//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: A Simple Reflection // by FanNotANerd //------------------------------// Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Princess Celestia looked over her notes one last time. It was purely unnecessary; she already knew that the arrangement was perfect, the lines drawn straight and true. She looked up from the hastily sketched diagram on a page to the larger version chalked out over the stone floor. Most of the furniture in her quarters had been piled up around the sides of the room to make space for the intricate arrangement of lines, fractals and geometric shapes. While drawn on a flat surface, it had a strange depth to it, as if it extended far down into the floor. The effect would have been quite dizzying to one who had not spent hours drawing it.   Princess Luna had urged caution, and rightfully so. The amount of power required by the spell was unthinkable: nearly more than Celestia could generate, even in the midday sun.   But there was one thing her sister failed to understand. After all this time… all this preparation… Celestia had to know if she was right. If the spell even came close to succeeding, it would be well worth the risk. It was a dangerous trait, this thirst for truth, one she freely admitted had rubbed off on her from her student.   But there was nothing to be done about that. With a bracing breath, she lit her horn and began channeling power into the lines. The lines themselves had no effect on the spell. They simply served as a physical anchor, of sorts: something for Celestia to focus her power on.   Within moments, the magic had risen to a fever pitch. Stray arcs of magic erupted from Celestia’s horn, cracking and buckling stonework where they struck. The room around her groaned, as if it were a living thing being delivered a mortal wound.   But Celestia was past caring. It’s working, she thought, sweat beading on her forehead. Stars help me, it’s working.   ----------   There were some things in life that Shining Armour would never tire of. Good hay fries, for one, or the look on Twilight’s face whenever she was immersed in a book. At the same time, there were things he tired of almost immediately.   Heading his list was the surprised expressions on everypony’s face when he was seen walking around Canterlot Castle. But Captain, aren’t you supposed to be in the Crystal Empire with Princess Cadance?   Shining scowled as he walked past a startled pair of guards who had just asked that question. Sure, it was rude, leaving them without a reply, but he’d gotten sick of giving the exact same answer over and over: there were still things in Canterlot that required his attention. Prince or not, he was still Captain of the Guard, until Celestia decided to appoint a replacement. Shifts had to be inspected, speeches had to be given to new recruits, requisition orders had to be signed…   He paused at the door to his quarters, frowning. The door was slightly open, and soft clinks drifted out from inside. Moving by instinct, Shining lit his horn, preparing an immobilizing shield spell, and stepped inside.   The room looked just about the same way as it had when he’d left it about a month before, with one exception: several of his cupboards had been opened, seemingly at random. The occasional sound continued to come from the side room, overlaid now by soft mutters.   Shining Armour’s eyebrows met in fierce determination. I’ve got you now. He flung himself around the corner, roaring a wordless challenge—and stopped, blinking rapidly. “Fairweather?”   The grey pegasus in his room yelped in surprise, his involuntary jerk throwing a bottle in the air. He frantically reached out to grab it, and bounced it from hoof to hoof a few times before finally catching it an inch before it shattered on the ground. He was still in uniform, and a major's gold bands glittered on his shoulder. “Whit’s gotten into you?” he exclaimed in a rough burr, examining the bottle for cracks. “Ah almost dropped this! 'Tis a sin to waste good whiskey, you know!” His scowl, on a face already disfigured by a battle wound that had split his lower jaw, was positively sickening to look at—at least it would have been, had Shining not already gotten used to his friend’s ghastly visage.   Shining let the magic go and stepped forward, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Fairweather? What are you doing here?”   Fairweather gave a snort of ill temper. “Ah was tryin’ to surprise ye. Thought I could offer a belated congratulation for getting married an’ all. Maybe come some way to makin’ up for missing the wedding.”   “No, I mean… what are you doing in Canterlot? Weren’t you stationed in the Griffon Empire as a political liaison?”   Fairweather burst out laughing. “Is that whit they told ye? Imagine that. They’d take one look at me face and declare war right there! No, I was in charge of the real liaison’s escort. Granted, that duty fell to me when he went and ran off with one o’ the palace servants… can we just say it was a mess and leave it at that?”   With a grunt of effort, he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and inhaled the aroma. “Ah… that’s the good stuff.”   “Didn’t you give that to me for my birthday last year?” Shining asked.   “’Course Ah did!” Fairweather replied, pouring a generous measure into two crystal tumblers he’d produced from a pocket. “No offense, but my taste’s a wee bit better than yours, and Ah wouldn’t want to spoil this occasion with… blech… substandard whiskey. Now, then…”   He held the tumbler out and clinked it a clinked it against Shining’s. “To your lovely wife, stars favour her. Honestly, Ah would’ve given the world to be there at your wedding.”   Shining raised an eyebrow. “Changeling invasion and all?”   “Especially for the Changelings!” Fairweather replied. “Weddings are always so boring. Sometimes, you need a good invasion to spice things up a bit.” With a practiced motion, he knocked back the whiskey as if it were water and carefully placed the tumbler on Shining’s desk. Shining himself took only a small sip, out of politeness; even that burned like a mouthful of hot coals. He put down the tumbler with as much grace as he could muster, fighting the urge to cough. There was a very good reason he never drank.   “So what brings you back here?” he choked, blinking tears from his eyes.   Fairweather shrugged, pouring another measure of whiskey for himself. “Somepony needs to handle the recruits,” he replied. “Sure, they’re a sorry lot, but they always are, aren’t they? Physical exam’s too lenient now, if you ask me.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I tells ye… the state of affairs nowadays be downright pitiful. The recruits are useless, the griffons are restless, Princess Celestia hasn’t been seen for days…”   Shining frowned. “She hasn’t? Is something wrong?”   "Ah’ve heard rumours at best," Fairweather admitted. "Most I’ve heard is that her and Luna… they be working on something. Keeping it very quiet, they are.”   He shook his head. “But where are me manners? You’ve put up with me spoutin’ for long enough. How ‘ave things been in the Crystal Empire?”   “Surprisingly well. Cadance has been working on getting the old trade routes back open, and…” His voice trailed off. “Do you feel that?”   Fairweather frowned, although with his permanent scowl, it was almost impossible to tell. “Feel what?”   Shining Armour turned, perfectly aligning himself to the magic’s point of origin. Lots of magic. His horn itched with the intensity of it. Undoubtedly, nearly every unicorn in the area would be feeling the same thing, looking toward the source, and wondering what in the world was going on. Without even thinking, he lit his horn and sent out a questing tendril, trying to pinpoint the source. The effort quickly had a pins-and-needles sensation sprouting over his skin. Tracking spells had never come with the effortlessness that shield spells had, but he’d forced himself to learn them for their sheer usefulness.   As soon as Fairweather saw magic surround Shining’s horn, he straightened, every muscle tense and ready. His morose slouch vanished, replaced with a pose better suited to a griffon about to pounce. He knew well enough not to say anything, lest it break his friend’s concentration.   Shining finally managed to reach the source of the magic—and the weave fell apart. His awareness snapped back to his body with what seemed like physical force, tendrils of magic recoiling as if they were under tension. He let out an audible gasp and leaned against the wall, strength suddenly flooding out of his legs. “The Princess,” he gasped. “Something’s…”   Fairweather didn’t need to hear another word. He turned away, strode to the window, and, snarling when he saw that it didn’t open, grabbed a paperweight off Shining’s desk and hurled it through the glass. “Raise the alarm!” he bellowed as he leapt through the window, spread his wings and glided down to the training ground. “Rally to the Princess!”   Shining Armour forced himself to stand straight, sucking in deep, halting breaths as if he’d just run a marathon. His horn felt strangely numb, like a limb that had been immersed in ice water.   One thing was certain. Celestia was in danger. He had to get to her. Fighting the stab of pain that lanced through his head with every step, he pushed his way out of his quarters and set off down the hallway at a full gallop.   ----------   Celestia grimaced with the effort of maintaining the spell. The magic raged at her, enough power to level the palace and everything surrounding it for leagues. Teeth grinding together from the effort, she pushed herself still farther, summoning up reserves of energy she didn’t even know existed.   Part of her screamed to stop, to consider what she was doing—but she was just so close. Besides… she wasn’t sure if she could stop.   The magic reached a critical point… and reality flickered.   ----------   Shining Armour stopped dead, heart pounding. What in Tartarus was that? For a moment, it felt like there had been… more of him. Almost like that illusion of an infinite hallway when standing between two mirrors. Except that he could feel them all. Remember all of them. Somehow, impossibly, he remembered being enslaved by the Changeling Queen, falling in love with a pony that wasn’t Cadance, never becoming Captain, dying in battle, dying in an accident, dying at the Changeling Queen’s hooves…   He shuddered. The last few were the ones that disturbed him the most. Even now, they were already fading, like a bad dream, but the feeling of unease remained.   Shining shook himself and forced his hooves back into movement, suppressing a shudder. Stars, how could I remember that? How’s it possible to remember dying?   Another turn took him to the hallway outside Celestia’s chambers. Light from the setting sun slanted through the windows, bathing an elaborate mosaic depicting a rising sun inlaid on the floor. Shining had seen the mosaic so many times that it barely even registered any more. What gave him pause was the pony slumped just outside the door, cradling his head in his hooves and gently rocking, muttering something under his breath.   He must have gotten here before me, Shining thought, barely pausing.   As he raced past, he could make out what the guardpony was saying. “Not like that… not like that… not like that…” Over and over, as if the mantra might help him somehow.   Shining ignored him. The magic in the air was nearly palpable, strong enough to leave a metallic taste on his tongue. And it felt… wrong. Like it didn’t belong. For the first time, it suddenly occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to do anything against what was in there.   A scowl crossed his face. Well, let it never be said that the Captain of the Guard didn’t try. Without even slowing, he rammed the door, focusing all of his considerable might into the triangular point of his shoulder. The heavy oak doors, inlaid with gold filigree, splintered—as did his shoulder, from the feel of it—and swung inwards.   And at that precise moment, something tore.   ----------   Luna’s head snapped up from the pillow, every muscle tense and ready. There was no mistaking the hideous tearing sensation that resonated through her. For a moment, she just stared in the direction of Celestia’s quarters, her jaw hanging open in shock. “Is she insane?” she said quietly.   Without another instant of hesitation she hurled herself out of bed and galloped out of her room, supplementing her movement with magic.   She told me it was for practice, Luna thought as she sped toward the corridors. Just for practice. Sun consume me, I should have known!   On she raced, and yet, deep in her heart, she already knew that it was too late.   ----------   Celestia barely even noticed the door slam open. The magic had her in its grasp, and refused to let go. She was helpless to do anything save watch in horror as it seemed to take on a mind of its own, and shape itself into something different.   A hole—that was all it could really be described as—appeared in the air, and slowly tore its way downward. Celestia immediately avoided looking into it; the space within the rip held nothing but madness.   But she didn’t need to see the rent to know that something had just stepped through. Something that simply didn’t belong.   The flow of magic suddenly abated, as if it had been cut by a knife. Celestia stumbled backwards, gasping, and catching her first glimpse of the thing she’d inadvertently brought into the world. She didn’t allow herself to register much more than a vague equine shape and a drab, mottled colour to its coat before surrounding it in the strongest containment spell she could conjure. Concentric rings of golden flame sprang to life around the thing across from her, thankfully blinding her to it. Even the quick glimpse had sent her heart racing; despite the familiar-seeming shape, it exuded wrongness.   Only then did she allow herself to look over at Shining. Her Captain was staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “What…” he gasped.   His next words were lost as the shape in the midst of the flames took a calm, almost leisurely step toward the perimeter. Almost immediately, the flows of magic began fluctuating wildly in intensity; it was all Celestia could do to hold it together.   “Shining,” she grated, tendons standing out in her neck from the strain. “Run.”   Shining Armour only had time to take a hesitant step backward before the shape’s muzzle brushed the perimeter of the spell—and the entire thing exploded outward, the intricate weaves collapsing into a far simpler and more elemental force.   Celestia watched the wave of energy race toward her with a sort of detached horror. I didn’t want this, she thought. Stars forgive me, I didn’t want—   And then it was upon her. A burning fist picked her up and flung her back as if she were little more than a rag doll. From the corner of her eye, she saw the unforgiving stone wall racing toward her—and then she knew nothing at all.   ----------   Gritting his teeth, Fairweather raced toward the princess’ tower room, his wings burning with the effort. Twelve fully armoured pegasi followed him, lances couched in pauldron sockets. He could feel the wrongness emanating from Celestia’s quarters in a malignant wave.   But it didn’t matter. With luck, Shining was already there. All he had to do was hold on long enough for Fairweather to crash through the window, and—   The entire wall exploded outward in a deadly blast of pulverized stone and shattered glass. Fairweather instinctively backpedaled, flapping wildly as his momentum forced him into a stall.   For a moment, he simply hovered there, shock written across his scarred face. Then, “C’mon, you useless sods! Celestia’s in there, in case you’ve forgotten!”   “Sir, somepony fell!” one of the pegasi said. “I saw him, he fell into the river, sir!”   Fairweather paused. No. The world still felt the same to him. That meant his liege and his closest friend were still in it. “Pay it no heed,” he said. “Even if it weren’t your imagination, nothing could've survived that.”   Still, he cast an uneasy glance down at the river. For a moment, he’d thought he’d seen the same thing: an equine shape, falling limply among the shower of stone.   ----------   Far below, a dark shape broke through the river, snorting wildly as it expelled water from its mouth. After a moment, it thrashed its way to the bank and shakily stood, looking out over the open field.   It paused, nostrils flaring, sampling the odd smells of this landscape. For minutes, it stood in that same spot, taking in this new and unfamiliar world.   A passing breeze brought a new scent: one that was not entirely unfamiliar. It had smelled it in the closed-in-place-of-stone, but it had been laden with fear and aggression. It was never good to stay around others that carried those smells. No, these ones were different. They were happy, and friendly. Smells that promised ripe fields, and warm sun.   With a whinny of excitement, the equine shape set off for the source of those smells. To where the lights of Ponyville, coaxed into life in preparation for the setting sun, were just beginning to appear.