//------------------------------// // Cerulean Voice / Chapter One: Vial, Arrival, and Revival // Story: Burning Day Reckoning // by Cerulean Voice //------------------------------// Atop the summit of Mt. Canterlot perched a phoenix. She stared hard at the eastern horizon, her golden eyes tracking the gradual appearance of the gentle prismatic light. Every sunrise for over a thousand years, Philomena had witnessed her mistress’ pride and joy from her prime location. The shadow of Mt. Canterlot darkened a vast amount of Equestrian land at any given time. During the glorious morning, it could stretch from the quaint town of Ponyville, over the nearby Everfree, and even reach as far as the Whitetail Woods on the far western side. Come afternoon and evening, the shades would shift and blanket the nearby Foal Mountain Range. Every sunrise, Philomena would think about her life and the many events she had witnessed. Or at least she would try to, only to sigh and think instead about all of her past friends and acquaintances. The ones with whom she made many cherished memories. Memories she would ultimately be forced to leave behind with each rejuvenation. She bowed her head and clasped her right wing to her breast. She fondled a small glass vial draped around her neck. Of all the memories I cherish most... Ho-Oh, Fawkes: we met on this day, one year past. We laughed together—we raged together. We learned of each other’s worlds and what we do to preserve them. I wonder how you are both doing. With the sun now peeking over the crest of the Celestial Sea, Philomena gave a nod to the orb and began her descent from atop the snowy peak. Were she any creature other than one of living fire, she might have shivered as wispy flecks of snow landed upon her down. During her return flight to Canterlot Castle, Philomena thought more about her inter-dimensional brethren. How had Fawkes coped after the funeral of his master? Would he begin to live longer lives, freed of the responsibility of guiding the young pupil he’d spoken of? Or would he continue to watch over the boy? And what of Ho-Oh? What sort of world had he returned to? Perhaps he had resumed his continuous, solitary flight around the world… or had he taken a chance to interact with his fellow Pokémon and actually enjoy himself for the first time in millennia? The vial containing her pinch of Sacred Ash glowed against her breast. Philomena halted in midair, halfway down the mountain summit. She landed upon a small outcrop and took the vial into her wing. Golden eyes examined it closely; it had blinked for but a moment—possibly a trick of the light? No, there was no mistaking the heat it generated, even though the warmth had already faded. She blinked and turned it over a few times. Odd… it definitely burned for a few seconds. She continued to eye the glass container, with its cinders of otherworldly carbon. What does it mean? The vial flared again, emanating enough heat for even Philomena to register the warmth. Phi… na c... … ear me? Her heart missed a beat. Was that…? She leaned down and held the vial closer to her left ear, silent, concentrating. She gave the vial a small shake. It couldn’t be, surely— Philomena, listen to me! Something wicked comes your way. Warn your mistress, for Equestria is in grave danger! It is! Philomena would have loosed a squawk of elation, had she not stopped to process the words. She chirped into her vial. How can I give her your message? I cannot speak in this world. Worry not about communication—the Sacred Ash in your vial will allow my words to reach her. That’s great to know. Leaving her makeshift perch, Philomena resumed her flight to Canterlot. With the city still hundreds of metres below, she clasped her wings to her sides and fell into a graceful dive. The chill winter air rushed past her as she accelerated, almost vertical, toward the Royal Castle’s north tower. Obviously, we need to catch up. For now, elaborate on this “grave danger” you spoke of. Tell me something first: is Fawkes there with you? Philomena frowned. Fawkes? Why would he be here? If you have not seen him, there may still be time. Fly to your mistress and inform me when she is within easy earshot. More than one world is at stake—yours is particularly vulnerable. Ho-Oh… the danger, please. The vial cooled, turning from red to clear once more. The ash inside dulled from a glowing cinder to a clump of black carbon. Ho-Oh! No response. Oh, great. Just perfect. How do I even work this thing? Philomena screeched to Elysium above and opened her beak, firing a streaming jet of flames into the sky. Why did it have to cut out on me now? Phil… ...p me. It’s… I’m… For the second time, Philomena halted her descent, now only seconds from reaching the castle. She felt the telltale glow of her vial once more and held it to her beak. Fawkes? Is that you? Oh, thank the maker! Fawkes’ thoughts came through far louder than Ho-oh’s had. Philomena winced at the unexpected volume and held the glowing vial away from her, before returning it only a short distance further away from her beak. What’s going on? Have you spoken to Ho-Oh at all? He tried to warn me… now it’s too late. Philomena, you must alert your civilisation. This malefic… thing must be stopped at all costs! What thing? Just tell me, Fawkes! I don’t know what it is—all I know is that it’s trying to eat me! Philomena reached the top of the north tower. She soared inside and searched around for Celestia. Not here… that’s strange. She’s always here after sunrise. Something’s amiss… Philomena flew down the tower’s spiraling staircase. As she breezed through the ajar doorway, it struck her how clamorous the castle seemed. The hallways were filled with the sound of hundreds of hooves, clip-clopping across the floor with a frequency that suggested great urgency. After flying down a passageway and up to the great double doors of the throne room, Philomena gaped at the scene before her. Royal guards and servants alike galloped back and forth across the carpets. Unicorn guards and servants were boarding up the chamber’s many stained-glass windows and barking orders. Pegasi were united in removing all valuables and chandeliers from the room. Across the hallway, at the other end of the carpet sat a gilded throne. An empty gilded throne. What in Equestria is going on? Philomena flapped overhead above the preoccupied ponies and approached the throne. As she landed, she pressed herself into the velvet. Neither Celestia’s signature warmth or her scent were present. No creases lined the cushion. The platter on her short table remained untouched; tea still steamed from within the pot, while two Royal Gala apples and a slice of carrot cake bore zero bite marks. Celestia hasn’t even touched her cake… this must be serious. A short squeak piqued her attention. From behind the throne, a furry grey marsupial leaped up onto the cushion and clawed its way up to the top of the royal seat. It squeaked and chattered in a high-pitched language that Philomena could not comprehend. She watched as it waved its arms about and continued to blurt out critter language at a mile a minute. I’ve never seen Tibbles so excited before. He must be worried about Luna. Philomena swept the hyperactive opossum up into her claws, while ensuring she didn’t grip him too hard. He continued to squeak and wave while Philomena vacated the throne room and flew up the passageway in the opposite direction. She beat her wings faster and headed for the south tower. As she did, she wondered about the series of events that had unfolded in the previous five minutes. Her vial had glowed. Ho-Oh had spoken and warned her of grave danger. Fawkes had also found a way to communicate, yet seemed to be in the most dire straits. A little apprehensive about Fawkes’ situation, she’d investigated the castle and found no trace of either resident alicorn. Where is Celestia? The vial warmed and flickered to life again. Philomena reached the south tower’s peak before perching next to Luna’s telescope. She released Tibbles from her grasp, the marsupial bounding over to the balcony edge, where he continued squeaking. Philomena ignored him and strained to hear the words emanating from within the glass. —Tina… it will not be stopped. It has created some kind of wyrmhole, Philomena. It has found the Unbecoming. Have you located your princesses yet? No, Ho-Oh. They are not in the castle. I don’t know where they might be. Philomena glanced up when she heard the thunder. The sky darkened as black tendrils passed across the face of the morning sun. Lines of shadow crept over Canterlot and the surrounding countryside. Actually, hold on. Something’s happening out here… A swirling vortex of blackened clouds formed over the faraway Whitetail Woods. For her position, Philomena observed the swelling cumulus, her eyes wide as she beheld jagged flashes of light all around the mass. She covered her ears against Tibbles’ renewed squealing. There’s some sort of erratic weather pattern happening over Equestria. Then it is already too late. It will arrive shortly. I will do my best to delay it, though it is immensely strong… I fear my efforts will not be enough. Argh! Help me, anyone! Fawkes? Philomena shivered. He sounded frantic— It’s right on my tail! I can’t— A roar sounded through the vial, followed by the abruptly cut-off screech of an unfortunate phoenix. Fawkes? Fawkes! No response greeted Philomena. She fought to control her quivering feathers and took a deep breath. Focus. Think. Then act. She opened her eyes and thrust off from the balcony. She rose up above the tower’s spiral-tipped roof and beat her wings, throwing herself westward. Tibbles’ chirruping faded as Philomena soared toward the anomaly. Even from her distance, she could pick out a herd of Cloudsdale pegasi fighting against the clouds. Yet they seemed to have no effect; lightning periodically shot out from their depths, forcing any nearby pegasi to retreat before trying again. The clouds rumbled and flashed. After releasing five final streaks of lightning, the hurricane spread itself into a wide ring. In the centre of the ring, the very sky seemed torn. Pinks and purples spun in a maelstrom around the rip, which slowly grew and crackled with electricity. A lilac spiral spread out from within, swallowing up the billowing clouds. Two beams of light—one golden, one a clear white—shot at the tear from somewhere below. Philomena set her sight on the beams’ origins, and gasped; Celestia and Luna hovered below the gash, their horns alight. Their magical beams pressed against the spiraling hues, mingling together. The air filled with the sound of further thunderclaps and lightning crashes. The ground far below was bathed in reddish-purple light. Both of the sisters’ beams strained against the torn fabric of space. I am sorry, Philomena. I could not stop it. It will arrive in your world at any moment. What will? Tell me! The lord of my realm’s Reverse World—a ghostly dragon with ultimate power. Its name is Giratina. Giratina? What is it doing here? I’ll explain when I see you soon. Do your best to get close to your mistress in the meantime. Giratina is— Philomena cawed as a bolt of wayward lightning passed by her and shot toward Canterlot. After regaining altitude from her erratic flapping, she turned and witnessed the residual electricity strike one of the castle walls. A small explosion rocked the mountainside citadel for a second as chunks of brick from the south tower showered the lower ramparts. Royal guards covered their heads and galloped back and forth. Unicorns among them activated their magic and began to repair the damage. The pegasi in the air around her all zoomed toward Canterlot to render assistance. She turned back to the crackling maelstrom and felt her heart miss a beat. The beams of energy emanating from the princesses’ horns shrank as a shadow emerged from the rip. It let out a ground-shaking roar and opened its mouth. A single purple sphere swelled, and shot forth from the shadow’s gaping maw. It sailed down toward the princesses, who were forced to break off their attempts at suppression and split apart to avoid the blast. Upon impacting the ground, a cloud of dust rose up into the air; trees were splintered and flattened, replaced by a crater the size of an Ursa Minor. Philomena shot forward as the shadow began to materialise into something more corporeal. She reached Celestia, who was massaging her horn with her eyes screwed up. A good ten metres away, Princess Luna seemed equally distressed, although her blazing white eyes had levelled upon the shadow. “Philomena, what is it?” Celestia looked up to her pet as she came rest upon white shoulders. The vial swung down from her neck. Ho-Oh, speak now! The vial glowed hot and bright again. Philomena squawked and moved her head further down; Celestia stared at the vial, then lowered her horn to it. Princess Celestia of Equestria. I wish the circumstances were not so dire, but I must implore you—do not engage Giratina in battle. It has a great many resistances to the elemental power of your Equestrian magic. It is nigh unstoppable, but there may still be a way to contain the damage it will no doubt cause. I will be there soon to aid you. The vial’s glow and heat both dissipated. Celestia glanced between Philomena and Luna, then directed her gaze to the shadow—rather, what had been shadow a moment earlier. At least ten times Celestia’s size, a gargantuan platinum wyrm shimmered into existence. Six long black tendrils unfurled behind it, spiked red studs at the ends of each. Its wide and lengthy pale body featured red and black stripes along its underbelly and its tail, both of which also had numerous yellow spears protruding outward. At the base of its tendrils—almost like a golden hand grasping around its neck—it sported three more curled spikes. Atop its head and along its cheeks, a final gold frame adorned it. The final detail made Philomena shudder: gleaming, beady scarlet eyes that seemed to stare into her core. She saw no curiosity there, no mercy… only malice. Giratina met her gaze and opened its mouth; another dark ball began to form between its jaws. “Sister, watch out!” Luna dashed through the air toward Celestia and lit her horn. A barrier of midnight blue surrounded the three of them as the dark ball met it with explosive force. Although Luna’s barrier negated most of the attack, the shockwave after its detonation still sent the sisters and Philomena reeling through the air. Giratina began to gather more dark energy, but stopped halfway through, its concentration vanishing as it suddenly hacked and coughed. Thrusting its head down, it belched a wave of pinkish-red flame. Fawkes the phoenix unfurled his wings and spat a jet of fire into the wyrm’s face. He screeched a defiant cry and flew toward Philomena, who noted the absence of his Sacred Ash pendant. He pulled up short of the princesses and hovered in midair before them. Though he could not speak, Philomena inclined her head over her shoulder, drawing Fawkes to fly behind and slightly above her. Giratina’s eyes blazed as it prepared another dark blast— You shall not harm them! A plume of radiant blue fire spiraled around Giratina’s body. As the blazing ring closed upon the wyrm’s scales, angry welts instantly sprung up all over it, eliciting a high hiss and another roar. It turned its tail and sped through the air at blistering speed to the south, though not without a parting shot at its assailant. Its golden spikes flicked back and forth as it beat a hasty retreat. Philomena looked up above, and felt her heart soar into her beak. After diving to the side to avoid the black sphere, which detonated a short way past it, the giant green-and-white phoenix descended upon the shaken smaller birds and ponies. Once level with Celestia, it bowed its head. Greetings, Your Highnesses of Equestria. I pray that you may forgive the circumstances of our meeting in time. I am Ho-Oh, and you are all in danger. Celestia looked at Philomena with narrowed eyes. “You have some explaining to do, Philly.”