//------------------------------// // Dawn // Story: Duskfall // by Celestial Swordsman //------------------------------// Chapter 47 There was a white flash in the alley behind the fairgrounds in east Canterlot. An inconspicuous, drab pegasus crept around the side of a tent that housed a traveling magic show. Dusk nosed open the flap and looked inside. A blue unicorn sat by a candle watching for her and merely cocked an eyebrow when she arrived. “Small again?” “Sort of,” Dusk replied. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could be arrested just for letting me in.” “Trixie would do anything to have another chance to be the biggest show around,” the performer asserted, “If you can hold up your end of the deal, you’re in.” “Thanks for having me again,” Dusk said as she slipped in from the night. Trixie gestured to a cozy “room” formed by a couple of curtains, saying “It’s all yours.” The new stagehoof crossed the tent to her quarters. Trixie caught her before she could take to her private space. “All the bits, that’s what you said,” she reminded her partner with a sly smile. Dusk made a face as images of the Imperial mint spewing out its shiny rounds flooded her brain. “Bleagh,” she voiced her reaction. “I don’t need to see another one of those for a thousand years. Just remember, you said the great and benevolent Trixie.” Trixie rolled her eyes, and quipped, “Trixie guesses she really will do ANYTHING. Cheers.” She downed a celebratory shot of hard cider. Dusk laughed as she retired to her bedchamber. She self-consciously pulled the gap in the curtains tightly shut behind her. Dusk closed her eyes. Faint shimmers of dim light appeared around and above her. Drawing a deep breath, she stretched and grew up into the flickering outlines. Celestia’s outstretched wings brushed against the top of the tent. She folded them, lay down, and produced her prize. She rested the ancient book in front of her and paused to gaze at it. “All this for a good read,” she joked to herself. The gold emblem on the cover seemed to have regained some of its luster somehow. As she looked at the graven alicorn head, she could only wonder at him, the author. Who was he? Why would he do something like that for her, of all ponies? She had to find out. Maybe she would soon see his face as more than carvings and symbols. She quivered with illogical anticipation. Luna was right that she probably couldn’t have what she truly wanted. She would not accept that he was dead, but she feared she would only find denial in visions of his living past. After he had given her his life, such wonderful life, she could only wish to live it with him in whatever way she could. Books are generally read from the beginning. Instead she opened it to a point well past the middle and turned pages until she found one she recognized. It was the one they had found in the crystal cave at Ruhama. The curators of the Vault had returned it to its source, and observed that it fused back together on its own. Now it showed a simple sketch of the scene much as it was shown to her in the library, but with only the author standing on his death ground under the crystals. She did not let her gaze linger there; she did not wish to see that again. She flipped it over. The other side still held the image of herself, her eyes shutting out the dust of time as she waited forever for her mysterious rescuer. “If you want to see anything, you have to read before that,” she told herself. She didn’t. She wanted to read the next page. It was blank, of course. She stared into it deeply. She did not see or feel anything strange, but kept it under her determined gaze. She cast her heart toward it as if yearning could summon a response. After some time, she began to fear it had been for nothing. She lifted her hoof up off the parchment. It came up as well; it was stuck to her. She gasped as she realized she could no longer distinguish the white of her hoof from that of the paper. With wonder on her face she considered the situation. “Should I really do what I just thought?” she asked herself. She looked around at the dim tent and reassured herself that no one would see. “I am so going to,” she approved with a brave smile and readied herself. It did not take long; white fire beckoned. Celestia dove headfirst into the white. She felt a shock and a dizzying rush. She closed her eyes and panted as she plummeted through some flickering dimension that she could not navigate. Her hooves came to rest gently on the ground. As she trusted her legs again and stood firmly, she took in her surroundings. A garden with blossoming trees glowed an eerie hue under the red-purple light of an eclipse. Could this be a vision? She felt the earth and smelled pollen on the air. With alarm she realized she could not sense the sun or the strength that their connection brought her. Rooftops protruded over the flora and framed the unfamiliar sky. A row of tombstones with Tarpanaic etchings lay in the grass beside her. A low gate beckoned for her to enter another section of the cemetery. She took a cautious step out of the crater where she landed. She took another step and another, moving into a steady trot as if she knew where she was going. She accelerated eagerly. Rounding a hedge, she joined a cobbled path that led to an arched granite structure. The entry to the mausoleum was sealed and formidable guards stood watch. She paused as she surveyed the warriors that opposed her passage. A company of pegasi with swords or lances stood in a row across the path and hovered above the site. Beside the door two magicians in stately robes each maintained an orb of protective energy. Two manticores in glistening armor towered over the others as they leaned on their meteorite spears. She was not prepared to fight them if they would stand against her, but she felt she must move forward. She stepped towards them slowly. The manticores smelled her and growled, and advanced to the grounded pegasi, who tightened their formation. The pegasi above spread out and moved to both sides to encircle her. The two magicians stoically continued their arts. Celestia’s anxiety grew as she approached. She would have hailed them, but realized that she did not know their tongue. The warriors started to close in with a hostile bearing. The guards froze. Celestia paused, uncertain what had changed. There was some strange rattling sound. The hostile pegasi that whirled above abruptly broke away. She heard thuds and clangs—they had dropped their weapons! She realized now that the guards were shaking in their armor. The overwhelmed ponies collapsed. The manticores suddenly became like dumb brutes. They snarled, howled, and whined, tearing from their armor and bounding away out of sight. The threatening orbs of light were snuffed out, and the magicians fell forward. Celestia continued up the path, picking her way through the fallen soldiers and over a potent meteorite spear. She felt a growing awe, and not of herself. Finally she came to the solid door, which seemed as though it was not built to be opened. A great seal carved into the smooth face of the stone held runes that imbued it with layers of defensive spells. Some of the runes lit up against her, but she refrained from using her own magic against it. Disarming such a well-planned system would be treacherous and time-consuming. One of her hooves became hot with the energy of the spirit she carried. She lifted the hoof and held it gingerly an inch from the gate. The whole seal gleamed red at the threat. She touched it lightly. A flash split the stone and cast its pieces to either side. She recoiled from the explosion; but she had not been harmed. Celestia lit the octagonal chamber as she entered. A golden chest rested on a pedestal in the center. Above it loomed a forbidding statue of a manticore king. The stoic figure clutched the key tightly in its clawed marble fist. She wondered if the statue might be enchanted to defend its prize. The eclipse emblems on the key glowed and the metal resonated with a deep hum. It vibrated so strongly that it powdered the stone around it and soon it dropped to the floor. She levitated it into her grasp and inserted it into the keyhole without hesitation. The key went dark and silent as it freed the latch. She lifted the lid carefully and beheld the resplendent crown of seven points. She picked it up but was disappointed that it was dark and cold. She knew not what to do with it; she certainly could not wear it. She placed it on the floor and looked at it thoughtfully. It seemed empty but she felt that it should be full. Celestia breathed deeply and lowered her horn at it. She focused on that feeling of fresh life that had lingered inside her after she was reborn. The inlaid crystals began to glow. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the light in her chest. White flames climbed her horn. She willed it out of herself, heedless of the consequences. “I’ll give up all of my life if I have to,” she declared. But even as she felt it flow out of her, the spirit replenished itself in her heart, which beat faster and faster. A roaring blaze now lit up the chamber and pulled air in through the door. The flash of heat subsided to a gentle warmth with a gentle glow. She was done, but she still bowed. She bowed before her king. She realized she would eagerly become whatever he wished. A horn touched hers. The pleasurable exchange restored her own strength. She waited expectantly for what would come next, but was not expecting to hear hooves cross the stone beside her. She looked up and he was not there. She turned to see the flare as he teleported from the doorway. The broad golden portal remained open behind him. She could not sense where it led; it crossed layers of ether in a way she did not understand. She followed and teleported into it the best she could. It led her on another uncontrollable flight. She came to rest gently on a familiar hill. It was a cloudy night, her own night; she could feel the sun beneath the earth. Far to the north the spires and lights of Canterlot shimmered on the mountainside. At the top of the hill, the author who had rewritten her story waited, gleaming like bronze in a furnace. Above him the clouds parted to reveal a spiral of starry lights. She felt small under this galactic canopy. What was one star worth among a million? He seemed to value her greatly. Celestia was still uncharacteristically shy of meeting his gaze, looking down at the grass as she walked up the slope. How close was close enough? She yearned to press closer, but as his legs came into view she faltered, feeling unworthy. A strong hoof over her shoulders pulled her in. The acceptance drove out her fear, and she looked up into his face. The sight of his blue eyes glowing into hers overwhelmed her. They were wild and intense, but she finally understood the relentless compassion in that light. Celestia’s own eyes took him in until they were too full and she had to close them tightly. She rested her head on his chest. The delight! She gasped and gave a laugh, gasped again and sighed. He spread a powerful wing over her, despite the resistance her own limbs gave as they rose involuntarily. Would he find her crude? He understood her totally, and had loved her even in the depths from which he had raised her. Her position was totally compromised, which should have terrified her. He could use her or abuse her in any way, and she would not oppose him. But he cared for her more than she did. She lifted a hoof to stroke his skin, and was startled to feel something besides hair and muscle. There was an irregular line where flesh had torn and refused to heal. It was a scar. It was her scar. He held his little pony. She sobbed in his embrace. She had guarded herself her whole life, but she was safe here. She had known so much greed and hatred, but here she was loved selflessly. Everything was alright. Really, it did not matter what everything else did. She was completely satisfied just with this moment. She relaxed into him and enjoyed the peace he offered. The rhythm of his heart was pure music to her. Her heartbeat slowly changed pace until it matched his in blissful harmony. Too soon, it seemed, he pulled away. He must, though, or she would never have done anything else. “Why would that be so bad?” she wondered. His lips were just above her forehead as he inhaled deeply. He blew on her, into her. It seemed to her that she had been holding her breath her whole life. In truth, she was breathless, rapt in the moment; but she felt that she was breathing her first breath of free air. Full life filled her whole body as the flame inside her was rekindled to a mighty blaze. It rippled inside her skin and white sparks flowed out along her shimmering mane and tail. The sharp points of daylight soared weightlessly through the sky, carried by the wind that rushed from the top of the hill and out into the spread of the earth. The author left her side and took to the sky. Strong wings carried him through the atmosphere to the universe beyond. The whirlpool of worlds shone brighter to greet his return. He headed towards the core of the light, and his wake pulled the rift in the clouds shut behind him. She flew up after him and broke through the obscuring haze. Luna’s moon hung in place, unaware of what had occurred. She landed on the soft gray landscape and sat staring up at the dark void. Her heart sank. Why did he have to leave? After what she had felt, she could not bear to be alone; but she was not so alone with his life in her veins. He had not left her empty, but full. And if he had left a piece of himself inside her, he would surely return. “He could have left me a note,” she sighed. Her eyes lit up. “He left me a whole book!” She could not return to it as herself. With a prismatic flicker, she shrank to a small grey form. Keeping such wonderful secrets would cause her to burst—but that was a problem for tomorrow. She could not imagine calling herself “Dusk”; she had changed too much. She took wing towards the city and her traveling home. She rushed into ecstatic loops and laughed for joy. She was not trapped in the trailing end of a tragedy. She wasn’t settling into a domestic life to forget her past. She was starting a new adventure, and she would meet its challenges with life and hope. She had fallen, but now she was rising. Dawn settled down and soared smoothly and contentedly. She did not understand all that had happened—yet. “It isn’t so strange,” she thought. “After all, I used to own a phoenix.”