//------------------------------// // 14: Inner Light // Story: The Successors // by Portmeirion //------------------------------// Despite their divergent interests, Blue Moon and Summer Sun were alike in more ways than they were different. They were instinctively compassionate, they laughed frequently, and they both loved stories. Consequently, one habit they quickly developed was reading books together. Summer especially loved it when Blue would read to her, and on warm summer days, when sun was shining and the air was just right, she would spent hours in a stretch lying under that beautiful old oak in their backyard while Blue’s familiar voice carried her into other worlds. And Blue, though she liked to think of herself as a grown-up, was still very much a filly. No matter how much she claimed to value hard work and study, at the end of the day she’d rather read adventure novels with her sister than pore over books of geography. Summer had no end of fun teasing her about this. But sometimes Blue would take it upon herself try new things, just because she liked the challenge; this was often how the sisters came to discover new activities that they both enjoyed. But, as Summer eventually noted, it was always Blue who had new ideas, took the first step, and then went back and helped Summer along. For instance, their mother, a proficient gardener, once taught Blue how to plant watermelon seeds, and how to cultivate the growing vines. The next day, on a sweltering afternoon in late May, Blue took Summer out to the garden and walked her through the same steps. “See, you need to plant them under little ‘hills,’ like this,” said Blue, pushing some dirt into a mound over the spot where Summer had just buried a seed. Summer looked on enthusiastically. “Cool! Er… why’s that?” “For drainage, and to absorb more sunlight,” Blue explained, wiping some sweat from her brow with a foreleg. “Mom says we need to space them about two feet apart, so….” “Got it. I’m on it!” Summer moved to scrape another shallow hole in the earth with her hoof, dropping a single large, black seed inside. She covered the hole with dirt again and patted it down, beaming proudly. With Blue’s help, she piled the dirt into a small mound, covering the seed’s resting place. The two of them repeated this process until a total of six seeds had been planted, the makings of a modest watermelon patch. “Sweet!” Summer said as she surveyed her work. She paused to wipe away some sweat from her own forehead. “Do you think we can water them now?” “Um… I don’t think so,” Blue answered. “Mom said these kind of melons get enough water from the rain. They don’t need any extra.” “Oh.” Summer’s face fell in disappointment. It was miserably hot, and she had been looking forward to bringing out the garden hose. “Are you sure we can’t, y’know… help speed things along? Just a little?” “Hmm. I don’t know about that,” Blue said, pausing briefly to think. In the tall grass on the far side of the yard, cicadas chirped away furiously, reacting to the great heat. A thin, wispy cloud passed in front of the sun, providing precious shade for a fleeting moment before passing again. At last Blue sighed. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she said. Then she grinned. “Yeah, let’s do it. Go ahead and get the hose!” “Yes!” Summer cheered, and happily obliged. While Summer ran off to fetch the hose, Blue returned inside for a minute to find something cold to drink. Her father, knowing how hot it was, had graciously set two glasses of lemonade on the kitchen counter. Blue accepted hers gratefully, and went back outside to tell Summer. What she saw when she made it back outside, however, caused her to stop in her tracks. “Summer!” Blue cried, suddenly springing off the back porch and racing towards her sister. “That’s too much water! You’re gonna drown the seeds – ” That was all she managed to get out before her hoof fell into a deep mud puddle that all of the excess hose water was draining into. The splash was huge, spattering muddy water in every direction – including Summer’s. “Heh, hey! Watch it!” The yellow filly laughed, recoiling as mud splashed onto her face. Then she turned on Blue with the hose, grinning like a predator, and hissed at her through gritted teeth. “Okay, Blue. Let’s see how YOU like it!” What followed was five intense minutes of splashing, struggling for control of the hose, icy water flying in all directions, and a great deal of laughter. By the afternoon’s end, not a single watermelon seed remained properly planted, but neither of the two fillies seemed to care very much. The water-battle had proved a better respite from the heat than a simple glass of lemonade could possibly offer. As things began to wind down, Summer laughed delightedly, though her smile began to fade as she looked over the mess they had made. Their attempt at a watermelon patch was now a muddy, swampy jumble of overturned earth. Here and there, large black seeds could be seen floating in the mud puddles, totally dislodged from their places of planting. The weight of what she had done suddenly fell upon her, and she turned to her sister with sad, apologetic eyes. “Oh, gosh, Blue,” said Summer. “I’m... I’m sorry for making such a mess. You were really excited about this, weren’t you? And I messed it all up.” Her head fell in shame. “I mean, I enjoyed planting the seeds and everything, but it was just so hot, and I thought….” “No, really, it’s all right,” Blue assured her. She took a moment to shake the water out of her sopping mane, and then smiled a sincere, thankful smile. “We had a lot of fun. I guess that’s what’s important. We can work on fixing it tomorrow, if you want. I’m just glad you thought of this today.” Summer smiled back, pleased simply to have made her sister happy in spite of her mistakes. “Thanks, Blue.” Blue laughed. “No, Summer. Thank you.” Corona awoke to the sound of singing. Even before she opened her eyes, she recognized the voice, though it clearly didn’t belong to a pony. It sang a sweet, wordless tune, a lilting melody that wrapped itself around her heart like a warm scarf. She knew she had heard it once before – in a dream, perhaps? She just couldn’t remember. In fact, she could barely remember anything at all. Her head ached, and mind was too muddled and hazy to form any clear pictures. She felt the way she often did on mornings when her sleep had been deep and restful, like awakening from a month-long coma, though she couldn’t ignore the gnawing hunger in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open. Everything around her looked dark and out-of-focus. She could tell now that she lay on a cold stone floor in what seemed to be a dank dungeon cell, and her legs ached from the unevenness and hardness of her resting place. Red firelight flickered from some unseen source, and by its warm glow she could make out other figures, small pony-shapes, lying on the floor around her. At the far end of the cell was a tall row of iron bars, and beyond the bars…. She tried to sit up, shaking her head groggily. One of the figures that stood outside of the cell was unfamiliar, to her – a griffon, it looked like, clad in steel armor with a grim, gray helmet covering his head. But perched atop his helmet was another figure, one that Corona was sure she recognized: a golden bird with beady, glowing red eyes. It was singing, guiding Corona out of her slumber with its music. Corona blinked. She knew she had seen that bird recently, but she couldn’t quite place it. Her mind was a blank; she didn’t know where she was, or how she had gotten here. She tried to think back, and found nothing in her memory but a vast blackness. She couldn’t even remember where she had been when she had lost consciousness, or how. A quiet fear began to worm its way into her heart, but she was still too sleep-addled for it to take hold of her. Then her bleary eyes fell upon the griffon’s face. It was impassive, frozen like a statue, and in his eyes a faint red light glowed, the very same color as the bird’s beady eyes. For a moment she stared in curiosity, struck by the image that seemed so familiar. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, everything came back to her at once. Somnambula. Ghost. The missing foals. Ponyville. The Everfree Forest. The storm. The yellow bird. Blue. Blue! Blue… please… help…. The fear in her heart blossomed into terror. Now she remembered. She had been deceived. Then hypnotized. Then kidnapped. All because she thought she could take care of the Ponyville situation by herself. Her chest tightened, her breathing grew quick and shallow. Trembling, she rose to her hooves, wincing and gritting her teeth as pain shot through her sore legs. Her eyes, now wide and panicked, darted rapidly about the room in search of something – she didn’t know what – before settling again on the golden bird and the griffon. They stared back at her, unmoving. “H-hey, w-w-where am I?” she stammered out, not sure which of the two she should address. Her frightened voice sounded very much like a young foal’s. “W-what’s going on? Why are you doing this? What do you want?” The griffon said nothing. The bird, however, began to sing again. But this time the song was different. It was gentle, mournful, bittersweet, and delicately beautiful, with a tune like an old folk melody played on celestial pan-pipes. The crystal-clear voice seemed almost tangible now, reaching out and touching Corona’s mind, slipping past her panicked exterior and resonating somewhere deep within. And it carried images with it, and feelings: unfamiliar scenes, a lifetime of memories, unimaginable grief and indescribable joy breaking over her in alternating waves. Corona winced, fighting reflexively against the new sensations. The song ended abruptly, and the bird drew back, rebuffed by the princess’s resistance. Its red eyes fell to the floor, looking almost apologetic. Corona stared curiously back at the bird. It took her a moment to realize that this was its way of answering her questions, and that her panicked struggle was only blocking its efforts. Breathing heavily, trying her best to stop herself from trembling, she carefully lowered her mental defenses. “O…okay,” she murmured to the bird. “It’s okay. I won’t fight back. Just… just please tell me what’s going on.” The bird hesitated for an instant, and then began its song anew. In moments, Corona’s mind was gently swept away, pulled into a swirling current of memories as the bird’s music played out the whole story. Her name was Kyrie. She was a Hypnobird, one of the last surviving members of her ancient race. She had lived in the wild regions of the Griffon Kingdom for a lifetime, moving from nesting place to nesting place to avoid being found by the ever-growing griffon population. In warm summers she had nested in leafy elms by quiet brooks in deep, secluded vales. In autumn, when the air turned bitingly cold, she fled south and built lonely nests of twigs on high mountain crags by the southern coasts. In harsh northern winters she had found refuge in warm caves, burying herself in thick nests of pine needles and piling up wintergreen berries to sustain her through the season. Sometimes she would sing to herself – a sad, lonely song that no one ever heard. She was always alone. She had found a mate. Meeting him was nothing short of a miracle; for years she had believed she was the last of her kind. She had heard his sweet, hypnotic song echoing through the trees one warm, rose-colored morning in April, when the world was fresh and green and light breezes ruffled her feathers and scattered white cherry blossoms through the air, carrying the sound of his singing across the forest to her ears. She had lifted her own voice, singing her song in return, and guided by the other’s music they had met in a deep glade surrounded by wildflowers. Their individual songs became a duet. By the next spring, they had a nest in a beautiful old oak tree, and three beautiful hatchlings, and their blissful songs filled the forest with unearthly music that stirred the hearts of all living things who heard them to joy, indescribable joy. Her mate had died. Some strange sickness took him in the autumn of that year, dragging him slowly away into a feeble sluggishness. His great wings grew weak, his golden plumage turned dull and ragged, and his songs faltered, his once-soaring voice fading into a rasping whisper that grated agonizingly against Kyrie’s heart. To the very end he struggled to keep up the nest, to find food for his new family and drive away predators with his frail singing, but before the season was out his life had left him. He died one gray morning in September, and the cold winds shook the dry, discolored leaves from the old oak branches and scattered them on the wind. Kyrie’s wailing song of mourning rent the woodlands, and the despairing howls of the forest-dwellers mingled with the frightened, hungry chirping of her chicks. Her chicks had been taken. It had happened only two days after her mate’s death. Though their dwelling place lay deep in the thick, tangled southern forests of the Griffon Kingdom, a pony – Frostbane – had stumbled across them. With Kyrie too worn and heartbroken to properly fight back, the pegasus had stolen her nest right out of her oak tree, and borne it back to Gloomhold with Kyrie and her defenseless young still inside. There the cruel king had imprisoned her children, hidden them away in some secret place that only he knew, and threatened them with death if she failed to serve him. It was a horror and an agony that Kyrie could hardly bear, but she bore it for three years for her hatchlings’ sake. Her song became a weapon and a tool of oppression, and its sweetness rang false and hollow in her own ears. The song ended. Kyrie closed her eyes and lowered her head in silence. The images faded with the music, and Corona’s mind settled gradually back into the present, to her cold cell, to the bird and the griffon in front of her. She hung her head low, feeling tears running down her face, dropping softly onto the stone beneath her hooves. She breathed a slow, shaky breath, and spoke in a quiet, choked voice. “I’m sorry… you poor thing… I’m so sorry….” If she had been able, Corona would have scooped Kyrie up in her hooves and held her close to her heart. “But,” she spoke up again, “but why’d you free me? I mean, I wanna help, if there’s anything I can do, but I dunno how... I don’t even know what’s going on.” Kyrie added a short coda to her song – only a few quiet notes, but the melody was gingerly hopeful and bright, with just a tinge of melancholy and an undertone of trepidation. More scenes and emotions flashed through Corona’s mind. “So the king’s dead… and now nobody knows where your nest is… and there are Equestrian ambassadors coming today? But that probably means – Blue!” Corona’s face lit up. Her sister was coming to save her, she was certain of it! But how would they know where she was being held? How would they expose the griffons as her captors? It’s not like the new queen of Gloomhold would just hand her over. “That’s why you woke me up, isn’t it?” she asked the bird. “So I could help you take down the new queen, and get your children back. Right?” Kyrie made no sound, but inclined her head in a simple nod. Corona smiled, though it was a smile tainted by a certain unease. Kyrie was clearly counting on a princess with great power, one who could overthrow a militant tyrant. She knew she didn’t have that power herself – but maybe Aurora would. Now that she had been set free, all she needed to do was get out of here, find the Equestrians and reveal herself, explain everything to them, and together, she and her sister would fix this. Aurora would take care of everything, like she always did. But now, doubts began to creep into her mind. What if her sister weren’t coming? What if nopony actually knew that she had been captured by the griffons? She’d never achieve anything on her own, surely. Her magic was still at a nascent stage, and she could hardly do more than open curtains or lift little changelings around. She certainly couldn’t fight anyone. That had been Aurora’s job, really; she had fought the “ghost,” she had fought Somnambula. All Corona had done was run off by herself, getting lost, getting captured. She sighed sadly, biting her lip. She really couldn’t do anything right without her sister. But when she looked at Kyrie again – at the simple expression that seemed to bear so much sadness, and those red eyes that looked back at her with so much hope – she couldn’t refuse. “I… I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” she said at last, “but I can try my best. Okay?” Kyrie leapt into the air, hovering at about eye-level with the princess, and sang a few notes. They meant nothing to Corona, but the griffon seemed to understand them just fine. He reached for the keys that hung on a hook by the cell door on and, with a clanking, rattling sound, unlocked the cell and slid back the iron-barred door. He nodded respectfully to the princess, then turned, striding away down the hall. Cautiously, Corona poked her head out the door and watched as the guard disappeared into the distant shadows, and the click of his talons on the stone floor faded into silence. Corona carefully set one hoof outside of the cell, then another. Kyrie landed atop her back and rested her wings. “Wait,” said Corona, stopping short a little awkwardly. “If you’re gonna let me go, then… can you wake up these little guys, too?” She turned back, indicating the three captured foals that lay unconscious on the floor of the cell. Even in their sleep, they looked sad and helpless. “It just doesn’t feel right to leave them here alone. And they’re probably really hungry, too, if they’ve been out for a long time. Please?” For a brief moment, Kyrie seemed to hesitate. Then she sang three clear notes: a simple, rising tri-tone. Corona looked back at the foals as they began to stir awake, shifting and murmuring as the Hypnobird’s song worked its subtle magic on their sleepy minds. “Whoa,” one of them yawned. He was a brown-coated unicorn colt with a red flannel bandana tied neatly around his neck. He opened his eyes, shaking his head to toss his light gray mane out of his face. He was facing the wall, and saw neither Corona nor Kyrie. “W…what happened?” he murmured. A second one yawned. She was a sky-blue pegasus, with a darker blue mane with two bouncy tube-curls falling behind her ears. She tried to stand, stretching her back and fluttering her wings, her tired eyes still half-closed. “I’ll…I’ll tell you what happened, Timberjack,” she said groggily, in a noticeable Trottingham accent. “You got us lost, that’s what happened. And… and then we fell into a ditch, or something horrid like that. There’s probably dirt in my mane!” The third foal, a beige-coated earthy pony colt with a shaggy teal mane, was finally starting to wake up as well. He yawned like the others, rubbed his eyes with his hooves, and looked up – right into Corona’s eyes. He gasped. “H-h-hey, you’re the Princess!” “Hmm?” said the other two, turning to look at their friend. Then their gazes rose to meet Corona’s friendly smile, and they froze, staring wide-eyed. The filly’s jaw dropped. “P-Princess Corona?” she stuttered. “See, Crackers? I told you that the princesses were doing something out here,” Timberjack interjected before Corona could get a word in. “Now what do you have to say?” “Well, I might have believed you,” snapped the filly, “if you hadn’t been such a little twit about it. Now, shush! This is the Princess! You’re supposed to be polite!” Turning snootily away from Timberjack, she offered Corona a courteous bow. “Pleased to meet you, your highness. My name is Crackers K. Curlicue of Trottingham.” “But you’re from Ponyville!” said the earth pony colt. “Salt Taffy!” Crackers scolded, shooting a glare in his direction. The colt drew back and grinned a big, sheepish, apologetic grin. “Well, it’s true….” “Well, I do live in Ponyville,” Crackers continued, turning back to the princess, “but we Curlicues trace our family line back to the Rarities of Trottingham, who – ” She stopped, cut short by a growl from her stomach, and her face flushed with embarrassment. “P-pardon me, your highness,” she said. “I suppose I simply – I’m a little hungry, that’s all.” “Me, too,” said Timberjack, sitting down and placing a hoof on his empty stomach. “Me three!” Salt Taffy added enthusiastically. “And four, and five, and six….” “Wait – what were you guys doing in the forest that night?” Corona asked, interrupting. “Didn’t you hear about all the foalnappings?” “Crackers said she wanted to see the ghost!” said Salt Taffy. “I did not!” the filly protested, sticking her nose in the air. “Posh ponies don’t just go gallivanting off into forests looking for imaginary monsters. It was all Timberjack’s idea!” “Me?!” The unicorn puffed out his chest indignantly. “You’re the one who brought the whole ‘ghost’ thing up in the first place! All I said was that if the Princesses banish it or something, we won’t get another chance to see it!” “Yeah! And that was when Timberjack asked her if she was just a scaredy-pony, and she said – ” “I didn’t say it like that! I just – ” “Now, look here, you two – ” As the foals broke out into childish argument, Kyrie and Corona shared a glance. The latter nodded, and Kyrie began to sing again: a short, breezy tune with a melody similar to her previous song, albeit considerably simpler and less melancholy. The foals’ bickering ceased abruptly as the music caught their ears, and together they fell into a listless silence as their eyes glazed over, focusing on the unfamiliar images that now swam before them. An understanding of their situation began settling into their minds. Timberjack’s face fell into a timid, worried grimace. Crackers began to tremble. Salt Taffy, for his part, simply swayed back and forth while his eyes spun in nauseous circles. Soon the song was over, and the foals shook themselves and came back to reality. Crackers was the first to speak up, and her voice was shaky and timid. “You mean,” she half-whispered, “You mean we’ve been foalnapped?” Timberjack grimaced. “I shoulda known….” he muttered, stamping a hoof in frustrated defeat. Salt Taffy wobbled on his unsteady hooves, still reeling from the spell. “Feelin’ kinda woozy…” he murmured. He lost his balance and stumbled into Timberjack, who graciously propped him back up, offering him a friendly smile. Crackers stepped up beside them, also smiling, but their faces quickly turned fearful and shy as they turned back to the princess. “You… you can get us out of this, right, your highness?” asked Timberjack, gazing pleadingly up at Corona. The other two looked up to her as well, their eyes brimming with fear, their faces all asking the same question. They were just foals, Corona reminded herself; they were lost and alone, and the only pony around to take care of them, the only one they could rely on, was her. No Aurora, no Glass Eye. Just her. The weight of her responsibility fell suddenly upon her, and a cold dread wrapped its talons around her heart. She took in a long, slow breath and tried to hide her own fear as she stared back into their eyes. Surely she couldn’t protect them by herself, could she? The last time she had tried to do something by herself, without her sister’s help, she had ended up helpless and hypnotized along with them. And yet, strangely, the longer she looked at their frightened faces, the more her fear seemed to diminish. The responsibility that weighed on her was crushingly heavy, but at least her job was incontrovertibly clear. She knew what needed to be done, and this knowledge gave Corona an odd sort of confidence, an uplifting sense of purpose. These foals needed somepony to make them feel better, and if Corona was the only one who could do it, then so be it – she’d try her best. “Yup!” she said at length. “Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine. My sister’s coming to save us! And – and even if she doesn’t show up – well, we’ve got a Hypnobird, haven’t we?” She looked at Kyrie, and the bird squawked in assent. “See? That’s gotta count for something, right?” Corona continued, laughing. “Yeah, being able to mind-control any unfriendly griffons we bump into – it’s not like that power could possibly come in handy or anything, huh?” The foals laughed with her – quietly at first, and a bit nervously, but they burst out into riotous mirth when Corona struck a dramatic pose, wings extended, with Kyrie perched on her back in a dignified posture, and turned to march down the hall with her chin held high. “Hey, what’re you slowpokes waiting for?” she called out to them. “Let’s get out of this place! You’re not saying you like it in there, are you? C’mon, I’m sure we can find you something to eat around here somewhere….” Grinning warmly, the foals stepped out of the cell and followed the princess. The main hallway of the Underhold was long and very dark, illuminated only partially by the red glow of torches that hung on the walls at evenly-spaced intervals. Corona and the foals stared into other cells as they passed them, but they all stood empty, their occupants having long since been sent to work in the diamond mines. The silence was heavy and unnerving, and the foals cringed timidly at the deep shadows, fearing that something might be lurking out of their line of sight. With a little effort, Corona conjured up some magic and made her horn glow like a golden lamp, shedding a tad more light on their surroundings and making the foals feel much more at ease. After a few minutes’ walk, Corona came to a stop in front of an unusually large cell on her left, just across from a staircase that led upwards on their right. The three foals, who were following her in single file, all bumped into one another as their little train ground to a halt. “Your highness?” said Crackers. “Is something the matter?” The princess said nothing, and simply stared into the dark chamber. It was the first occupied cell they had encountered so far, and to Corona’s great surprise, it contained a pony, resting on the floor right next to the bars. She was a tall, white unicorn with a tattered green scarf around her neck and a cracked pair of glasses perched on her snout in a lopsided fashion. Her dark, disheveled mane hung obscuringly over her face, but it looked as if her dead, sullen eyes were fixed on the stone floor. It only took Corona a moment to recognize her, for the memory to rise to the surface of her still-slightly-muddled mind. “Professor Somnambula?” she whispered. The unicorn raised her head, startled by the sound. Her pale pink eyes gazed at the princess through her broken spectacles, and then quickly darted away in fear and shame, accompanied by a short gasp. When she finally looked up again and spoke, her voice retained a bit of its natural cheerfulness, but it was ragged, apprehensive, and burdened by some great emotional weight. “Your highness,” she said, inclining her head in a slight bow. “I certainly wish I could say that it’s nice to see you, but….” Her gaze fell to the floor. “If you’re making your escape now, please, please don’t bother with me. I don’t deserve it, considering….” “Hey, I remember you!” said Timberjack. “You were in the Everfree Forest!” “I remember her, too,” added Crackers. “Yes, I remember now – the three of us were hiding in some tumbledown brick house in the middle of the woods to get out of that dreadful weather….” “…and then we heard that music!” Salt Taffy concluded for her. “And then we saw you! Except you weren’t all beat-up like you are now, and your scarf was in better shape, and your eyes were a different color, and I think maybe you were taller, or maybe that’s just me….” “But you never meant any of that, did you?” asked Corona. She cast an inquisitive eye on Kyrie as she spoke, and the bird nodded ashamedly. “That whole time, the griffon king was making you do things you didn’t really want to do. Even when you were back in Canterlot… right?” There was a pause. Slowly, reluctantly, Somnambula nodded. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “But – no. Oh, I don’t know what to think. I remember everything, every moment – meeting you in the Canterlot Gardens, lying to you, fighting your sister – and – and I remember wanting to do it. Now I’m just... oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Her face darkened, and she shook her head. “You were right not to trust me, your highness. I should’ve resisted harder, I should’ve – I wish I had – I just – oh dear, oh dear, oh dear….” She trailed off, her voice faltering into near-silence. “No, no, it’s okay,” Corona insisted. “I understand. You weren’t yourself, y’know? It wasn’t really you.” “I know, I know,” Somnambula admitted, nodding. “Kyrie’s spell does seem to have a rather profound effect on one’s personality. But, oh dear, it all felt so terribly lucid – even in those awful moments, I felt so much like myself – oh, dear….” Timberjack looked her over. “So… you were the ghost?” “That’s weeeiiiird!” said Salt Taffy. “She doesn’t look like a ghost.” Somnambula’s smiled – a sad smile of mild amusement. “No, I’m not,” she said, addressing Corona. “That poor little changeling was the ‘ghost.’ I found her two years ago, not long after I had – well, you know – and I thought I could use her as a cover, so that ponies would be less suspicious, and – oh, goodness, I was such a horrible pony….” “Hey, c’mon,” Corona prodded her gently. “It’s okay now, we understand. That’s not who you really are. I mean, Glass Eye said he totally trusted you – the real you, I mean – and who’d know you better than him? I say that’s good enough for me.” Somnambula raised her eyes, peeking through her messy mane at the princess. “You – you mean that, your highness?” “Mm-hmm,” Corona answered, nodding. “The way I see it, that foalnapping stuff was never really your doing. It was all that Blacktalon guy’s fault. And now he’s dead, so nopony’s to blame. Okay?” “Well, if you say so, your highness,” Somnambula conceded at last. Her sad smile turned warm and genuine. “But, please understand, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you – ” “Nah, forget about it,” said Corona. “We’re escaping, and we’re definitely taking you with us.” She eyed the bars of the cell, noticing that they were thicker and newer-looking than any of the others they had passed. “Why’d they lock you up, anyway?” “It was Frostbane’s doing,” she explained. “She believed I was an ‘unstable element’ in her formula, or something to that effect, that I might cause problems when the Equestrian ambassadors arrived. You see, Kyrie’s spell may be overridden by a sudden surge in certain types of neurotransmitters, which disrupt the guiding harmonic patterns of – ” “Huh?” Corona raised an eyebrow. “Oh! Pardon me, your highness,” Somnambula said with a sheepish grin. “Rambling, as usual. I suppose I am back to being myself again. What I mean is that her spell can be blocked out by powerful emotional responses, like love or hate, or… or guilt. Oh, it won’t do any good looking for keys, I’m afraid,” she added, as Corona had begun searching the wall for a hanging key-ring like the one outside her own cell. “This cell is enchanted, locked by magic. Blacktalon had me design and build it myself, just in case it ever became necessary to keep unicorns detained. Only another magic-user can open it, and only from outside the cell.” It was true. When Corona looked more closely, she could see a faint purplish glow around the shiny steel bars. There was a large, heavy lock on the sliding door, but the keyhole was simply a star-shaped impression in the metal that resembled Somnambula’s Cutie Mark. She gave the professor a quizzical look. “Then… how do I get you out?” “It’s a fairly simple mechanism, actually,” Somnambula explained. “You just have to reach out telekinetically and turn the ‘tumbler’ – there isn’t a physical one, of course, it’s all embedded in the metal by the enchantment – but it should feel like turning a regular key in a lock. Go on, give it a try!” “Well,” said Corona, issuing a nervous sigh and trying to hide her lack of confidence. “Okay. Just hang on a sec….” The princess closed her eyes, gathering her willpower and summoning up all the magic she could muster. She could sense the cell in front of her, and perceive the luminescent streams of magical energy that coursed through the metal, all clustering together around the lock. She reached out with her mind, just as she would with a simpler task, and felt for the lock mechanism. There, she had it – now, if she could only apply enough pressure, turn the “key,” maybe, just maybe it would open right up…. But it didn’t. Though she struggled with all her might, the lock wouldn’t budge, not even an inch. She gritted her teeth and tried again. Still nothing. A third, dizzyingly tense attempt still brought no results. She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow, and her heart was pounding from the strain – and from the fear. Kyrie, disturbed by her trembling, fluttered noisily off of her back and landed on the floor a short distance away, staring at the princess with obvious concern. At last she gave up, collapsing to floor in frustrated defeat. It was impossible. The principle of the mechanism she could understand, but she felt as though she simply lacked the strength. It was like raising the sun or the moon: for those tasks, she had always had her sister at her side, guiding her, sharing the burden, giving her power. Without her, she was useless. Without Aurora, she was only half a princess. “It’s no good,” she said. “I can’t do it. My magic’s just not strong enough.” “Yes, you can, your highness.” “No, I can’t!” She hung her head, letting her mane fall in front of her face to hide the tears that gathered in her eyes. “I can’t do anything right. Not by myself… not without Blue. She’s the one who always takes care of everything. I just make messes for her to clean up. I’m just… I’m just a useless lump. I can’t save anypony.” “Who’s Blue?” Timberjack whispered, nudging Crackers with an elbow. “You simpleton!” she hissed back quietly. “That’s Princess Aurora’s name. She misses her sister!” “Oooooh,” said Salt Taffy, as he nodded along in understanding. There was a lengthy silence as Corona continued to stare at the floor, ignoring the foals. The fear that had threatened her heart earlier now had complete control. She shut her eyes, blocking out the dim light of the dungeon hall, trapping herself in pitch black, alone with her despairing thoughts. It was Somnambula who finally broke the silence. “Well, your highness,” she said, with just a flicker of warmth in her voice, “I don’t know how much it would help, but I could tell you what I think my grandfather would say to you now.” “Glass Eye?” Corona looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting the unicorn’s bright violet ones. “Why? What would he say?” “Well, first of all,” she began, “he’d tell that you most certainly aren’t useless. I mean, goodness, look at everything you’ve accomplished so far!” “What do you mean?” Now the princess was curious. “What have I accomplished?” To Corona’s great surprise, Timberjack suddenly spoke up. “Well… you made us feel a lot better, for one thing.” “Better, and safer,” said Crackers, nodding in agreement. “And you made us laugh, too!” Salt Taffy added enthusiastically. “That’s gotta count for something, right? Right?” “You’re a pony with limitless compassion,” Somnambula concluded, “and you never let your fear prevent you from doing what’s right. Even when we were in Canterlot, and you explained how you rescued that poor little changeling from starving to death in the swamp… Well, if I hadn’t been under the influence of mind-control, I might’ve deduced right there and then why the Elements of Harmony chose you to be a princess. You simply spread joy and laughter and love wherever you go. Why, even just now, talking with you has done a great deal to ease my mind. Goodness knows how much I needed it….” “But – but that’s not the same!” Corona protested. “I mean, I guess it’s all true, that I’m good at being friendly, but – but what does that have to do with my magic?” “Oh, your highness,” Somnambula chuckled, smiling and shaking her head. “Hasn’t anypony ever told you that friendship is magic?” “Huh? What does that mean?” “Don’t you see, your highness? Laughter, kindness, magic itself… they all come from the same source, from the Elements of Harmony. They gave you your power to begin with, as they gave us all the wonderful gifts we possess.” She placed a hoof against her heart, and her meditative gaze seemed to stare into the distance. “It’s not our own power, not really, but we all carry it within ourselves, and it gives us everything we need – to be compassionate and generous, to live in harmony, to love each other. And for some of us, when necessary… it gives us the power to work wonders.” Corona frowned. “I don’t really feel like I can work wonders. Not by myself.” “Then don’t think about yourself. Focus on the Elements. You’re an Equestrian princess, and your magic is their gift to you. They’ve already given you kindness and laughter in great quantities, and they’re still with you now, alive in your heart just as much as they are in those jewels locked away in that safe in Canterlot. Just let them complete their gift.” At that point, Somnambula stood up in her cell, bringing herself to eye level with the princess, meeting her gaze through the enchanted bars. “You can do this by yourself,” she said, gently and tenderly, “because you’re never really by yourself.” The princess looked around herself – at the professor’s encouraging smile, at the foals’ excited stares, at Kyrie’s simple look of curiosity – and she sighed. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll give it a try.” Once again, the princess rose to her hooves and bowed her head. “Right,” she murmured to herself in a low voice. “Right. Now, think. Elements, Elements, Elements. Loyalty, Generosity, Honesty… Laughter… Kindness… Magic….” Again, she closed her eyes, and again, she reached out for the lock with her mind. But this time, she didn’t struggle or strain or grit her teeth. She simply thought back. She thought of that awful joke she had tried to crack the first time she and Aurora explored the Everfree, and how her sister had struggled not to laugh. She thought of Ghost, and that warm, bubbly feeling she had gotten when she had given up some of her love to feed the poor, starving thing. She thought of that bright, sincere, honest smile on her sister’s face all those years ago, when she had ruined their attempt at planting watermelons, and how much laughter they had shared over the whole business. And as Corona thought back, a strange, glowing warmth seemed to flow into her from some unperceived source. She noticed at once it was a familiar feeling, similar to drawing energy from her sister when they would raise the sun or the moon, but this new sensation was far more powerful. She thought of her ascension to princesshood three months ago. She thought of the blinding white light, cacophonous roar of swirling magic, the overwhelming, electrifying power surging through her veins. She thought of the sudden claws of terror that had seized her heart, only to release its grip an instant later when a new feeling, an overpowering sense of peace and purpose, of wholeness, of fulfillment, of being who she was meant to be, of knowing, somehow, that everything would be all right, swept over her and filled her heart nearly to overflowing…. There was a click and a rattle, followed by a low, magical-sounding hum. Corona opened her eyes and looked up. The lock had fallen away. The cell door slid open. The foals cheered. Kyrie tweeted triumphantly. Somnambula simply smiled, stepping out of the cell and resting a congratulatory hoof on Corona’s shoulder. “Thanks, Professor,” Corona said, looking down sheepishly. “I guess I really needed to hear that.” “Oh, don’t thank me, your highness,” Somnambula insisted. Then she stepped away from the princess, turning to fix Kyrie with a benevolent gaze. “And there needn’t be any hard feelings between us, I assure you.” Kyrie tweeted happily, flapping her wings and settling again atop Corona’s back. The princess greeted her with a smile, but whatever she was about to say was cut short by a trio of hungry, growling stomachs. The foals still hadn’t had anything to eat, and they looked up at the older ponies with pleading, apologetic faces. “Hey, Professor,” said Corona, “Would you mind taking care of these guys? They’re really hungry, and you know this place better than I do. I, uh – I kinda get lost easily, especially in big fancy castles. Could you find ‘em something to eat?” “Absolutely! There’s a store of provisions at the end of this hall, I believe. And don’t worry, your highness,” she said, conjuring up an intimidating swirl of purplish energy around her horn as she spoke, “I’ll be able to deal with any resistance we might meet along the way.” “Are you sure?” “Positive! There are so few prisoners these days, they keep a very limited staff in the Underhold. We’ll be quite safe down here, while you go out and wait for the ambassadors. Now, come along, kids! They grow the most interesting and nutritious mushrooms down here beneath Gloomhold. You see, they were cultivated to make up for the diminished agricultural output due to the permanent winter conditions....” Somnambula’s voice trailed off as she led the foals in single file down the long, darkening hallway. Salt Taffy paused for half a moment to wave goodbye to princess before turning back around to follow his friends. Corona smiled after them, waving back, then turned towards the staircase on her right. Kyrie stood at attention on her back, readying herself to sing their way out of trouble if any griffons tried to recapture them or bar their path. As she ascended the steps, her hoofsteps echoing loudly, she felt for the first time a new type of confidence – not the impulsive self-assurance that had gotten her in trouble so many times before, or even the simple grim acceptance of her responsibilities that had served her recently, but a different feeling entirely – a kind of faith, perhaps, and hope. The warm, glowing sensation of the Elements’ gift hadn’t yet left her heart, and despite the seriousness of her situation, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little. Maybe she really could do this by herself.