her voice under control lest she shake the palace loose and send it tumbling into the magma below. “Zecora! Where are you? I have hidden long enough – it is time for action!”
The steps of the golden throne lead down to a broad, wide throne room, which also doubled as the first floor of the palace – there was simply not enough room for a proper antechamber. Across the throne room was carelessly scattered piles of gold, heaps of diamonds, and collected trinkets and sundries of little use but great value. It was the stolen horde of a green dragon. Celestia had used some of it thus far to fund the construction of her palace, and intended to use more to spread her influence into her sister’s stolen realm.
Her sister. Even the thought of that usurper made Celestia all but shiver in anger. Celestia stopped at the base of her throne, taking a moment to collect herself. Her mane and tail were already animate flames due to the anger she constantly felt at the usurpation of her position – the last thing she needed to do was let her anger get the better of her, express itself by compounding the heat of her flames, and subsequently melt her horde.
She might have been in a somewhat better mood, however, had Zecora responded to her call the first time. She did not like having to summon a servant more than once – five times was all but unforgiveable, and Zecora was rapidly beginning to run through the admittedly large amount of goodwill she had earned from the alicorn more than half a year ago, when she had aided Celestia in her time of need and helped prevent her treacherous sister and the corrupted Elements of Harmony from sealing her once more within the burning heart of the Sun. Since then, she had proven to be loyal and trustworthy, a rare quality in this day and –
Where was that zebra?
“Zecora!” Celestia demanded. The palace rattled from the force of Celestia’s exclamation, but didn’t collapse into the magma pool that lay beneath it. Then Celestia was off once more, head bowed low and wings ruffling in supreme annoyance as she trotted over to the stairs of her palace and up one level, to her servants’ quarters. Currently, most of them were hiding, having sensed her bad mood and giving her a wide berth. Her servants were, unfortunately, few and far between right now – Zecora herself; a small cluster of salamanders, representing a larger tribe over which Celestia now claimed total dominion, that peered from the doors to their shared quarters but did not attempt to waylay Celestia in any way; and Solrathicharnon – Solrath – the Red, an ancient dragon. This last did not properly have quarters on this level, as he was too large to fit anywhere in the palace beyond the throne room, and preferred to sleep within the magma that lay below anyway.
However, that was not the case today. Solrath was instead glancing in through a window in the palace, though all that she could see of the wyrm was one golden, blind eye. She heard the sound of the dragon inhaling sharply. “She is in her room, O Queen,” Solrath said, his voice a touch too subservient, probably passing over into mocking territory. Celestia would have to deal with that later. “Perhaps she is ill.”
“For her sake she had better be on death’s own doorstep,” Celestia hissed as she stood before Zecora’s door, raised one hoof, and pushed forward. The door, hewn from stone, shattered at the alicorn’s touch, and she found herself staring into the room of what was once, but not currently, her most trusted minion, inasmuch as Celestia felt she could trust anything.
Like the palace as a whole, the room within was kept magically cool, at least compared to the thousands of degrees that it should have been. Celestia had seen fit to grant Zecora a further boon of making the room appear as though it were within her native homeland of Zebrica – it looked like the inside of some tribal hut, decorated with masks, spears, and other trinkets and sundries, its center dominated by a fire pit and pot for brewing potions. It was before this pot that Zecora sat on her haunches, facing the door, head cast down and lips moving silently. She did not look up to acknowledge Celestia.
That only incensed the alicorn more as she took a single step into the room, opening her mouth to speak. She was caught by surprise, however, when Zecora suddenly glanced up, eyes open wide. There was no sign of the Zebra’s aquamarine irises, nor pupils – her eyes instead were white, glowing with power much as Celestia’s own did. Her face otherwise carried no expression as she began to speak, her voice sounding at once like her own, and yet somehow twisted:
“Know, O Queen of the glorious Sun,
“That far from here dark work's begun
“On an island lost to time and tide
“Comes a Ram with evil at his side.
“Black horns I see, and eyes of red
“Black heart I hear, calling the dead
“Red eyes he has, and fangs of white
“Red blood he seeks, and end of light.
“An army made of sticks and stones
“A palace hewn from rocks and bones
“A city built from hate and spite
“A plan hatched by dark of night.
“He sees his chance amid the stars
“A choice made breaks prison bars
“Freedom gained from the folly of one
“Who chose to fight, rather than run.
“A bargain struck to fight a power
“An alliance made in darkest hour
“To stop the rise of an ancient foe
“Sun's glory shall be brought low.
“This is what I see from so far:
“The return of Demon Ram Grogar
“The threatened death of the Eternal Dawn
“And the Return of Tambelon.”
Celestia froze as Zecora stopped speaking. The zebra’s eyes fluttered once, then again, before she swayed and fell onto her side, letting out a yelp of surprise that was completely at-odds with the scene that Celestia had just seen. She looked around as though seeing her room for the first time, and then noticed Celestia standing before her door. Zecora scrambled to her hooves, but only so that she could bow low, pressing her face to the floor beneath her.
“M-my Queen! I apologize for any insult!” she exclaimed. “My gift called to me, and you heard the result! I did not mean to ignore your hail– but – but I cannot control when visions come from beyond the pale!”
Celestia stared down at Zecora, before taking two long steps into the room, spreading her wings wide as her mane and tail both flared. “Visions?” she asked. “Ah – thy gift of prophecy of which thou hast spoken so highly. I have never seen thee demonstrate it before today.” Celestia was all too aware that she was letting herself slip into older, now-antiquated speaking habits. Under normal circumstances, she had little trouble adapting to the evolution of language, but the past thousand years had not been normal, and Celestia had found herself needing to make a deliberate effort to speak modern Equestrian – an effort she sometimes forgot to make when particularly incensed.
Zecora cringed. “I beg forgiveness, majesty, it was not my intention to ignore – ”
“Silence,” Celestia ordered. Zecora obeyed that command instantly, at least, once again casting her gaze to the floor below. The alicorn considered the zebra for a moment longer, before folding her wings on her side, forcing herself to ignore her anger and look at the situation logically. “Grogar is not a name you should know. It should be obscure even to Solrath.”
From outside of Zecora’s room, Celestia heard the dragon rumble angrily. Dragons were prideful beings, and showed that pride with name length – a syllable earned for every great achievement. To refer to Solrathicharnon as merely Solrath was a grave insult. But, he had failed in her initial task to him, and there was nothing that even a dragon as old as he could do to Celestia.
Zecora’s head remained bowed. “My prophecies enlighten me with visions and words,” she explained, “but I need to research their meaning as the time occurs. I am gifted with knowledge of what is to come – if given a library, I could – ”
Celestia fluttered her wings once more, and Zecora fell silent again. Her rhymes grew annoying, on occasion, though Celestia knew enough of zebra culture that it would be pointless to order her to stop, at least not without also inflicting lasting harm on the zebra to make her point clear, something she was uneager to do for something that was merely annoying. She was above such pettiness.
“There will be no need for research,” Celestia said, eyes narrowing as she turned around. She paused at Zecora’s doorway a moment, before setting her horn aglow. The door repaired itself in moments, though it remained open as she glanced behind her at the zebra. “Follow,” she ordered.
Zecora did so without hesitation as Celestia walked back the way she had came. “Solrath, salamanders, you will join me in the throne room as well.”
The dragon again rumbled, while the salamanders seemed uneager to be in the same room as the larger dragon, but a single glance from Celestia was enough to convince them to come. Celestia glanced at Zecora. “You have no control over yourself when your gifts manifest? A nod will suffice,” she added quickly at the thought of another rhyme. Zecora had her mouth open and ready, but did indeed nod instead of speak at Celestia’s demand. Celestia considered this as her little entourage reached the throne room and she climbed the steps to her throne. By the time she had turned around and settled down, Solrath was entering the palace through its great double doors, and Celestia had made her decision.
“You will be forgiven for your disobedience, Zecora, if your actions are not yours to control when your prophecies manifest,” Celestia decided. “Especially if your prophecies continue to yield news of such dire consequence.”
Zecora inclined her head in thanks, visibly relaxing. One of the salamanders – Behir, Celestia believed, though she had trouble telling the snakes apart from one another – slithered forward. “U-um,” he hissed sibilantly, “We, er…misssed what the zebra ssaid, Majessty…” Celestia supposed that she couldn’t rightly blame them for that, as they no doubt had imagined that she had been about to teach Zecora an abject lesson for ignoring her calls, and had not particularly wanted to witness a fate that could one day befall them.
Celestia looked to Zecora. “You remember your prophecy?” She asked. At another nod, Celestia waved a hoof, leaning back slightly. Zecora closed her eyes, and repeated it exactly, word for word, though without the odd inflection she had possessed its first time. At its conclusion, Celestia glanced to Solrath, the only one in the room who was possibly both old and informed enough to understand what had been said.
The wyrm, of course, did not see Celestia’s gaze, being blind. Somehow, however, he seemed to know that Celestia expected him to speak. “I know of Tambelon,” he rumbled. “An island, the only island, in what ponies call the Sea of Tranquility.” He hissed. “A tiny thing, covered in jungle and devoid of settlement.” The dragon looked directly to Celestia, a slow grin spreading on his mouth. “A recent development, I gather.”
Celestia let out a slight laugh. “Not recent, no. Not even for me. The island has been abandoned for some two thousand years, ever since Grogar was defeated by my sister and I.”
“Who wass Grogar?” Behir asked. At a glare from Celestia, he quickly added a “Your majessty?”
Celestia pressed her lips together tightly. “Tambelon,” she began, “was not always abandoned. Once, long ago, it was the site of an equine city – ponies, yes, but far more donkeys. When Equestria was yet young, only entering the end of its first millennium, the island of Tambelon, and the great city built upon it, was already old. Its inhabitants flourished on trade crossing the Sea of Tranquility. And they were a…peaceable, idealistic folk, protected by a strong navy from outside threat but having no interest in expanding their borders, concerned instead with philosophy and learning.”
Even Celestia knew that, coming from her, that was high praise. In an age where the nascent Equestria had seemed beset on all sides by monsters and hostile nations, Tambelon had been a bastion of peace and stability. It hadn’t lasted. “Thither went Grogar,” she continued aloud. “His body was that of a great ram, but his mind, and his soul…black as a night without my sister’s moon. Through treachery and deceit, he inserted himself into the royal court of the Tamberlaan, that he might gain access to their libraries of sorcery and spellcraft. Once he had what he came looking for…none on the isle of Tambelon survived.”
Celestia remembered it even now. Tambelon was small, yes, but not so small. In addition to the city, it had possessed small villages, farming communities and seaweed-harvesters that kept the Tamberlaan fed. Thousands of ponies and donkeys and even a few representatives of other races had called the island home, had loved, and lived, and never stretched out a hoof to harm their neighbors.
But when Celestia and Luna had flown over it to bring down Grogar…it had been devoid of life. Every jack and jenny, mare and stallion, every foal, had lain still wherever their life had been snuffed out: in their homes, their shops, their boats and their fields, even in the roads and the streets. Grogar had walked and moved amongst their bodies as though they were not even there, uncaring, unconcerned at his act of equicide...the sheer apathy he had shown towards his own crimes had pushed any thought of reason from Celestia's mind, and Luna's, as well.
“What did he seek that led to an event so bleak?” Zecora asked.
“Death,” Celestia responded, through hard-grit teeth, “and life-in-death. Grogar was a necromancer, a speaker-to-the-dead, with power over disease and decay, though his skill in the other forms of magic were by no means lacking. Starswirl himself, perhaps, was as mighty a sorcerer as Grogar…but no other mage, not before, and not since.”
“Who’ss Sstarsswirl?” Behir asked.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. She nearly reprimanded Behir for asking so stupid a question, but then again she supposed that salamanders cared little for pony history. “Irrelevant,” Celestia said, wings fluttering in annoyance as she pressed forward. “What matters is that my sister and I, when we learned of Grogar’s actions upon Tambelon, journeyed there to bring vengeance down upon him for what he had done to the Tamberlaan. For a full night and day, Grogar challenged us, defied us, fought us to a standstill – but no longer than that. My sister and I stood triumphant, and I would have slain him then in retribution for the death that he had brought to Tambelon. Luna, however, suggested a…different punishment. Grogar had desired immortality, you see – and so Luna stayed my killing blow, and suggested instead that we banish Grogar into the realm of Shadow.
“Time does not pass in Shadow as it does here. Centuries may pass here, but they amount to mere weeks within Shadow. Grogar's magics were more than strong enough to kept him fed and watered, and so instead he would suffer, marooned in a place beyond the world while that world learned of what he had done, became horrified – but then, over time, slowly but surely, forgot about him. He would be denied even the immortality of fame. And when at last none knew his name but Luna and I…then, he would be allowed to die.”
One of the other salamanders – Ravid, perhaps – blinked a few times. “That sseemss kind of hardcore for Luna,” she said.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “The morals of the time were different,” she noted, “and Luna may be slower to anger then I am, but when incited she has a cold fury that knows no mercy. Only now…” Celestia stood and stepped away from her throne, as the fires of her mane and tail heated up in anger. “Now I wonder if perhaps this was some plan of hers all along!”
“What do you mean, my Queen?” Zecora asked, a confused look on her face. She shied away from the heat of Celestia's flames, and the alicorn took a moment to will them to cool. Unlike every other individual in the throne room, Zecora was not fireproof.
Solrath chuckled slightly before Celestia could answer Zecora, as he sat back on his hind legs, tapping two of his claws together. “Her Majesty wonders if even then, Luna was plotting to overthrow her,” he rumbled. “A bargain made to fight a power…an alliance struck in darkest hour, yes? A plan hatched by dark of night…”
Celestia glared at Solrath as she advanced down the steps of her throne, but did not respond – he was right, after all. “A thousand years ago, my sister stole the powers of Tirek and stopped my rightful coronation. Perhaps that was only a final, desperate bid for power, however.” She paced around before her throne, glancing at her servants one at a time, before looking upwards. The gold-and-obsidian ceiling did not impair her vision at all if she did not will it to, and nor did the subsequent layers of her palace. She saw through to the night sky, and the waxing crescent moon that hung in it. “The magic that imprisoned Grogar within Shadow was supposed to last until my sister or I bade it leave. If he is returning, then, it can only be through my sister’s will. By corrupting the Elements of Harmony, Luna has already struck a grievous blow against me, and it has taken me half a year to fully recover. But the Elements could not banish me again – never again. Perhaps Luna now grows to fear my power…and so she seeks out allies. She means to bind Grogar to her will.”
Celestia shook her head. “The Elements, the demon ram Grogar, that imposter alicorn within Cavallia, and Luna herself…no small challenge even for me to overcome should she ever find me and attack. She would do anything to keep Equestria in her hooves, away from me – me! Her own sister – her elder – her better!”
“So what, then, shall we do, O Queen?” Solrath asked. He was back, it seemed, to playing the role of faithful servant. The act did not fool Celestia as he supposed it did, but she was content to play along for now. As long as Solrath did as he was bade, she cared little for what he thought of the orders.
Celestia thought. Prophecies were, by definition, forewarnings – Tambelon would return, but it had not yet. And Celestia had encountered no small number of true prophecies in her time, and had learned that they only ever spoke of what could happen – prophecies could be fought, and overcome, if one had a mind to do it. Perhaps there was still a chance to act before her sister struck whatever fell bargain she intended, and leave her designs stillborn.
One thing was certain. Grogar could not be allowed, under any circumstance, to ally with Luna. The cost to Equestria would be too great, and Luna would gain far, far too powerful an ally.
Celestia looked to the salamanders. “You shall remain here,” she ordered. “I see little use for a tribe of fire-lizards on an island. But Zecora, you and Solrath – ” again the dragon rumbled, his façade dropping for a moment, but he did nothing other than growl – “shall accompany me to Tambelon. Perhaps we can beat my sister there, and lay a trap for her. I can banish her once more to the Moon, and then slay Grogar as I should have two millennia ago.”
“As you decree, my Queen, so shall it be,” Zecora said, bowing low again. Unlike Solrath, Celestia found no hint of mockery in her voice. She was honestly loyal and obedient, prophet-induced tardiness aside.
Solrath, meanwhile, was pressing the claws of his forelimbs together tightly, and barred his fangs. “Luna…” he hissed, “banished. That is all you intend to do, O Queen, to such a traitor?”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. Solrath had a personal vendetta against Luna, as the last surviving member of a family of dragons that, some thousand years ago, had thought to invade Equestria and plunder it with Celestia no longer around to protect it. Luna had rapidly – and fatally – disabused Solrath’s father and most of his brothers of the notion, and the few surviving wyrms had fled. Solrath had apparently never gotten over it, however, and he desired Luna’s blood.
He would never get it, of course, but it was useful to string him along. “It is all I intend, Solrathicharnon,” she said, using his full name for added effect, “but Luna is treacherous by her nature. Perhaps you shall have your chance.”
Celestia doubted immensely that he would. A thousand years ago, Luna had stood tall against eight dragons and won. Solrath presented no threat to her. Luna would be banished within the Moon, for a thousand years or longer, as Celestia willed it. She would take back Equestria from her clumsy hooves, and guide it once more into the daylight, ensure that no being could ever threaten it and the foal-like ponies that inhabited it.
“We leave in one hour,” Celestia commanded. “And soon thereafter – Equestria will be mine once more.”