//------------------------------// // Part Three // Story: A Dream of Pride and Envy // by Tundara //------------------------------// A Dream of Pride and Envy By Tundara Sixth among the Great Sins is Sloth. For she who refuses to contribute withers away at the whole. -The Book of Sol, On the Seven Sins of Ponykind A sharp, bitter wind swept down from the Crystal Spines, rolling over north-eastern Equestria and plunging the lands into an unseasonable chill, in spite of the weather teams’ best efforts. Whispers of snow saw ponies pulling on their winter scarfs, despite only being mid-october. While the farm communities rushed to the harvest, students huddled in their classrooms, rubbing hooves against barrels to stay warm. Daring should have been in one such class herself. Instead she’d been put on academic probation and quietly sent home, the board of governors debating what to do about her unusual lessons. While they argued and trod slowly around the issue, Periwinkle took over teaching her class. She didn’t even have the distraction of papers to grade. So, she sat on her porch, wrapped in a blanket, gold cloth tied around her neck like a scarf. As a pegasus, Daring didn’t feel the cold as much as terrestrial bound ponies, yet she knew that even with the blanket and her natural resistance, the biting chill should have affected her more. That the cloth was magical, Daring was certain, adding it’s ability to ward off cold to the apparent regenerative properties she’d already observed. Daring wondered what else the cloth was capable of. Yearling rested against her, a similar blanket over her barrel and a cloud grey wing extended behind Daring’s back, a shiver passing through her every now and then. Blowing a long, curling strand of navy blue mane away from her golden eyes, Yearling gazed at the original journal sitting on the table in front of them, rereading it in it’s native High Unicornian as easily as if it were in Equestrian. “A piece of Clover’s Robes, it has to be,” Yearling said, gently flipping a page. “Or maybe from one of these other priestess. Not that it matters to whom it belonged nearly as much as the healing magic contained within its threads. Only the ancients were capable of such feats.” “And what of the dreams I been having, like,” came Plumb Bob’s voice, rattling out of the house as he emerged with a pot of tea and some warm stones for Yearling to place beneath her blanket. “Had another one last night, I did. Was a toad at a big party, and I kept trying to dance with this pretty princess. She turned into a dragon, mind you, but that’s not the point. That’s seven now since that package turned up.” Plumb Bob flopped down onto a chair, rubbing his hooves together as he chewed on the inside of his lip. “It must be the feather,” Daring reasoned. “The letter said there were gifts for all of us. The journal for Yearling, since she’s a historian and can actually read the thing. The cloth for me as it can heal. And the feather for you, Plumb Bob.” “But… why?” Yearling pressed, gently closing the journal before placing it into a specially crafted box, gems and spell matrixes covering its surface. “Fans have sent gifts before… But never of this nature. I don’t like it, love.” “Yes, well, it’s kind of like the time…” Daring’s voice trailed off as the gentle clop of hooves on cobblestone and the grind of wheels reached the porch. Up the pathway, a large carriage approached. This was not so unusual. Daring and Yearling lived far enough out of town that their friends, such as they were, often took a taxi when coming to visit, rather than walk. What was unusual were the royal guards, polished golden armour flashing in the afternoon sunlight slanting through the trees, that crowded over the path, their breaths puffing around their muzzles like smoke from a train engine. Daring’s jaw clenched as the carriage ground to a halt, a porter jumping down to open the wide door for the occupants. Engraved on the door, bright against the white paintwork, was the Royal Crest. The final confirmation came a moment later. A long white leg proceeded a pony far larger than any other. Celestia positively glowed as she exited the carriage, stopping a few steps away to glance back and say something Daring failed to catch. A second pony jumped out of the carriage, almost stumbling as she landed on the gravel path. She was a gangly purple unicorn in the awkward stage between being a filly and young mare, her legs having grown faster than the rest of her body. Cautiously, she followed the princess, her large eyes sweeping over the cottage before settling on the trio of stunned ponies on the porch. “Princess, I don’t understand why we’re here,” the filly said, her voice squeaking as it broke. “Patience, my faithful student, you’ll understand shortly,” Celestia replied as she headed towards the cottage. Trotting quickly at the princess’ side, the filly knitted her brow together. They stepped onto the porch, the confusion transforming to wonder as she recognised two of the ponies sitting around a table. Squeeling in delight, she raced across the deck, screeching to a halt just before Daring and Yearling. “You’re Daring Do!” the filly gasped, staring up at her with wide eyes, stars twinkling deep within their depths. Daring’s mouth fell open as she gazed upon an infinite expanse of space contained within those purple eyes, an entire cosmos that was supposed to hang above the disc, protecting the world from the void within which Ioka swam. “Can I have your autograph?” The filly demanded, producing an autograph book and breaking the spell her eyes cast by shoving it beneath Daring’s nose. The scarf around Daring’s neck blazed with a comforting warmth at the filly’s presence, receded a little as she scampered back to Celestia jubilantly holding her freshly signed autograph book. The warmth began to grow again as Celestia approached and took a seat, summoning her own cup. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she said as she poured some tea. “It is a surprisingly chilly fall. Twilight, please, settle down a little.” From between Celestia and Daring, Twilight ceased dancing on the spot, an odd celebratory flailing that had more in common with Zebrican fertility rituals than anything practiced by Equestrians. “I’m sorry, Princess,” Twilight wilted, her happiness melting like mist beneath the sun. “No reason to be sorry, my faithful student, but I think moderation is better at the moment. Smile and be happy, and when we return to Canterlot we’ll have a little, private celebration.” Twilight brightened a little, moving off to gaze lovingly at the freshly inked autograph. “Mr. Bob, perhaps you could take my student inside for a bit? I’d like to have a private chat with your mentors, and I think Twilight would love to see the library.” Celestia turned to Yearling and Daring, adding, “If that is alright with you, of course.” Of course it was. They wouldn’t dream of having the filly wait outside! Perhaps she’d like some warm juice. Just, not around the books. And she was to be extra careful in the library. Several other similar comments were made before Plumb Bob and Twilight had disappeared into the cottage. Humming to herself, Celestia said, “You don’t need to fear for the safety of your books around Twilight.”   “If your Highness is certain,” Yearling replied, staring at the front door in a combination of dread and anxiety. “Now, Mrs. Do,” Celestia began as she adjusted her position on the bench, “I hear you’ve been teaching some interesting ideas in your class lately.” Daring sucked in her breath, wings readying beneath the blankets she shared with Yearling to launch her forward. A touch from Yearling eased the tension while Celestia continued to speak. “Also, that you received a journal and letter, as well as a few other interesting curios. I would appreciate seeing them, if you don’t mind.” Hesitating, Yearling produced the journal. As she slid it, and the box containing it, over, she said, “There was an accident with the letter… Coffee…” Celestia raised a brow at the obvious lie, but didn’t press the issue. Taking up the journal, she skimmed through several pages. “Oh, Clover, always too gentle and trusting for your own good,” Celestia hummed as she flipped towards the end before snapping the journal shut. Returning the journal to it’s box, Celestia poured herself some of the tea. “So, it’s true? Everything in that journal?” Yearling asked, her cup clattering in her hooves. Daring had never heard her wife so anxious before, her wing extending protectively behind Yearling. Celestia was quiet for a few moments as she set her tea back down. “I can not say without reading the whole thing, but it was not Clover’s way to embellish or lie. She was honest to a fault, and a good friend.” The light of old memories filled Celestia’s eyes, her lips pulling up at a remembered joke or occurrence. “I miss her dearly.” “Princess… I was curious about your sister, Luna. The journal is rather… clinical in its descriptions of events. It’s almost like reading a court transcript at times. Great for conveying the facts Clover wished to share, but it doesn’t do so well presenting the character of the ponies involved. I was wondering… what was Luna like?” Lifting her head to gaze up at Sol through the trees, it was a minute before Celestia answered. “She is an artist. Not with a brush or music, though she has a beautiful voice. It is the battlefield that is her canvas. Luna has such a mastery of the sword that I was, to be honest, jealous. I am the older sister, and in the natural order of things, I am supposed to protect her. It was always the other way around, she protecting me. Ponies got it wrong; she didn’t bring out the monsters, she hunted them beneath Selene’s light.” Edging forward on her bench a little, Yearling leaned onto the table. “In the books I’ve uncovered, she’s described as…” “Aloof? Cold? Scornful of our little ponies?” Celestia said the words with a slight smile. “The truth is that, while she did become those things, they’re weren’t really her. Just a tool she thought she needed to protect others. After we ended the Age of Chaos, I was venerated more and more, while she was marginalised. This was largely my fault. I basked in being the saviour after so many years in her shadow. Pride blinded me to her pain. But the seeds were set long, long before then. Even if I had known, I believe it still would have been too late. “The Nightmare had set her hooks deep in my sister centuries earlier.” Having finished their first cups, Celestia poured them some more tea, a simple cantrip reheating the pot. A faint smile played across the princess’ fair features, basking in memories as old, and older, than Equestria. Leaning forward, she shook off the memories, a far more serious line making her jaw grow firm. “So, then, what do we do about you three?” The ponies in question to gulped simultaneously. For a brief, mad moment, Daring wondered if she’d be able to buy Yearling and Plumb Bob time to escape if she hurled herself directly at Celestia. Common sense prevailed. The passages on Celestia’s destructive capacity at the forefront of her mind. Even then, knowing that on a whim Celestia could destroy everything within a mile, Daring would have done so. Except, she was—as much as she hated to admit it—a far wiser and more cautious mare. Ten or Fifteen years earlier and she’d have already been attempting to kick Celestia’s flank. It’d hardly be the first time Daring took on a pony that was physically and magically her superior. A twinkle in Celestia’s pink eyes, the slight tug at the corner of her muzzle, and the way her wings ruffled, all gave Daring further pause. Her mouth fell open as realization struck; Celestia was teasing them. “Princess, did you send us these gifts?” The question was from Yearling, and it seemed to catch the princess by surprise. She tilted her head a little, as if she were examining a painting, before saying, “I did not. I am not so ghoulish as to give one of my little ponies a piece of robe soaked in my blood, no matter its healing or protective qualities.” Celestia’s wings jittered as she answered. Daring glanced down at the cloth tied around her neck, her coat crawling despite the warmth emanating from the fabric. “Who is she?” Daring asked, glancing away from Celestia and to where Twilight sat at the far end of the porch, nose deep in a pile of books gathered from Yearling’s library. “Is she a sister? Or… a cousin?” “I pray every night that it is the former, and not the latter,” Celestia dodged. “How can you tell?” “When she came near, the scarf grew warmer. It’s doing the same thing with you, ma’am.” “She could be Cadence’s daughter, you know,” Celestia laughed before finishing her tea. “Or your own,” Daring snorted. Instantly, she regretted the words. Celestia gave little reaction, only the slightest of winces, just enough for Daring to know how deep she had cut. Setting down her empty cup, Celestia sighed. “Your Highness…?” Yearling began. Thinking better of her question, she clamped her mouth shut. “Well, this has been an interesting and informative visit.” Celestia rose, calling to Twilight that they were leaving. As she stepped off the porch, she turned back to the couple. “I will refrain from confiscating the gifts, for now, under a few conditions. You are to withhold divulging the contents of the journal for the next few years. The time is not yet right for the information held within to come to light. Should you attempt to publish it beforehoof, I can guarantee that it will be discredited. Furthermore—” “Ponies have a right to know, Princess!” Daring stamped a hoof, glaring at Celestia. Celestia returned the glare with a sweet smile. “What they have a right to know, and what is best for them is not always the same thing, Mrs. Do. We are on the precipice of a great upheaval. You have already uncovered my student’s hidden nature. And, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that there are other revelations waiting in the shadows of the night. Do not try to take from my ponies one of their little, comforting lies, Mrs. Do. I would take it rather unkindly.” Celestia waited for Daring and Yearling to nod before she finished walking to her carriage. As she entered it, Daring and Yearling heard her say, “I was just telling them good-bye and a story, my faithful student. Nothing to concern yourself over.” And then the carriage door was shut and it began to roll away, leaving Yearling and Daring standing out in the cold, their wings extended over each other’s back. Neither breathed until the guards and carriage had disappeared around a bend.   Seventh among the Great Sins is Envy. For she who covets what others possess is as dangerous to herself as she is to others. -The Book of Sol, on the Seven Sins of Ponykind The Valley of the Eternal Foal, Late Summer, 12 B.E. Sombra glared up at Sol, still unmoved, with the moon hanging at her side. An almost unheard of occurrence. He’d studied the ancient texts, and knew it for a sign, a portent that great change was about to befall the disc. A sign that had been given to him in warning. “They knew… somehow… they knew…” Sombra muttered to himself, his words filling the otherwise still room. Lifting himself from his bench, Star Swirl asked, “Who knew? And what?” “I encountered three earth pony gypsies on the road to Marelencia.” Sombra frowned, then smiled, his eyes dancing with hope and greed. “They told me what would happen, and I didn’t believe them. Only Faust can see the future, afterall. A choice… they claimed I had a choice…” Sombra shook his mane and went to the pitcher of sweet wine left by the sisters on a low table. He emitted a bitter laugh as he gulped down a glass of the delicious nectar, his mind setting on a course he’d been walking for some time. “Three gypsies on the road to Marelencia you say?” Sombra wasn’t listening, his mind already far away. He muttered to himself, beginning to pace as plans and hopes danced in front of his eyes. “Obscurity and happiness or loneliness and power.” “What are you babbling about?” Star Swirl laid a hoof on Sombra’s withers, jostling the larger stallion out of his thoughts. Drawing one of his swords, Sombra began to inspect the gleaming steel. “Have you ever thought on the nature of a sword, master?” Star Swirl took a step back, tugging on his beard before answering. “I have not. It is a tool, nothing more. Even the ensorcelled blades are simply weapons, though they may argue otherwise.” “Ah.” Sombra grew silent, his eyes pinched and pensive, turning the sword this way and that as he contemplated it. “Yes, what other purpose can a weapon have? What other destiny could they possess than to maim and kill?”   Spinning, Sombra drove the blade into Star Swirl’s chest. The stroke was quick and precise, flawless in its execution. Star Swirl was given no time to react, no hope of conjuring a defense or deflecting the sword aside. “Why?” Star Swirl coughed, blood frothing from his mouth as he collapsed onto his side. “Because, my old master,” Sombra twisted the blade from the old wizard’s chest, blood pooling in the fuller, “it’s my destiny.” Sombra acted swiftly removing one of Star Swirl’s spare robes and donning it. With a simple glamour Sombra shifted and changed, transforming into a copy of his dead master. He didn’t bother to hide the body, simply locking the door before making his way through the manor towards Clover’s room. Knocking on the door, Sombra called in Star Swirl’s voice, “Child, are you within? We must speak on a matter of grave urgency.” The door opened with Clover standing on the other side, rubbing her eyes free of sleep. “What is it, master?” She gave a large yawn. “We must make haste.” Sombra pushed his way into the room, heading to Clover’s wardrobe from which he retrieved her robes. “Sol still has not set, and in a matter of hours the seventh dusk since Celestia was wounded will be upon us. Luna is with her now, giving what aid she can, but it is up to us to act. If we do not…” “Sol will die… The sun will fade and all the disc will be lost to darkness,” Clover concluded, hurrying to pull on her robes. Almost running to keep pace with the pony she thought was her master, Clover said, “But we healed Celestia! Sol should set!” “Her wounds were graver than we thought, obviously,” Sombra growled, the malice in his tone making Clover lift her head. “I should have seen it earlier. I am a blind fool, it seems.” “What can we do?” Clover’s voice edged on panic, her steps faltering for a moment. “Namyra.” Sombra stopped in front of the filly’s rooms. “With her help we may yet be able to save Celestia and Sol.” Clover looked uncertainly from the door to her false master, back to the door. “Master… You’re not suggesting—” “That we do what is necessary to save the disc. Worry not. I would never contemplate anything that would harm her, child.” “If… If you say so, master,” Clover could not hide the concern in her tone. Sombra just smiled and pushed the door open. Namyra slept in a bed that would have been large enough for a half-dozen adult ponies, or a few alicorns, covers drawn up to her chin. There was no hesitation in his step as he went to the bed and shook Namyra awake. “Star?” Namyra yawned, stretching her hooves and blinking blearily at the ponies in her room. “Clover? What’s going on?” “We require your help with a ritual, child,” Sombra said as he fished a cloak out for Namyra from her closet. “In order to heal Celestia.” “Really? But, Luna and Celestia both say she’ll be alright.” Namyra protested as she slid from beneath her sheets. “And yet, Sol has not set. A week and the sun has not moved, all the while her light dimming,” countered Sombra as he wrapped the cloak over Namyra. She was silent, adjusting the cloak’s clasp as she went to stand by Clover. “What can I do to help?” Namyra asked as they slipped down the sister’s stairwell and out a side-door into the gardens. “We’re going to recreate the spell used by the Cabal to make Sol set,” Sombra replied in a hushed voice, watching the manor for any sign that they’d been detected. “But Clover and I can not cast it alone. We need your help.” With a little skip in her step, Namyra gave a chipper, “Okay! If it will help Tia.” Sombra simply grinned, the bells on his hat giving a forlorn jangle. His was a purposeful stride as he lead the way from the gardens towards the mountain. They’d need a secluded place, a grove or little dell, where they’d have time to prepare the ritual. He held no illusion that the sisters wouldn’t soon discover Star Swirl’s body or that Namyra was missing. “Master, where are we going?” Clover’s voice was filled with confusion and uncertainty, the filly lagging behind her supposed master. “Why have we left the manor?” Putting on his most genial smile, Sombra slowed. “We need somewhere to craft the necessary glyphs, child. Somewhere that is safe but won’t be hampered by the manor’s wards. We can’t risk them interfering. Not in this. Something like—” “A cave?” Namyra asked, jumping up between Clover and Sombra. “Yes, that would do nicely.” Taking the lead, Namyra quickened her pace so that even Sombra had to hurry. “This way. I have a hidden cave that the others don’t know about.” Sombra doubted that the sisters were anything but aware of all the caves and hidden places along the length of the valley. Not that it mattered, so long as it would take them time to search other, more logical, places first. A cave would suit his purposes. It was not a particularly large nor impressive cave either. Sombra almost had to stoop to pass the low hanging entrance. A badger or some other animal had been making it a home, a den to one side before a sharp bend that lead to a decently sized cavern. A rotten wood play fort squatted along one wall, now little more than a pile of damp boards. It had been many years since any pony had visited the cave. “This will do perfectly,” Sombra declared, shoving the remains of the fort further out of the way in order to clear a circle. “But… Won’t we need to be in the open to cast the Setting Ritual?” Clover crinkled her nose at the mildew and mold. “The Cabal used to cast the ritual in the basement of a tower. Being under a mountain is unimportant.” Waving a dismissive hoof, Sombra instructed Clover on the glyphs they’d need. While she formed the first of the needed anchors, Sombra marked out the rest of the ritual circle. Though pressed for time, he took care to use aether untainted by his own magic, and thus glowing a pure white. He’d not be able to hide the nature of his magic once the ritual began, but by then, it’d be too late. Clover hesitated at the second glyph, chewing on her lip a little before turning to Sombra. “Master… I don’t recall there being any Dark runes in the Sunset Ritual. Are you—” “It is a slight modification, nothing more,” Sombra countered as he continued the work of inscribing the casting circle. “This spell was meant to be cast by several members of the cabal, but there are only two of us. For this to work we’ll have to borrow a small portion of Namyra’s power.” Tilting her head, Namyra asked, “Borrow my power?” Chuckling, just like his master would, Sombra made a soothing motion with his hoof. “It will be but a tiny sliver, child. All we need is a…” he struggled for a comparison for a moment, before saying, “a push, to get the spell started. You will not be harmed.” “Okay. You’re really good at magic, and my cousins trust you.” They worked in silence as the remaining glyphs were formed, large menhirs pulled from the stone to act as anchors for the ritual. Sombra kept an eye on Clover the entire time. She was both required and a threat. Until the ritual was started she could not suspect his true goal. He didn’t breathe easily until the final glyph was in place and the circle completed. Such a pure, trusting soul, Clover. Sombra couldn’t help but smile as she took her spot within the second ring, Namyra moving to the center. Licking his lips, Sombra inspected the runes one final time, insuring that they were properly inscribed. Satisfied, he nodded to Clover. “We begin with a simple containment spell, something that can hold your power, child,” he said to Namyra, putting on his most comforting grin. From the way both Clover and Namyra frowned, Sombra wondered if, perhaps, they’d seen through his ruse. “Even a bare fraction of your power will be immense, and without a proper vessel it would prove to be too dangerous to harness. Remember, this is for Celestia.” “For Celestia. Right.” Namyra gulped, though her little legs trembled. “Let’s get this over with.” “Master, are you certain there is no other way?” Clover let her doubt fill the small cave, her head drooping and shifting on her hooves. “What of the Queens? Or Luna? Surely—” “Luna is buying us the time we need to help her sister. As for Iridia and Faust, we do not know where they have gone, nor why they have yet to return. We must assume that they are indisposed in some capacity by Amon, for the time being. Celestia is our most pressing concern, child. We must act swiftly,” Sombra grinned as one of his old master’s many saying popped to mind, “a Wizard must be sure and true in their course. Do not give in to doubt.” The effect was immediate, Clover snapping upright, and giving a firm nod. “Of course, master.” They began the spell at once, magic flowing from their horns into the circle. Sombra’s gut twisted into his chest at the final hurdle. While he could glamour his appearance, and knew his former master’s mannerisms well enough to impersonate Star Swirl, there was nothing he could do to hide the nature of his magic. The smokey grey wisps of aether that rolled from his horn were clearly not those that belonged to Star Swirl. Fortune continued to favour him. Sombra grinned as Clover clasped her eyes shut, concentrating on her portion of the spell. Like a line of ants, their combined magic weaved and wandered through the casting circle. The glyphs hummed to life, amethyst strength flowing from each, growling like an angry hound, rising throughout the cave.      Namyra glanced uncertainly at the glyphs and then Sombra. A bolt of hungry energy flashed across the ring, jumping from glyph to glyph as it formed a star. Rebounding off the final glyph, the magic arced into Namyra, driving the filly to her knees. She grunted as the magic pushed through sinew and bone towards something deeper still. It coiled around her essence, sniffing at the boundaries between the physical and aetherial. Namyra collapsed, ice shooting through her veins as it struck and then pulled.    Sombra began to laugh in triumph. “It works! I knew it would! Quickly, begin the syphon!” he ordered as he channelled more magic into his horn. “We must hurry!” “Please, stop!” Namyra begged, twitching and writhing on the ground. Parts of herself that she’d never been aware of before were yanked and twisted out of her, streams of silver cored blue magic flowing from her like blood. Her magic coiled around her, a protective serpent that hissed and snapped at the energy piecing Namyra from the casting circle.   Namyra gasped as her eyes were ripped open and she Understood.  In the valley below, she could see the Earth ponies and Pegasi, unaware of the desecration being performed above. She could see their dreams, forming and bursting like minature novas, white on an even whiter tapestry. Foals dreamt of their soul marks, lovers of their paramours lips, and the elderly of days when they were strong and full of life. More and more appeared, each like a little sphere that clung to the dreamer. Hundreds, then thousands, floated up before Namyra’s eyes, and she knew her destiny. “Stop!” she roared, teeth clenched to hold back the pain. Namyra’s voice broke through to Clover, piercing the wall of her concentration. Opening her eyes at last, Clover almost dropped the spell, instinct saving her at the last moment. The backlash would have been catastrophic with the amounts of raw energy coursing through the cavern. There shouldn’t have been so much energy. The runes were meant to only extract the barest sliver of Namyra’s magic, enough to act as a catalyst for the true portion of the Sunset Ritual. Clover had seen such spells before, though never cast one herself. Through the doubt and confusion twisting at her heart, she tried to piece together why the spell was going so wrong. Namyra wasn’t supposed to feel a thing, and yet she continued to writhe and twist at the circle’s heart, drawing deep gasps before screaming anew. It clicked all at once, the way Rim was bound to Qun, the dark rune hovering above and between the pair. The spell, as it was laid, wouldn’t take a portion of Namyra’s power, it’d strip it all until there was nothing left. “Master!” Clover yelled, trying to be heard above the crackling bursts of magic. “The ritual… It will kill her!” “She’ll be fine,” Sombra shouted back, his own heart racing as thick bands of magical fire engulfed the carefully inscribed runestones. “So long as we begin the Sunset Ritual before her divinity is fully asserted.” His jubilant laughs were cut short by a flare of azure magic bursting from Namyra’s chest, scouring the ground in a rumbling crackle. Grinding his teeth against the pressure forcing it’s way down his horn, Sombra fought to re-assert control. “Master, we must stop!,” Clover shrieked, trying to figure out how to wean herself from the spell. She had to be careful, releasing the spell too fast would force it all upon her false master in a tidal wave of uncontainable energy, and she didn’t even know what effects it would have on Namyra. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be doing this.” “Maintain the spell, Clover,” Sombra tried to shout above the tumult of magic. “There can be no weakness or all the disc is doomed.” Still writhing in the shell of magic at the rituals heart, Namyra reached out towards Clover. “Please, help me.” “No, this is wrong,” Clover cried, attempting to end her connection to the ritual. Namyra howled louder still, her back arching as a gout of arcane fire tore free and scoured the ceiling. In a panic, Clover reapplied her magic, cutting the discharge short, even as it continued to syphon and draw Namyra’s essence free. Before each of the menhirs, a crystal took shape, forming from the condensed bands of aether drawn from Namyra. Seven crystals, each a different colour. Gasping like a fish in the bottom of a boat, Namyra reached out a hoof for the closest crystal, silent pleas twisting her pained face. Sombra ignored her, reaching out for the crystal formed by the Dark glyph. His heart raced as he clutched the small thing in his hooves. He could feel the power it contained, the promise of immortality and strength it offered driving him forward.   “Thank you, Clover, I couldn’t have done this without you,” Sombra said, dropping the glamour. He smirked at the betrayal that drove into Clover. Ending his own connection to the ritual, Sombra turned and left. All Clover managed was an incoherent shriek of blind rage, the ritual rebounding upon her without Sombra. As before, instinct saved Clover again, taking up the strands discarded by Sombra before the spell could destabilise and backlash upon her.   Clover tried to figure out a way to undo the spell. Alone it was impossible. She lacked the strength and skill to reverse the spell, let alone contain it. In desperation, she grabbed at the nearest menhir, attempting to rewrite the glyph. It was a foolish last gamble, but she could see no other option. Pouring as much power as she could spare from holding the spell together, Clover almost succeeded. The rune began to change, its outer bounds rippling as it strained against Clover and the forces being channelled. No wizard could alter a rune mid-spell, however. With a tremendous bang, menhir, glyph, and crystal all shattered, a blast striking both Namyra and Clover, hurling the later from the circle. Clover landed with a bone crunching smack atop the broken remnants of the wood, their rotten nature sparing her from worse harm. Atop the pile of wood, a glowing emerald halo of loose aether covered Clover. She stared at the gentle little fires dancing along her limbs, idly wondering why it didn’t burn. Then she began to scream, the sharp piercing sounds echoing those that had been spent by Namyra. She clawed at her face, hooves scratching and pulling at the magical fire. Soot and ash fell down her muzzle, tumbling between her desperate legs. Toppling from the pile, Clover tried to pull herself towards Namyra, stopping after a few length where she lay still. Namyra smiled as the chains of energy holding her began to buckle. Indigo flames liquified the remaining runes, their hold weakening as they grew unstable. Like the crash of an avalanche, once one had shattered, the others quickly followed. Namyra’s smile turned into a twisted howl as the tendrils of her essence connected to the ruins were torn free and severed, completely drawn into the remaining crystals. She jittered and shook as a third then fourth part of her soul was torn off, the menhirs binding her destroyed and the crystals connected to them vanishing, propelled to some distant corner of the disc. Summoning all the magic she could, Namyra reached out and grabbed the remaining threads, attempting to pull them back into herself. Her gaze drifted down to Clover, the other filly’s breaths slow and shallow. “You did this. You and your master,” she snarled, the words inaudible over the crackling magic, even if any pony had been present to listen.  “I curse you, Clover! I curse you and all your kind. None of you will ever dream again. I bar the unicorns from my realm,” Namyra reached out with senses she never knew she possessed as she snarled at Clover. She could see all the dreams, all the myriad little hopes and bubbles that formed and flew from Oneiros, carried on the wings of black songbirds. Closing her eyes, Namyra reached towards the realm of Dreams, her realm, and closed the unicorns’ gate. She could feel it rattling shut, the Oneiros dreambirds chittering as they were driven back. Chains, each as thick as three wagons, criss-crossed the gate, lesser chains connecting them together. A few of the oneiros slipped between the chains, while most were repulsed and driven back. Namyra gritted her teeth, willing the gate to close faster and be fully sealed, only for the chain to stop at the last moment, a small flaw allowing a narrow passage for the oneiros. “I curse you…” Namyra repeated, pulling herself to her hooves, only to fall, her legs twitching as she was lost to shadows, all the world drifting and bleeding away while the final rune broke, catapulting its crystal across the disc.  Neither Namyra nor Clover was aware of their names being called, of the pounding of hooves, and of a dozen forms rushing into the cave. Luna led the Sisters of Spring, following the dying traces of magic left by the ritual. She didn’t slow as the horror became apparent, barely sparing a glance for Clover as she went straight to Namyra, scooping her cousin into her legs. Her heart hammered like the steps of an ancient wyrm, Luna’s entire body shaking with each beat as she nuzzled Namyra, seeking the comforting presence of her cousin’s breath. There was nothing. No breath. No heartbeat. No magic. Gone was the comforting presence of Namyra’s essence, the slight tingle that manifested at the base of Luna’s horn whenever she was near her family. She could sense Celestia still back at the manor, a low hum of building light that could blind and burn the world, but of Namyra there was nothing. Luna laid her cousin down, saying nothing. Standing, she made her way out of the ring of sisters that had formed around her and approached Clover. A few sisters had gone to tend to the filly. They made a path for Luna, their heads held low, grief etched deep upon their brows. Luna was unsure what emotion it was that flashed through her, driving a hot knife between her ribs, when she looked down on Clover and saw that the filly still lived. Rage, hope, disgust, or joy; all were equally at play. Brushing aside the burnt remnants of Clover’s mane revealed the filly’s eyeless gaze. Blackened holes were all that remained of her inquisitive eyes, the last fading tendrils of the magic that had struck her still smoldering within the sockets. Luna’s gorge rose at the sight, even with all the horrors she’d seen and battled over her two centuries of life. Clover’s small hoof shot out, grabbing Luna’s own. “Save her! You must save her, Luna.” “I can not. She is lost to us.” The sisters gasped and cried, a few uttering low curses. Luna herself felt only a cold fury as the words slipped free of her tongue, silently promising that the ponies responsible would suffer for their transgression. “No… I can hear her. She’s screaming still, alone and frightened. I can hear her…” Clover gripped Luna tighter, her voice cracking as she pled. Luna was silent for a few moments, searching Clover’s face for deceit. Seeing none, and knowing in her heart that Clover was wholly incapable of the act that surrounded them, Luna bent down to touch her horn to Clover’s. She had to know the truth of what had transpired, and to do so she needed to access Clover’s memories. Pushing her thoughts through their connected horns, Luna entered Clover’s mind. At once she was struck by two presences; Clover, and another that skulked and prowled like an angry cat around the edges. Luna tried to focus on this intruder first, but it slipped away. All she could tell was that it was old, though far from ancient. Clover herself was curled into a tight ball, face scrunched up as she maintained a shield to hold the other at bay. Over and over she repeated the words, “I can hear her. I can hear her. Why won’t she stop screaming?” “Clover the Clever, stop this,” Luna shouted, only to have her words drowned out by Namyra’s thundering voice. “I wish I was as pretty as you and Celestia… Will I have a mane like yours when I grow up? How come you get to join the armies? We’re the same age! I want to help!” Luna stiffened as each word hammered upon Clover’s shield, emerald bursts of light crackling in the dark. She recognised them from a conversation she’d shared with Namyra years before. “What in Harmony…?” Luna took a half-step back, ready to break the connection between her and Clover. But she stopped, driven by hope and the need for answers, she turned from Clover and addressed the void. “I do not mean thee any harm.” Luna held out a hoof. “Come out, so we may talk.” The presence drifted closer, and this time Luna could detect Namyra’s essence, but it was wrong, twisted and corrupt with a vile undercurrent that set Luna on the back of her hooves. It was nothing like when she’d taken Namyra to visit Celestia in the heavens.   “I don’t like it,” responded Namyra, her voice unnatural and strained, as if it were being pulled from her rather than spoken. “What’s it like? Life among the mortals, I mean.” Luna’s face fell, her hoof shaking as the words conjured up memories of the last day they’d spent together as a family, everypony together under one roof. “Namyra, it is I, Luna, your—” The remainder of Luna’s words were lost as Namyra lunged, a beatial screech slashing across the mindscape. She grappled with Luna, invisible claws sinking deep into Luna’s shoulders. Luna threw herself backwards, attempting to shake Namyra while breaking the connection between herself and Clover. Memories, both hers and not, assaulted Luna as she reeled away from Clover. She was looking up at herself, tucked beneath one of her wings. Luna towered over her, so regal and commanding, but with a hint of sadness in the corner of her eyes. She envied that figure. A pang of deep longing to have what she had, to be among the ponies, to see their cities, to learn the odd, new ways of speaking, pierced her. And then the memories were gone, like a soap bubble popping on a thistle. “Your Grace,” cried a chorus of voices, the priestesses appearing at Luna’s sides to steady her as she slumped. “I am fine,” Luna brushed the assistance away. Pushing her way forward, Tempered asked, “What happened? You were fine, then you fell as if struck.” “She is still here… And if she is still here… I can save her.” Luna rose onto shaky hooves. Her heart raced. She knew that what she was about to attempt had never been done. Once dead, no mortal could be brought back to life. Or so it was said. But Namyra wasn’t mortal, she was immortal, and the same rules did not apply to her, as they did not to Luna, Celestia, or their mothers. Closing her eyes, Luna stretched her mind towards the heavens. She found Celestia waiting for her, pacing about the sky above the valley. “Luna,” Celestia shouted in tense relief. “What is going on? You left so suddenly… and that disturbance… What has happened?” “We have no time for explanations. Sol must set this instant, I require the aid of my stars.” Luna pushed past Celestia, making her way towards Sol and Selene. “For what I am about to attempt, Celestia, I will require the power granted to me by Selene’s grace and the star’s light.” Celestia didn’t argue or press her questions; the force and desperation flowing from Luna like wind down a mountain slope spoke volumes. “I will need your help, then.” Celestia drew up beside Luna. “I will show you a trick that always sends her to rest.”  Love? Sol gave the approaching goddesses a suspicious look. The suspicion turned into a grim glower when neither slowed as they drew near. I am not… Her voice trailed off as Celestia began to sing. Brushing herself against Luna, Celestia guided her sister in tracing a line across Sol. Their essence swirled up and down, swished left and right, and as the lullaby drew to a gentle close and Sol gave a deep yawn, Celestia and Luna pushed together. Sol departed the heavens, snoring as she journeyed towards Ioka’s shadow where she would regain her full strength, night at last claiming the disc. “Thank you,” was all Luna said as she reached out and woke the stars. Celestia followed Luna as her sister began to call the stars together, drawing them from their age-old constellations. Some yawned, others grumbled, but most playfully sprang about the night, stretching after a week of being cooped up by Sol’s light, faded though it had become. Addressing the stars, her voice booming with such volume across the heavens that ponies and beasts atop even a moderately tall mountain could hear her, Luna said, “Namyra has been… hurt.” The stars murmured, while Celestia was brought up short. “To save her…” Luna’s voice trailed off, indecision almost claiming her, but with a flash, she pushed onward. “To save her I need one of you to fall.” A wish? You want to force a wish? cried Mintaka, the Luckstar, and leader of the Three Sisters whom made a game of predicting the future. “Only to—” You can’t force a wish, dear Luna, interrupted Arcturas, the Stormstar huffing and snorting like a wild beast as she paced to and fro. Many, many stars hummed and bounced in agreement, a few going so far as to shout, It’d be wrong! Corrupt the wish! Nothing good, nothing good will come of it, mark our words. “Please! She needs our help!” But the stars would have none of it. Many began to wander off, returning to their appointed spots in the heavens. A few gathered to one side, Sirius at their heart, the Firestar, greatest and brightest of the all, shrouded in a contemplative light. Luna called them to stop, to come back, to lend their aid. She flew to a few, those she knew to have kind spirits, but this only drove more away.       She turned to Celestia, her sister hovering a short distance away, her form crackling with worry. She turned to Polaris, the Lodestar directing her sisters back their their homes. She turned to the disc, and looked on a certain valley, the lights of villages blinking awake as ponies lit candles. “No…” Luna hissed. “I can save her. I will save her.” In a bolt of blue fire, Luna roared to the nearest star. Zana, the Whisperstar, yelped as Luna grabbed her. With a single, wrenching tug Luna cast Zana from the heavens, shouting as she did, “Forgive me!” The other stars cried out as one; screaming, cursing, howling Luna’s name. Damning her for what she had done to their sister. All except Sirius, the Firestar blazing brighter until she was like Sol in miniature, holding back any other star that made to follow. Luna fell alongside Zana, collecting the raw aether stripped from the star as they passed through the boundary between the disc and the heavens. Within the tumbling inferno, Zana began to change, her body of light and pure magic reshaped into that of a dark pegasus. Wings snapped and tried in vain to slow Zana’s fall, their angles at odds with one another and her spiralling motion. Not that they could help. With a shove, Luna redirected Zana’s trajectory so the star would land in the vicinity, at least, of her already fallen sisters. The Valla would be able to guide and protect Zana while she learned the realities of her new form. In time Luna would join them and apologize for what she’d done. A sharp crack and burst of light heralded their arrival into the sky, the barrier trembling at the hole Zana’s fall left. The barrier would mend, as it had every other time a star had fallen. Zana no longer threw stray magic in her wake, what remained tightly bound within her new body. Whatever demands of punishment or reparations Zana would make, Luna would gladly pay. Cringing at what she’d done, Luna turned away and returned to the valley and her own body, the magic she’d collected held close. The priestesses were where Luna had left them, as was Namyra. There was no contemplation nor doubt as Luna stood and strode towards her cousin. Zana’s stolen magic burned inside of her, writhing at its containment. She was halfway to Namyra when the first wish arrived. I wish my dolly were alive so I’d have a friend.     The loneliness infusing the wish almost made Luna stagger. A filly appeared, sitting on the porch of a seaside cabin, a wooden doll clutched in her hooves. There was not a light nor sign of civilization for as far as the eye could see. Even the home felt empty, no warmth flicking within, and the loose shingles on the roof rattling in the sharp wind. Gritting her teeth to hold back Zana’s magic from leaping towards the wish, Luna took another step. I wish my daughter to be healthy, wise, and beautiful. Hope and fear. An expectant mother replaced the lonely filly, a fair coated mare sitting in a garden, her sides large with the developing foal. Nestled beneath a willow were five tiny graves, each marked by a name and an age, none more than a few years. Luna shook off the vision, her wings extended as if she were falling. The starscape in her mane crackled, waves of reddish-purple sparks coursing from the roots to the tip. I wish for the knowledge of Lost Marelantis to protect my ponies. Princess Platinum snapped into view while the mother faded. Luna’s friend sat at her desk in her study, a tear stained letter open before her. The words on the letter were ineligible, but they didn’t need to be, the stain of suffering they’d left on the young princess was all Luna needed to know what they said. Platinum was unbowed even in the face of loss, taking her pain and shaping it into a tool to serve her nation. A snapping hiss broke from the corner of Luna’s eye, a tendril of star-aether dripping down her cheek as if it were a tear, as she pushed forward. I wish to be a princess so I may court Prince Faith. Love, True Love, gripped the wish as it crashed upon Luna. A young pegasus sat on a rickety cloud, great Pegasopolis floating in the distance, the city a glowing white in Selene’s light. She possessed nothing but the vest on her back and the winged monkey perched on her withers, sharing in the meagre scraps of stale bread they’d been given by the baker’s husband. Unlike the other wishes, Luna could see the outcome and consequences of ignoring the mare’s plight. To grant the wish meant the rewriting of the young mare’s origins, and future. She would have been born to royalty and privilege, a member of a rival city’s ruling family. The mare would be faced with hardship and trials, her love not easy, but in the end, triumphant. Beyond it lay a line of Queens; strong, proud, and just. All from the line of Pansy. Ignore the wish, and Luna would doom both cities to ruin and despair. One would plummet from the sky, covered in ice, a terrible shadow falling over it, while the other would be lost to the lands it once called home, the protection offered to the Earth Ponies that lived in it’s shade gone. Predators and beasts would feast, and the land would become empty and wild, home only to unburied bones and dreams. Froth covering her coat, legs trembling, Luna made her choice, shouting, “I wish to have my cousin returned to me!” She pressed all her weight and despair into the cry, launching the stolen magic at Namyra’s cold body. Waves of primal aether swept between Luna and Namyra, pulsing with life, love, and hope. Luna gave a triumphant shout as the last of the magic left her. The priestesses looked from one another, stepping back from Luna as she panted and began to laugh, the sound going from one of victory to worry as the sands of time fell. “It… It should have worked…” Luna whimpered as her laughter died away. Tempered stepped up to the young goddess, her hoof hovering just above Luna’s withers. Placing it down, she sighed, “Your Grace, you know better than any pony or halla… The dead can not be brought back to life. And if they could, would you truly be willing to bear that cost?” “I thought I just proved that I would.” Luna snarled, rounding on the High Priestess. “What more can I give than one of my stars?” “You yourself said that the wishes granted by stars are limited, that you do not choose them, but are rather guided to them.” Tempered stood her ground, head held high in the face of Luna’s anger. “I saw you struggling. Did you really believe that—” “I am Luna Invictus! Goddess of the Moon and Stars. Wishgranter. Nightshepherd. Moonguard. The Blade Bathed in Silver!” Luna’s voice grew with each title until it boomed through the cave, making the mountain’s roots ache. “I failed her, Tempered. I knew Sombra was a wicked and vile creature without a shred of good in his soul, and yet I was too consumed with my sister to watch him. Because of me Star Swirl is dead, Clover is blind, and Namyra… Namyra is gone.” Clenching her eyes shut, Luna choked on the final words, grief pressing down upon her with a force greater than the weight of the disc.     “What—” Tempered was silenced by a chittering sound, like the legs of giant centipedes scrambling across stone. Luna whipped around, looking for the source. Something moved within the deep gloom, jumping from spot to spot, peering from behind a stalagmite then a pillar, drawing closer each time. A horrible stench filled Luna’s nostrils, a putrid combination of decay and overripe berries with a sulphurous tint. But, beneath the stench, there was a second smell, one that danced across Luna’s tongue in a familiar pattern, though she couldn’t place the exact components. “Namyra?” Luna took a half-step. Namyra, or what she’d become, mirrored the movement, entering a thin sliver of light. A knotted cloud of pure wintery-blue aether, the creature was not Namyra. At least, not as Luna knew her cousin. It was a shadow, like the shade cast by a tree or drifting cloud, resembling the twisted things that inhabited graveyards and places of terrible sorrow and pain. She hung in the air, shifting slightly from side to side, looking on Luna with hollow eyes. “Luna?” the shade whispered the question, hesitant and confused. “You look… different… Why do you look so different?” The shade drifted to the ground, pooling on the spot where Sombra had stood. She pawed at remnants of the casting circle like a dog looking for a bone, head swinging first left, then right, before focusing again on Luna. “Something is missing… I feel funny, Luna…” Namyra floated closer as her voice, so empty and flat, devoid of any dreams or fears, made Luna’s heart drop. She stopped just before Luna. For a brief instant, Luna dared hope that maybe this was how her wish was being worked, that Namyra would be reconnected with her body and all would be well. Her ghostly hooves shooting out, Namyra grabbed Luna’s head, drawing closer still. Namyra’s demeanor changed at once, her form popping like boiling water, an unearthly howl making Luna cringe. “You’ve taken it! You’ve taken it! Why did you take it? Give it back! It’s mine! Mine!” The shade, no longer Namyra at all, flowed upwards, towering over Luna as she screamed and ranted, only to stop as a lance of ruby magic pierced her. The shade was driven back, a second, then third beam striking her in resounding thwacks. Pulling herself back together, the shade tried to circle back to Luna, howling and screeching, only to be felled by a fourth and final blow, this one of twin beams of ruby and gold. Luna, her mouth hanging open and unable to fully process what had happened turned to behold Iridia and Celestia, each leaning on the other for support, at the cavern entrance. Iridia staggered forward, tears streaming down her face, and collapsed at her daughter’s side. She laid her chin across Namyra’s head, openly weeping, her body wracked by sobs. Outside the first flake of snow fell, twisting and tumbling on the capricious wind. Through the boughs of the trees it spun, narrowly missing leaves and branches to settle at last on a blade of grass.