//------------------------------// // In which the stones speak // Story: Fine Steps // by TwilightSnarkle //------------------------------// Three ponies crested the ridge. In single file, they descended into the valley. As they journeyed, they could see other ponies ahead, scattered in small groups around similarly scattered tents. Each group stopped to watch the adventurers draw nearer. Despite the onset of winter, the valley was lush and green. Steep, rocky walls sheltered it on all sides, and meandering streams lazily paced out a web towards the valley’s floor. But they never reached it. In the center of the valley, beyond the scattered tents and trickling waters, a great emptiness loomed. An enormous sphere of nothing, in razor-sharp relief against the blue sky and green grasses, swallowed up the streams, sky, and vegetation as they crossed its horizon. Within its depths, lightning crackled and stars spiraled. From that great void issued a muted wail that filled the valley, fading in and out on the edge of hearing. It was a keening cry—the sound of wind in the high crags, or the voice of a lost child wandering in search of its mother. The three ponies approached. The closer they drew, the larger the void loomed: a menacing presence that made it difficult to lift their hooves. Soon, the three found themselves unable to venture any nearer. A moment passed. Then two. After ten minutes, the ponies gathered at the camps sent out an envoy of five to meet and gather up the new arrivals. “Ho, there!” shouted a voice. “Travelers! Are you the Selected?” With considerable effort, Inky pulled her eyes away from the enormous sphere and noted a small band of ponies drawing close. They were all unicorns, in a variety of shades, and each wore the white high-collared cloak of the Council. Their leader was a moss-grey stallion with a deep bronze mane. “Hello,” Inky called in return. “Yes, we are. But I fear we did not know this was the reason for our Selection.” She gestured over approaching ponies’ shoulders with her muzzle, taking care not to let her gaze cross the void again. “I am In… Selene,” Inky added, before she nudged Elly. “This is Helia, and this is Aurum. Why have we been called?” At the sounds of their names, each of her companions shivered awake, then nodded to the Council. The lead pony nodded in return. “I am Palantir. With me are Littlelife, Cooper...” He tilted his head over his right shoulder at two ponies, a petite purple mare and stocky green stallion, who nodded as their names were called. “...Iris and Thistledown.” These two were over his left shoulder, both blue. The taller of the two smiled, while the second seemed to be distracted by a passing cloud. “We are of the Council.” “Thistledown?” Inky blinked in surprise. “I didn’t recognize you. You look different, but I can’t put my hoof on it.” The taller blue mare stepped forward with a smile. “Hi, Selene. It’s likely the mane. My usual braids were too much of a hassle out here, and eventually I just cut it short.” She tossed her silver-grey mane about and grinned. “I’m filling in for Starswirl. He’s on a mission elsewhere, and asked me to take his place at Council.” “I see,” Inky replied, finding the smile infectious. “That’s great for you. Lots of opportunity.” Elly cleared her throat. Inky’s ears flattened, and she glanced at the ground, a blush rising in her cheeks. “Of course. Yes. Palantir, was it?” The moss-grey stallion nodded once more. “Palantir, why have we been called? What is happening here?” “That’s just it. We don’t know, exactly.” Elly’s eyes narrowed. “Did I hear that right?  You had us wander the width of this land because you don’t know what something is?” Aurum snorted in what Inky hoped was amusement. Palantir rubbed at his right temple with a hoof. The green stallion murmured something about pegasi before his purple companion shouldered him in the ribs with a glare. Elly’s wings flared, and her eyes narrowed. She took half a pace towards the unicorn when Palantir raised a hoof to forestall her. “No, Helia.” Whether he meant that as a command, or an answer, Elly paused to listen. “We know your presence is necessary, and we know a few things about the situation we find ourselves in, but the details have been kept from us. They’re waiting to speak with the Selected.” Inky tilted her head. “They?” she asked. “They who?” He regarded Inky once more. “We’ve no good name for them yet. They refer to themselves in various ways. But we may be getting ahead of ourselves.” He stepped to the side, and turned slightly back the way he came. “Let’s get to camp and we’ll explain on the way. Any questions we can’t answer will be addressed by the rest of the Council, if an answer is to be had.” “That sounds fine to me.” She looked glanced to each of her companions. “Aurum? Helia? Shall we?” Aurum grinned and stepped forward, but found his path blocked as Elly drew close to her companions. Elly’s eyes never left the green stallion. “So, these Council members...” she asked in an exaggerated murmur, “...are they easily replaced if broken?” Aurum chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Elly stepped a pace away, and he moved on past to join the Council. Inky shook her head and murmured in reply. “Not now, El. I’m sure he’ll get a proper dressing-down once we’re back at camp.” Elly grumbled vaguely and launched herself into the sky, and with a few lazy beats of her wings took up a slow patrol. Palantir waited ahead. Inky walked to his side, and the pair descended towards the campsite. “I’m sorry for Cooper’s comments,” he said. “Don’t be. Old rivalries and opinions die hard. Still, until there’s been some proof of chastisement, you may not want to let El—Helia get near him alone.” “He’ll likely lose his Council cloak when we return. The Council is of all tribes, and while unicorns make up the majority, our work would be impossible without the abilities and contributions of pegasus and earth pony.” Inky sighed, then changed the subject. “So, let’s start from the beginning. Aurum’s just ahead. Let’s catch up with him, and Helia will grill me for details when we get to camp.” “Fair enough,” Palantir replied. He quickened his pace, and soon the pair were with the party proper. He told his tale anew. “The beginning? Well, a few months ago, our ley researchers noticed some… oddities… with the feed lines. As you know, minor changes are not unusual. These were the usual surges in potential, like when a spell draws too much power or there’s a miscalculation in a result. They were simply more frequent and often occurring where no unicorns were known to live.” Inky nodded, stepping over a muddy rivulet. “So what was so different this time?” Palantir stepped over the same feature and replied, “The lines started moving.” Inky stopped in mid stride. “That shouldn’t be possible.” The other unicorn shrugged. “Nevertheless… Eventually, the researchers noticed a pattern to the moving webs and calculated a disturbance here, in this valley. We sent our scouts ahead and, well, we found this.” He gestured ahead with a hoof. Inky did not look forward. “Thistledown, Iris, and I were first to arrive. It was Iris’ team that calculated the position, and Thistledown appeared in place of Starswirl, who as we mentioned before is otherwise occupied. It was her idea to enter the sphere, and when we did, we learned a lot more.” Aurum spoke up from his other side. “There’s something inside?” Palantir turned to address him. “There’s a great deal inside. And a great deal missing. It’s difficult to explain. I wouldn’t know where to begin, except…” He turned to Inky. “You’ve studied astral projection, haven’t you?” Inky spared Aurum a half-smile, then answered, “Only as a curiosity. Part of my Selection took place in a pocket projection, but my focuses were Astronomy and Fateweaving, not Realms.” “Ah. Well…” Palantir paused. He pursed his lips and seemed to search his memory. Inky and Aurum waited quietly, exchanging glances. After a few moments, he brightened. “Ah!” he said, continuing his journey and his explanation. “Yes. So, anything that enters the sphere from outside becomes… disembodied. No harm befalls a living creature, or things in direct contact with one, but items without motive force are permanently disincorporated.” He smiled broadly, as if the rest was obvious. Aurum snorted. “So, ‘they’...” he prompted. Inky answered first. “‘They’ exist in another frame of reference. The pocket projection I tested in would have had some similarities, but only in that aspect.” “What is it ‘they’ want?” Aurum asked, stepping closer. “Three, we were told. ‘Send for three, one from each tribe, to speak for each tribe. One that represents each tribe, in every sense.’ They have otherwise kept their intentions close, but I do not believe the entities are malevolent.” The tents drew nearer. From this distance, they could hear the canvas sides and linen banners flap in the breeze. Aurum and Inky both slowed their pace, and continued grilling Palantir. “How many entities are there?” Aurum asked, ducking under a branch.. “Two entities speak within the void,” he answered, “and the two refer to a third which they say is a danger to us all.” Inky frowned. “Danger? What sort of danger?” Palantir grimaced. “I asked that same question. They showed me images. They were… cataclysmic, on a scale I can scarcely comprehend. Imagine an earthquake that does not end. Or a storm that rains fire, across the whole of the land. Or—” Aurum blanched. His jaw worked silently as his eyes widened. Inky quickly raised a hoof. “We get it. Please, that’s enough.” With a shudder, she turned and trudged towards the tents. Palantir and Aurum followed behind, silent for the rest of the journey. Inky woke from a light doze, disturbed by a commotion outside her tent. Voices sounded beyond the oiled canvas, and in its dim environs the shadows from outside were razor sharp. “You’re absolutely certain?” asked a familiar voice. Ah, yes, Palantir. “Yes, sir,” a smaller shadow replied. Her voice was low, and soft, with a lilt after each word. “Neither can be found.” “Curse it all, Littlelife. He said he was going to apologize!” “He left to do just that, but you know Cooper. Perhaps there was an argument?” “I’ll let Selene know. Wake Aurum and then put together an escort.” “Yes, sir.” The smaller shadow spun about and moved from the tent’s side. The larger paused outside the flaps. Inky took the opportunity to rise from her bedroll and, by the light of her horn, rummaged for a set of saddlebags. The tent flap opened soon after. Palantir stepped into the tent, then sighed. “I take it you heard our discussion.” Inky nodded, coiling up a length of thin rope and stuffing it into a pocket. Palantir rubbed the back of his head with a hoof. “So, it seems Cooper went to apologize to Helia, alone, after we told him to stay away.” A lantern, a sack of granola, and a swath of bandages filled the other pocket. “And now you can’t find either of them.” He let his hoof fall to the ground. “No,” he replied with a grimace. Inky frowned, then faced the stallion. A moment’s focus opened the tent flap behind him onto the late evening. “One of them has done something rash. The other is paying for that decision. Let’s hope we get to both of them in time.” With that, she stepped outside. Palantir followed. A few paces away, Aurum appeared from another tent. He shook out his mane as he found his way towards Inky. “You’ve heard,” he said in greeting. He stretched his neck and drummed his hooves against the earth, waking the rest of the way up. Inky nodded, closing the tentflap behind her. She levitated the bags over her back, securing them tightly. As she buckled the last strap, she moved to the earth pony’s side. “Aurum?” Any question she might have asked was interrupted by a ruckus. Scattered shouts sounded from the southern edge of camp, nearest the curious sphere. The shouts drew nearer, and as they did, two pegasi could be seen on the wing, a pony on a sling stretched between them. Inky peered at the shape. “That’s too dark for Elly.” Palantir stepped up beside her, squinting in turn. “That’s Cooper. They seem to be bringing him here.” In moments, the litter descended. The pegasi—a green mare and a yellow stallion—each gave Palantir a nod before unhooking themselves. The yellow pegasus flew off without a word. The green one reported in. “We found him at the bottom of the bank near the southern fork. Looks like he slid all the way down. There’s nothing obvious wrong, but I’m sure the healers will know for sure. As for Helia, there was no sign.” Cooper—still wearing his white cloak, now muddied and torn—groaned softly beside her. “Thank you,” replied Palantir. “Please keep the patrol up.” “Aye, sir,” she said. A brief salute and a beat of her wings later, she was gone. Palantir frowned at the unicorn for a moment, then shouted, “Littlelife!” “Right behind you, sir,” replied a voice from the north. The purple unicorn from the earlier envoy trotted up and frowned at the pony on the ground. She knelt over him, her horn flaring. “Tsk. Well, there’s no obvious wounds or swelling…” She murmured to herself as the glow enveloped the stallion. “Bruising, scuffs, possible pulled muscle… oh, and that’ll be a nasty headache.” “What happened?” asked Inky. The glow faded and Littlelife stood upright. “He’ll have to give the details, but based on the injuries, he took a solid hit to the head and a tumble down some rocky terrain. No fractures, but he’s gonna be feeling that for a day or two, and may have loosened a tooth. “The pegasus who brought him said he was found at the southern fork,” stated Aurum. “The southern fork?” Littlelife spared a glance for Palantir. “That’s mere minutes from the sphere.” “Yes,” Palantir replied. “I suppose we know where Helia must have gone.” He turned and reopened the tent flap. “I’ll get the medical supplies.” Littlelife turned about as well. “I’ll help.” Inky and Aurum were left out-of-doors, standing watch over Cooper. “She wouldn’t have gone in alone,” breathed Aurum, his voice rising into a query. “She would,” said Inky. “Especially to prove a point.” The clatter of belts and buckles sounded from within the tent. “I hoped to take this trip in the morning,” called Palantir, his voice muffled by something. A moment later he stepped from the tent’s confines, a knapsack in his teeth. “But I suppose we’ll go now.” He flung the knapsack over his back and adjusted its straps. “Littlelife will stay here until Cooper wakes on his own. I will escort you to the sphere. The way is easy, and the path clear, so we should make good time. A half hour, perhaps, even in darkness.” Littlelife exited the tent and sat down beside the unconscious pony. “Take care, all of you,” she said. “If Helia is wounded, Palantir’s supplies should help. If there’s an emergency, send up a signal. We’ll be watching.” Palantir nodded, then turned south. Aurum and Inky exchanged a silent glance and set off, side by side, behind him. Night fell, and a dusting of stars shimmered faintly above three silent travelers. Above the trees, against the darkening grey sky, loomed the great dome which encompassed their destination. Inky could not look away. Every time she thought she had a good handle on its size, a new vantage point seemed to make it loom larger. Aurum walked alongside her, pointedly staring ahead. He guided her through gentle nudges and along narrow passages, by blocking the occasional drop. Palantir remarked on every new tree or creature but, after receiving nothing but silence from his companions, eventually kept his counsel to himself. As predicted, a half hour after they had left the edge of camp, the path turned sharply south and ended in a stone spur which almost spanned the river, but instead led to a smooth, dark, glassy surface that appeared to stretch a mile in all directions. Palantir set down his bag, then stepped to the side to allow the other to ponies to pass. Neither took the opportunity. “This is the place we entered. Selene, Aurum, we have seen neither hide nor hair of Helia. I would assume she was within. Before you two enter, please let me give you a rough idea of what lies beyond.” Inky forced her eyes from the enormity that awaited and focused intently on Palantir’s face. She was only vaguely aware of Aurum standing beside her. “I cannot guarantee this is still the case, but as of both my prior visits, the realm has breathable air, relatively similar gravity, tolerable heat, and the like. The first time we entered, we found ourselves on a field of white flowers with a black sky, although we could still see. The second time, we were atop a floating island over a sunlit plain.” “You’re not going in?” Aurum raised a shaggy eyebrow. Palantir shook his head. “With all due respect, Aurum, if Helia has entered, I do not want to be present. They were quite eager to meet with the Selected, and I have the distinct impression that they only tolerated my presence because I was working to bring you here.” Aurum turned to Inky. “What do you think?” Inky shrugged. “She might be in there. Whether he’s going in or not, I am.” She unfastened her packs and slid out of them. Aurum blinked, then regarded his companion with a curious tilt of the head. “As you say, then. I’m with you.” The two turned in unison towards the sphere, and together, stepped through. The surface of the sphere felt like a soap bubble, if one could be forged of ice. It shocked the senses of the travelers, but that sensation was quickly dwarfed by what lay within. They stood atop a great stone platform adrift in an azure sky. All about them, gargantuan spires of earth and rock floated in obstinate denial of gravity’s pull. They spun lazily, gently shifting in height as if floating in a cosmic sea. As Inky got her bearings, she realized the enormous tapered columns of stone rose in a slow spiral towards a blinding light above, and an all-encompassing darkness below. She peered over the edge of her spire and encountered a strange wind flowing from those depths, whispering in forgotten tongues as it caressed the stone. She stepped away from the edge, moving closer to the apparent safety of the spire’s center. A presence—a sense of being—crashed into her thoughts, a cliffside collapsing into a shallow sea. She staggered on her hooves, then dropped to her belly, gasping for a breath she did not remember exhaling. Just as suddenly, the presence was gone. A voice washed over them, like the tolling of an enormous bell: They are here. Another replied, a wash of sparks from a smithy’s hammer: They are here. Aurum swayed on his hooves. His jaw flexed, and his eyes swum in terror. Inky staggered to her feet, looking in all directions. “Who…” her mouth went dry, and she coughed into a forelimb. “Who are you?” Something answered that she could feel, but could not see: We are. Another voice, lighter but no less potent, echoed the sentiment: We are who were, we are who will be, we are who are. Aurum grumbled something under his breath. “What should we call you?” he called aloud. I am called Tartarus. I am the realm beyond your mortal experience. I am what waits before the egg, and beyond the grave. I am called Equestria. I am the realm of being. All that are, are me, and I am all that are. Inky gave Aurum an appraising look and nodded at him in encouragement. She leaned forward with a half-smile. He cleared his throat and asked another question. “There was a third, mentioned to us. Our reason for being here. What of that person?” The third is not a person. The third is unmaking. The third cannot be a person. It is a whisper. A fraying at the edges. An undoing. The third we call Chaos. It is the end of things. There was something in the finality of those words which caressed Inky’s mind. It was a siren’s call, alluring despite—or perhaps due to—the distinct feeling of danger. She shuddered involuntarily. “There was also a third of us,” Inky called. “A pony. A pegasus. She may have entered already.” The pegasus is present.  A smile split Inky’s muzzle. “She’s here?” She spun about, peering in all directions. “Where is she?” She has begun her trial, as is her right. However, she does not fare well. Inky froze. “Trial?” The words were a bare whisper. “What trial?” asked Aurum. “Where is she?” Come and see. The spire on which the ponies stood shuddered and groaned, then slowly lifted skyward. As it sailed higher and higher, Inky peered into the bright sky above. Soon, she saw a swarm of moving specks which grew inexorably larger as they approached. The spire slowed and stopped beneath a whirlwind of broken, jagged stones twice the size of a pony. They whistled and hummed as they churned the air about them, orbiting swiftly about a column suspended at the center. At the middle of that column lay a white form, barely recognizable… “Elly!” shouted Inky. She raced to the edge of the spire, and shouted again. “Elly! Are you alright?” She cannot hear you. Her last attempt to best this challenge left her unconscious. Inky paced along the spire’s edge, searching the sky for something to speak to. “I… what challenge? Why are we being tested again? Wasn’t that the point of our Selection?” We had no part in that matter. We asked for one of each of your tribes. Now that you have arrived, we will offer you an opportunity, but you must prove yourself capable. Inky opened her mouth to speak, but felt a hoof on her shoulder. “Let me, Inky. You worry about Elly.” Inky dropped to her rump and absentmindedly patted at his hoof. “Yes, right.” Aurum raised his voice and called out once more. “What is this opportunity?” Chaos approaches. It has spied our work here, in the creation of this land. It is an envious being. It seeks nothing but the dissolution of order, and a return to nothingness. “And we are called to fight this Chaos?” he asked. You are. We cannot act against it. Not directly. We are all of the same moment. The same impetus. We can work against or with one another, but can neither help nor hinder directly. Aurum nodded. “You want us to be your representatives.” In a fashion. We have no need for herald or harbinger. Instead, we seek those who will keep watch, set to guard this realm against the encroachments of the other. In return, you will be given our power over all things of this world. So long as you live, that power will be yours to shape and guide this creation. Inky stood, never taking her eye from the fallen figure. After a moment, she shouted, “But what about Elly? We can’t just leave her there!” She will remain within the test until she surrenders, until someone completes it on her behalf, or until she dies. Inky’s heart raced and her eyes bulged. “I will take her place! Me! Give me her test!” You cannot take her place. She must give it to you. “But…” she began, before finally deflating. She sat on the edge of the spire and watched the white smudge in the distance. Aurum spoke again. “Equestria, Tartarus, what challenge is she facing?” She seeks to prove herself capable of doing what is right. “Right,” Inky spat. “And whirling rocks test that how?” “Inky,” Aurum growled at her with a level gaze. “Not now.” He raised his voice once more. “Is that your only challenge?” It is not. Equestria seeks a champion who will do what is right. I seek a champion who will do what is necessary. “Necessary,” Inky muttered at her hooves. Aurum coughed a warning, but she ignored him. “What’s necessary is saving Elly. Fine.” She stood, closed her eyes, and focused. Moments later, her horn burst into a blinding flare, flooded with every bit of magic she could muster. “You want us to dance for you?” she shouted towards the sky. “To perform your challenges?” Her head ached and her vision swam, but the magic she channeled never faltered. “I will do what is right and what is necessary!” “Inky!” Aurum shouted. “Are you mad?” Inky’s white-hot rage crystallized into seething fury. “Don’t stop me, Aurum,” she whispered, a hiss entering her voice. She glared at him, blinking away tears. “I will save Elly, and these two… two… things can stuff themselves.” She spun back towards the edge of the spire and, through enhanced senses, studied the scene. From this distance, she could not leap to the next spire safely, but she could change the spire. Reaching out with her will, she smashed the top of the column into shards, and spread them out. Weaving quickly, she tied each stone in place with an arc of mystic force, letting it drop after she had passed. She gave no thought to a return trip. Not yet. What mattered most was Elly. She stopped on the next column. One more to reach, and then the next would have her beside her old friend. This close to the whirling stones, she sensed a mystical presence, a motive force behind each one. Gently, she reached out and tried to untangle the enchantment. One weave, two, three, until the knot unraveled as if cut and, having nowhere to go, detonated. The rock disappeared in a deafening roar and a cloud of razor-sharp fragments. That wouldn’t do, so close to her target. Wait. Her target. Elly was a pegasus. She would not be expected to unravel a spell. Inky watched the stones more closely. They appeared to move at random, but as she kept time with the largest stones, she realized there was a pattern. It was complex, but there was a rhythm to the rotations. If she could move while there was a gap, she could reach Elly. Moving the remaining shards of the spire between her and the next column, she realized her power was waning. She would have to move quickly. She counted aloud. If she took four seconds to run, leap, and clear the jump... “One, two, three, skip, five, skip, skip, eight… now.”   She leapt, closing her eyes and expecting the worst. She was never the most athletic pony. To her relief, her hooves touched stone. One jump down. Two to go. Again, she observed the whirling debris. “Skip, two, three, five, seven… jump.” With the word, she leapt again, ending the spell that held her previous platform to preserve what magic she had left. One more, and then the column. The pain in her head reverberated with every heartbeat. She tried to make sense of the rotating swarm. “Three… no, one… four? One, five… nine… ah, forget it. Hup!” As before, she leapt from the floating remnant. As before, she sailed through the air, but halfway through her arc she took a shard of stone across her back. A second careening boulder knocked her forward, onto the final floating platform, but it was too late. Her store of power was nearly gone, and that platform slowly lost altitude. She watched in horror as the edge of the column slowly crept away. She had to focus. She had to dredge up every ounce of power she could to make that final leap, but… no. She was beaten. She was done. She knew her journey would end here… “Inky,” someone shouted. “You can do it! It’s just one more jump! I’ve seen you clear that distance without magic!” Inky looked over her shoulder and saw, in the distance, a familiar golden pony. He leaned dangerously over the edge, and strained to shout. “No, don’t look at me. Make the jump! Elly needs you!” “I… I can’t!” she shouted back. She knew it was true. Even now, the platform on which she stood leaned precariously and listed dangerously towards one of the lethal gyres. “I’m too weak! I shouldn’t have been sent!” “Weak? You? Adventuring across the wilds? Staring down Elly, of all ponies?” “You don’t understand, Aurum!” Another boulder rocketed past, shards of stone pelting Inky as she tried desperately to maintain her footing. “I’m a fraud! I shouldn’t even be here!” “You are the most capable unicorn I have ever met, and one with heart,” Aurum called back. “You can do this. You can make the right decision. Remember your Selection!” Inky sacrificed the barest thread of magic to amplify her voice. “I am remembering it, damn it all! You know that decision I made? When I ‘chose’ where Thistledown could not?” She dodged another fragment of stone and found the platform’s path had shifted again. “I didn’t choose a thing! The entire test was whether or not you could choose not to act, Aurum.” “Then you made the right decision!” “I made no decision! I was too terrified to do anything! The only reason I won is because they thought my shame was sorrow! I’m a fraud, Aurum, and I’m going to be the death of us all!” An eerie calm descended over the stallion’s features, and a light shone deep in his eyes. “No. No, you won’t.” Without a further word, he spun around on his hind legs, and walked towards the edge of the platform, peering into the dark below. “Aurum! What are you doing?” “What I must, Inky. Whatever happens, keep an eye on Elly. She’d be lost without you.” “I… no! You can’t do this!” The whirling vortex stopped. For a brief, blessed moment, there was naught but silence. A voice flowed through the realm, like Aurum’s, but bearing a different timbre… a greater weight. “I already have.” With the mystical torrents gone, the massive boulders began to lose their enchantments. One by one, they fell from the sky, slamming into spires, columns, and each other, throwing stone in all directions. And then, her power was gone. The platform beneath her feet dropped away, and she followed quickly after. She glanced left and right as she fell, but Aurum appeared to be gone. “I won’t let this happen,” she said aloud. She bounced violently off a passing stone. “I cannot let this happen,” she said again, gasping for breath. Deep within her heart, she felt a shift. A change. A newness. A surety. “This will not happen.” All the world stopped. Inky floated, aware, in the center of nothingness. The massive halls of stone that built the mountains, the rippling pools that formed the oceans, the shimmering glow of life throughout the realm of Equestria, and even the mighty orbs that shed light upon the world… all were as dust. It was in this dust that she sensed Elly and brought her to her side. A wave of energy pulsed forth, converting every falling stone and shard of rock to sand. The returning echo gathered the sand and spires together, forging a sphere of calm upon which she set her hooves. She gently lowered Elly’s form to the newly-made ground and willed her to wake. The faintest trickle of magic coursed through her body, and with a shuddering gasp, Elly opened her eyes. The mare scrambled to her hooves, flaring her wings. She turned to regard her friend, and was left speechless. In that moment of perfect clarity, Inky could sense her thoughts. The mare Elly thought she knew—a bookish, self-conscious pony—seemed so much more now. Her mane glowed with the lights of the night sky, and flowed as if it were in a constant gentle breeze. Her eyes radiated light, and her features seemed idealized—no, refined—as if she inhabited a fine sculpture meant to celebrate her. “Inky?” She peered at the beatific creature. “Is that you?” “It is I, Elly.” Her voice was richer, deeper. It seemed to encompass more with every word. “A decision has been made, and I fear a second one must come.” Elly danced backwards, agog at her new surroundings. “What do you mean?” “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “After all, you always wanted a sister, did you not?” The two of them felt a familiar presence. Tartarus has made his choice and struck his bargain. It is time to choose a champion of the living realms. Who shall serve as that champion? “We both shall,” answered the unicorn. Elly stared at her, dumbstruck. An interesting gambit. Pegasus, do you agree to shoulder the burden with the unicorn? Elly shook out her mane. “I… yes.” She gave Inky a half-smile, then leapt at her, clutching her sister in an enormous hug. “Yes,” she shouted, “I do!” So be it. It is time for the two of you to become. The glow that enveloped Inky expanded, encompassing Elly as well. It grew in intensity until Inky was sure she would be blinded, and then faded, a faint rainbow hue tinting the world as she regained her vision. Elly wobbled on her hooves. Inky leaned forward to steady her, but found that she, too, was unstable. She flared her wings for balance, and then realization dawned. Jerking about to see her new appendages, she bowled into her newfound sister, and the two paragons piled atop one another in a graceless heap. “Ow, Inky,” grumbled Elly. “You’re stepping on my face.” The two ponies carefully untangled themselves from one another: a slow process, made more difficult by their new shapes. Each was taller, now. Considerably so. Their features had been lengthened, from their muzzles to their necks to the matching slender horns atop each of their heads. Each now sported a pair of mighty wings, with feathers that shimmered as if dipped in silver and gold. Their cutie marks, oddly enough, were largely unchanged, save for seeming more detailed—more pronounced. They paced around one another, taking in their new forms, before they were reminded of the urgency of their visit. “Equestria,” called Inky. “What is it we are to do?” Defend me from those that seek to harm me. So long as I remain, so does ponykind. “How are we to do so?” asked Elly. You are different, but the same. Each of you shares the gifts of your ancestors. The wings of the pegasus. The horn of the unicorn. The gifts of justice and of insight. These are yours to wield in my defense, and the defense of your charges. Even now, unicorn and pegasus magic are filtering through me, strengthening me, and changing me. “What of earth pony magic?” You are not earth ponies. “But you mentioned our charges. Those who dwell here. We cannot survive without the gifts of the earth ponies.” “Aurum is an earth pony, Inky. What of him?” Elly raised her voice and called out. “Tartarus, what is his mission?” Silence answered. “Tartarus?” Inky called as well. Again, only the sound of the wind replied. After a few moments, a familiar golden-coated stallion appeared, stepping from behind a broken column. He was familiar, but changed, like they were. Broader in barrel, wider at the shoulder, stockier and somewhat shaggier. Each of his hairs glowed warmly in the light of this place, and the faded ribbons that remained in his mane shimmered like the summer haze over a farm. “Aurum, why doesn’t it answer?” “It does answer. It seems only I can hear. It says: I protect the realms beyond. Mortality is mine.” Inky blinked. “Mortality? Wait, if you control the line between the living and the dead, how will Equestria grow?” “With difficulty, I imagine. A land infused with your gifts will remain as hard to farm as it is now.” Inky realized it was difficult to separate Aurum’s replies from Tartarus. A moment passed and it dawned that such a distinction might no longer apply.“Is there anything you can do? Can you help us in our duties?” Aurum stared at the two ponies opposite him. He neither moved, nor blinked, nor seemed to breathe. After what seemed an interminable wait, he sighed. “I can make an Accord.” Elly shivered at the word. “How do you mean?” Aurum spoke carefully, gesturing with a hoof between himself and the mares. “My gifts—those of an earth pony—are not necessary where I will serve. I will give them to you. But there must be a cost.” At that word, he drove the hoof down. “There must always be a cost.” Inky stepped forward and looked Aurum over, her eyes narrowing. “What cost is that?” Aurum looked down at her. While she had gained in height, his had seemingly doubled. “In exchange for the defense of Equestria, and all forms of magic—Stars, Sky, and Soil—your powers will be restrained. Life will not be your plaything, neither to create nor destroy.” “I can’t agree, Aurum,” said Elly. “It might be necessary to take a life to protect Equestria as a whole.” Silence descended once more. Aurum tilted his head as if listening to something. “That is acceptable,” he replied. “Save where necessary in defense of the balance of Equestria, you may not destroy life, and despite possessing the gifts of the earth ponies, neither may you create it. In return, I will take under my watch those foes whose powers must be contained.” Elly and Inky exchanged a glance. Each nodded at the other. “Very well, we accept your burden, and your gift.” Aurum nodded, then closed his eyes. His features hardened, and his cutie mark flared. Suddenly, he held a golden sickle between his teeth. He opened his eyes once more, and they glowed with a faint green light. Before either mare could act, he lifted his right foreleg and placed the blade of the sickle against it. With a sweeping motion, he cut a thin red line around the first joint, then lifted the sickle high. A single drop of blood pooled on the crescent blade, collecting from its length, and then fell to the sand at his hooves. As it struck, it shone brilliantly, then soaked into the sand below. Where it had fallen, the ground glowed. This glow surged, racing forward until it reached the mares’ hooves. The two circled about, watching the pooling light beneath them. Like sanguine vines, crimson tendrils emerged from the sand and wrapped themselves around their hooves. A scarlet light shone brighter and brighter, and then winked out of existence. “It is done,” said the stallion. “Remember this day, Sisters, and remember why you chose this path.” Inky felt his gaze linger on her for the barest moment. “Equestria is, and will forever be, yours.” At these words, the pony’s golden hue faded, and his mane greyed as if coated with ash. Where the sickle made its cut was now a deep black gash, and the leg below it slowly withered away. Inky outstretched a hoof. “But Aurum…” “No,” he replied in a whisper. “That is not my name. Golden hay and summer rains are no longer mine. My sickles do not collect the grain or clear the chaff from the fields. Instead, I keep the harvested. In my great storehouse, I reward those who have lived well and imprison those who have not.” His eyes, now sunken pits in a gaunt face, flared green once more. A wave of shadow rose from the darkness below and crashed over him. Still, he spoke. “Remember our agreement, Sisters. So long as you keep our bargain, we will not meet again.” When the wave receded, he was gone. The mares stared at the place he had been standing. The sand bore three hoofprints, crisp and clear as if pressed into soft clay. Where the fourth print would have been, a faint smear of dust vanished in the wind. Inky stared in silence. Elly turned her eyes skyward. “Equestria… if you are still here… what happened?” I am here, for now. As to what happened between Tartarus and its champion, there are forms of magic more ancient than you know. Through them, many things can be accomplished. Sisters, I thank you. Over time, my voice will fade, and as it does you shall receive the fullness of my power. So long as you reign, I will live. The once-pegasus considered this. “But… what of Chaos?” What indeed? It had intended to take whoever remained from these challenges, but it appears that other plans will now be made. The two of you, working together, was something that none had foreseen, nor the earth pony gift. Your race is truly an interesting one, and in the aeons to come, perhaps we will learn as much as we teach. The land below them shuddered and lurched, and the two ponies stumbled on their hooves. It seems that the other champion has left the realm. Sisters, I propose you do the same. Without the assistance of Tartarus, this place will cease to exist. The two mares peered over the edge of the sandy sphere on which they stood. “Inky, get on my back.” “What? Why?” “There’s no path down, and we don’t know if you can fly.” Inky opened her wings and raised a slender eyebrow. “Well, not yet.” “Ah.” With difficulty, Inky managed to stretch herself over Elly’s withers, just before her wings. Elly turned about, paced along the top of the sandy island, and leapt… ...and together, the two sailed for the edge of the sphere. The fire on the hearth had faded to embers, and the candles had long guttered out, but the light behind Worker’s eyes shone as bright as ever. “Luna,” he breathed. “You have a gift for storytelling.” “I ought to,” she replied with a warm smile. “It’s been my bailiwick for millennia. You understand,” she continued, the lilt vanishing from her speech, “this is not common knowledge. A few tales approach the truth, but my sister and I feel it is best if our origins remain a mystery.” “I understand,” he said with a solemn nod. “It does not do to see what is in the magician’s bag.” “Well, we do not trick or bedazzle our subjects.” She smiled, a twinkle in her eye. “But the metaphor serves.” Worker stood and paced about, his thoughts whirring. “I have so many questions, though. What happened with Palantir, and Littlelife, and…” She smiled from her seat. “In time. I’m sure, in time, you will have your answers. For now, though, I have other duties.” Luna rose from the carpet and strode to the window. The blue-tinted sphere evaporated as she passed through it. With a thought, she unlatched the pane and focused on the western horizon, where her cosmic charge waited. Worker glanced to the east and saw the familiar glow of false dawn. Moments later, the sun broke the horizon and the moon sank from sight. A faint chime sounded from a nearby shelf. He chuckled, the raucous noise disturbing the serene calm. “You have one of my clocks,” he said. “You, who never forgets the time.” Luna smiled at him. “I like to see which of us runs late. Oddly enough,” she added with a wink, “it’s always the clock.” “That’s fine. I run late myself.” He scratched at the back of his head with a forehoof. “Speaking of…” “Yes.” She closed the window and unlocked the doors. “We must get you to your rooms. Skyshine will be worried sick.” She turned back to Worker, only to be surprised by a sudden hug. Worker wrapped one foreleg over her neck and pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his shoulder. “Luna,” he said softly, “thank you. For trusting me, for the story, and… well…” Gingerly, she reached up and hugged him back. A pat, then two, and soon he released her and stepped back. “Worker,” she said, her tone uneven, “If it does come to that—and remember, we still do not know—you have friends here who have been through it all. We’ll be here to help.” “Thank you. Sincerely.” He managed a clumsy bow, then turned, opened the door, and left, quietly closing it behind himself. “You’re welcome,” she whispered aloud, her eyes tracing over the heavily laden shelves. They stopped at a tiny painting she kept over the door. It was a reminder of an uncomfortable past, and a fear for Worker’s future. In it, a full moon shone, bearing a mare’s silhouette. “I only wish we’d have had the same.”