//------------------------------// // 17: Ascension (Part 3) // Story: The Successors // by Portmeirion //------------------------------// Blue Moon shivered in fear. Her hooves stood rooted to some invisible floor, and above her, beneath her, all around her, stretched an infinite, inky nighttime sky. Everywhere she looked, she saw stars – huge radiant stars, faint distant stars, white stars, blue stars, tiny purple stars. A thin, glowing mist filled the air around her, softly blurring her vision; if her sister was still close by, she couldn’t see her. She wasn’t even sure whether she was dreaming – shouldn’t she be afraid now? How was she breathing? How did she get here? Where was here, for that matter? “H…hello?” she said nervously, and her voice echoed in the cavernous void. She was not prepared for the response she got. It was a Voice. No, it was six Voices, speaking as one – or was it only one Voice, echoing six times in the void? She couldn’t tell. It was loud beyond description, loud enough to rattle her bones, and yet it made no sound, as though it were speaking not to her ears but to her heart. Its tone was warm and rich, deep and vast, like the voice of the ocean, and made her feel tiny, like a speck. But she was sure that it was the very Voice she and Summer had heard Calling to them mere minutes ago; when it spoke, the unbearable, aching emptiness in her heart was suddenly filled. It was intoxicating, enrapturing, surrounding her, soothing her. It was as if nothing else existed but the Voice. Blue Moon, it said. You have been chosen. She wanted to echo, “Chosen?” but the words stuck in her throat. She had a feeling that, if she had spoken, her voice would have been drowned out anyway. The Voice continued. And now, it said, you are being given a choice. You can embrace your destiny, enter a new life, and become something more than you are now. Or, you can go on living as before. Blue couldn’t believe her ears. Her destiny? A new life? Perhaps… perhaps this was the answer she had been waiting for. Princess Celestia’s visit to her parents all those years ago, her mysterious moon-shaped Cutie Mark, even that strange feeling of never knowing what she was meant to do with her life – this was the answer to all of it. But… what was this, exactly? “What do you mean? What is my destiny?” she wanted to ask. But again, the words wouldn’t come. Blue couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she didn’t need to know the answer. Something in the voice filled her with an unearthly calm, an assurance beyond all doubt that whatever it held in store for her, this was what she was born for. This was what she was meant to do. For a few breathless moments, she weighed her options, considered possibilities. What did the Voice mean, “enter a new life? Become something more?” What would she have to leave behind? Her home? Her dreams? Her parents? Her sister? What if her new life didn’t have any of those things? How could she ever be happy with it? But, the longer she waited in silence, the more powerful the aching, longing feeling in her heart grew. The Voice was the fulfillment of yearnings she never even knew she had, deeper hopes and wishes than she had ever recognized in herself in all the years of her life. Whatever the Voice promised, she sensed – somehow, she knew – that it was something greater and more wonderful than anything she would ever have chosen for herself. Timidly, she raised her voice at last. “I… I accept.” The stars glowed brighter, and the mist grew thicker. The Voice spoke again in an ever deeper pitch, a commanding rumble, ancient and infinite, like a voice from the heart of a star. A deep shudder ran through Blue’s body as the Voice shook her to her core. Go! it cried. And bear in thee now a new name! A blinding flash of white light filled Blue Moon’s vision, and a cacophonous roar filled her ears. Every hair on her body stood on end as a surging charge of power coursed through her from head to tail, racing like electricity through every vein. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, terrifying. Blue squeezed her eyes shut and tried to scream, but something stopped her: the terror faded in an instant, and something else rushed in to take its place. It was peace, peace like nothing she had ever felt. It was like her heart had been broken in two, and then put back together again, better than before. It was like she had suddenly found something precious and irreplaceable that she’d lost long ago, something she had been searching for her entire life, and it was even lovelier than she remembered. It was like every question in her troubled, worried mind was suddenly answered, all of them at once, and the answers were more perfect and satisfying and beautiful than she could’ve ever imagined. Then the light began to fade. The last thing Blue heard before she opened her eyes again was the Voice, crying like a distant echo somewhere behind her. It was a single word, and the tone was so clear and forceful that it left an imprint upon her very soul. Arise, Princess Aurora. Tentatively, Blue opened one eye, then the other. She was standing once again in the Hall of Glass, facing away from the chamber where the Elements of Harmony were stored. She glanced behind, seeing the doors to the chamber slowly shutting themselves, sealing the warm, multicolored glow of the Elements within. Blue sighed in relief and weariness – and then she whipped her head around, and looked again. She had wings. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Not only did she have wings, but she was taller, much taller than before, nearly as tall as Princess Celestia if her estimation were correct. Her pulse began to race. She shuffled uncomfortably on her hooves, and flexed her wings to feel if they were really hers. They were; and they were majestic, extending wider than any pegasus’s wings. She could feel her new muscles stretching and straining, she could feel the cool night air breathing against every white pinion. Her mind reeled and spun, and she sat down to rub her aching temples. Then her hoof bumped into something in the middle of her forehead. It was a horn. She had a horn now, too. Now there was no doubt about it. Blue was a princess. A real Equestrian princess. She might’ve fainted right then and there, if she hadn’t noticed her sister standing close by her side. “…Summer?” she whispered. “Is that you?” It was, though Summer had been transformed as well. She was taller and sturdier, with wings and a horn of her own. For an instant, Blue hardly recognized her, so strange was her new appearance. But then Summer turned her head, and saw her sister, and smiled an old, familiar smile. “Blue!” They embraced. “I think…” Summer said, giggling softly. “I think I finally figured out what our Cutie Marks mean.” “Oh, Summer!” said Blue. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I’m glad you’re still here, with me. I – I didn’t know what was going to happen to you. To us.” “Actually,” Summer said hesitantly, “I think – I think my name is supposed to be… Corona.” “Corona,” Blue echoed, testing the sound of the name. It was a beautiful name, but for some reason it didn’t sound quite right. “My name,” she said, “well, it said my name is Aurora now. Princess Aurora,” she added in a low whisper. “Hey, it said that to me, too!” Summer replied excitedly. “Blue, do you know what this means? We’re princesses now! For real! Both of us!” The golden-maned princess was beaming brightly, eyes full of hope and joy. She threw her forelegs around her sister in another hug. “Now we finally know what we’re supposed to be! Isn’t that awesome?” “Yeah,” said Blue, half-smiling. “I guess it is pretty awesome.” They held each other a moment longer before Aurora suddenly remembered. “The arrow!” Together, Blue and Summer – or rather, Aurora and Corona – raced out of the Hall of Glass. Aurora was surprised to discover how easy and comfortable it was to run with her longer legs, and she didn’t once stumble or trip over her own hooves. A short way down the hall, they found an open door leading out onto a balcony. The night sky over Canterlot was still and clear; there was no sound, no sign of the falling, arrow-shaped stars they had seen earlier. Pale daylight glowed along the distant horizon as the sun waited for the Princess of the Day to raise it into the sky, and an eerie calm hung over the city like a fog. It unnerved the sisters deeply. “Blue?” said Corona. “What… what do you think happened?” “I don’t know,” said Aurora. Then she glanced back inside, down the hall. “Come on. We need to find the princesses. They’ll know what to do.” A few more minutes of searching and wandering led them to the throne room. Along the way, they encountered no guards, no nobles, no officials, no ponies of any kind. The whole palace was dark, empty and quiet, and with every step their worry grew stronger. When they found the throne room, one of the great doors was already half-open. Voices were coming from inside. Cautiously, Aurora and Corona crept forward into the throne room – and gasped. A dozen or so nobles, officials, soldiers, and other assorted palace ponies were gathered in a semi-circle near the center of the room. Their faces were solemn and grave, and even the sternest eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Another small team of soldiers – several white pegasi from Celestia’s day guard, and several batponies from Luna’s night guard – were lowering something, no, two somethings, onto the floor at the center of the circle of ponies, and the sisters couldn’t quite make out what they were. Then guards parted, moving out of the way, and Aurora’s heart sank like a stone. It was Celestia, and Luna. Their eyes were shut, their wings and horns were scorched and blackened, and their manes, which once floated and shimmered with an unearthly magic, spilled limp and lifeless across the floor around them. Neither of them stirred or drew breath. They looked so majestic, so beautiful, even when they were… they were…. Aurora shut her eyes, trying to hold back her sudden tears. Corona fell to her knees in shock. Just then, one of the ponies noticed the new princesses. He was an old, gray-maned unicorn with a red scarf and a moustache so thick and bushy it covered his whole mouth. When he spotted Aurora and Corona, his one visible eye widened in surprise, the other being hidden behind a thick monocle. “My goodness!” he sputtered. “Could it be – yes, they told us about you, just before the end. You must be….” “What happened?!” Aurora demanded, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. “The – the Arrow of Saggita, your highness,” he said, and managed to bow his head respectfully. “An ancient living constellation, like the Ursa Major, only far, far more powerful. It escaped the heavens and fell, and Princess Celestia and her sister were able to stop it together, but they….” He trailed off, lowering his eyes sadly. The other ponies in the room cast down their eyes as well, stricken by grief. Aurora ignored them, and stepped forward, lowering herself down for a closer look at Princess Celestia – her shining ideal, her role model since foalhood, her hero. Gently, gingerly, she prodded her with her snout. There was no response, not the slightest stirring. The dam broke. Aurora collapsed, buried her face in Celestia’s mane, and sobbed. Minutes passed. She wasn’t sure how long; nopony interrupted her. At last she recovered herself, sniffling, rising again to dry her eyes. Then she stood up, and strode over to Luna – the princess she had once feared, and whom she now knew it was her duty to replace. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered, softly and hoarsely, her voice still choked with tears. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be the princess I’m meant to be. I’ll never allow Nightmare Moon to take me. I’ll honor your memory, and the Elements of Harmony, with everything I am, and everything I do. I… I promise.” Corona stepped up to join her at last. Her own eyes were red, her cheeks stained with tears. The sisters shared a glance: a brief flicker of warmth lit their eyes as they remembered the joy and peace they had felt not so long ago. Then Aurora stood at full height, turning to address the gathered nobles and guards, and cleared her throat. “My name is Aurora,” the new Princess of the Night announced. “And this is my sister, Corona. We… we are the new princesses of Equestria.” That morning, working in harmony, the two new princesses hauled the sun over the horizon, bringing the light of dawn to a new chapter in Equestrian history. Aurora opened her eyes. “…Summer?” she breathed, so softly she could barely hear her own voice over the howling wind. “Blue!” the voice cried again. There was no mistaking it. Corona was here. Her sister was here, right here, in this very room. And now she was in danger. The ice that coated Aurora’s body halted its progress, grew brittle, and began to crack. In an instant all the hatred and rage drained out of her heart, and love flooded in to take its place – love, and the overpowering urge to protect the one pony she loved most. She could picture Corona just behind her, small, helpless, her bright eyes open wide in awe and terror, and the image gave her strength. Magic welled up within her, power coursed like electricity through from her head to her tail. She felt strong again, and brave. She felt like a new pony. With a mighty gust, the Princess of the Night spread her wings, shattering the remaining ice and sending frozen fragments flying in all directions. White light poured out of her eyes, and piercing stars shone in the long, black locks of her mane that rippled and billowed in some invisible wind, untroubled by the storm that raged around her. Her eyes landed on Queen Warwing, still wearing the glowing gem around her neck, and narrowed into a steely glare. There was no more rage, no more hatred – only a clear knowledge of what she needed to do. A loud crackle of electricity split the air. From Aurora’s horn, a white lightning bolt leapt across the room, illuminating the hall in a blinding flash, and struck the griffon queen squarely in her armored chest. Earsplitting thunder cracked and rumbled, and Quila was knocked backwards, spinning head over tail, and tumbled right out of the shattered window. All together, the Windigos howled in near-panic, then whipped around and flew out the window as well, bound by magic to follow their master. Immediately, the storm inside the meeting hall died down: the snow that lingered in the air swirled for a brief moment, then drifted and settled across the floor, and here and there a few unfrozen griffons began to pick themselves up, glancing around nervously and curiously. Cold air still blew in through the broken window, but inside all was quiet and still. Aurora exhaled, bowing her head as her energies settling back down to their normal level. Her floating mane stopped shimmering and fall flat against her neck, and she quietly folded her wings. Then she turned around. Corona was there. She was standing, panting to catch her breath, in the archway between the two tall wooden doors that looked like they had been kicked open. Her head was bowed, and her messy golden mane hung in matted tresses over her face. Scratches and scuff marks covered her legs, and her wings, though folded, were ruffled and spattered with dirt and grime. She shook herself, dislodging a bit of snow that had settled on her back. Then she looked up at her sister, and smiled. “Hey, Blue,” she said. Her voice was soft, and her crimson eyes were shining. “I knew you’d come and save me. I knew you would, like – like always.” She sniffled. “You’re always taking care of me.” It was too much. For a moment, there was so much Aurora wanted to say, so much she wished she could do, that she couldn’t speak a word, couldn’t move a muscle. She wanted to run to her sister, throw her forelegs around her neck, hold on for dear life and never let go again, and tell her no, Summer, no, this time, you saved me, and I’m so thankful, and I love you, I love you so much and I’ve missed you more than my heart could bear and I was so afraid I would never see you again – but soon the moment had passed. A blast of icy air swept into the room through the open window, accompanied by a chorus of earsplitting howls and a series of swift, strong wingbeats. Corona gasped, and Aurora spun around to see what had frightened her. Queen Warwing had returned. She flew in through the window and alighted atop the great wooden table, which froze solid at the touch of her feet. Her steel armor was coated in a thick frost, with jagged icicles protruding at odd angles, and around her neck the magical stone blazed with a cold blue fire. The same light burned in her eyes, which narrowed into a hateful glare when they fell upon the princesses. She snarled wordlessly, and her ghostly, distorted voice echoed in the hall. Behind her, the Windigos swept into the room again and swirled all around her, weaving through the air in tight, deft patterns. As she stared, Aurora gasped in horror. There was no sign in the queen’s eyes of the nervous, uncomfortable hippogriff she had seen earlier. Quila had battled for control, and she had lost; now she seemed more Windigo than hippogriff, powered by mindless malice and revenge – all of it directed at the ponies whose magic had stung her so badly. Aurora turned, and shouted to her sister. “Run!” Corona didn’t need to be told twice. As one, the two princesses bolted from the room, leaving the frozen figures of Stargazer, Tempest, and the ambassadors behind them. Once out in the hallway, Aurora skidded to a stop and wheeled around, quickly using her magic to swing the heavy doors shut; an instant later, three long, jagged icicles pierced clean through the wood, stopping just inches short of her face. If the doors hadn’t been shut, the icicles might’ve skewered her. Taking a quick breath, Aurora stepped back and closed her eyes, trying to recall what she’d learned in her endless hours of training, and focusing her mind as much as she could on protecting Corona. A thin, flickering magical barrier appeared over the closed doors, shimmering with a faint silvery light. It wasn’t much, but it might buy them a few seconds. “Come on!” she said, turning to eye the labyrinth of stone pillars that filled the cavernous hall. “We need to hide somewhere.” “Right behind you, sis!” Corona replied. They managed to make it some distance away, hiding themselves behind a pair of wide pillars, before the barrier shattered. The doors broke open and another frigid wind rushed out of the meeting room. Quila issued a piercing war cry as she sped through the hall, and her voice mingled with the howls of the three Windigos that followed on her tail. Wherever they flew, frost and ice followed as well, coating the floor and columns and leaving behind a thick trail of sparkling white. They roared through the hall, weaving around the maze of pillars at a breakneck pace – but, for some reason, they seemed to be going in the wrong direction. Cautiously, Aurora peeked around the corner of her hiding place. Some distance away, barely visible in the dim lighting, something yellow was fluttering around among the pillars, distracting Queen Warwing and leading her astray. In seconds she and the Windigos had disappeared, barreling recklessly down a long, dark corridor towards the eastern wing of the castle. But then the yellow shape appeared again, having narrowly escaped its pursuers, and now Aurora recognized it. It was the golden bird. It winged its way over to the princesses’ hiding place and settled on the floor just beside Corona. To Aurora’s bewilderment, her sister smiled down at it. “What’s that thing doing here?” Aurora whispered. “It’s okay! Kyrie helped me escape!” Corona answered, beaming brightly. “She’s good, I promise!” “Really.” “It’s true!” Corona insisted. “That Blacktalon guy just made her do awful things because he was holding her children captive. But then he died, and she was gonna help me escape so we could find them together. But then the wind picked up, and there was that awful howling, and Kyrie’s song just stopped working, like the noise was drowning her out. Even I could barely hear her. So, uh….” She grinned sheepishly. “I kind of got us lost, looking for you. It’s a big castle, you know.” Aurora struggled not to smile. “That does make sense, actually,” she said, nodding. The hideous howling of the spirits had drowned out the bird’s magic song, just as it had disrupted Stargazer’s locator spell. The Windigos must have been swirling around the castle all morning, making their horrible racket as they waited to answer the queen’s summons. “So we were hiding,” Corona continued, “but then we found out you had arrived, and – well, we had to get to you somehow, but there were too many guards around the meeting room. So Kyrie sang as loud as she could, and her song boosted my magic so I could get past the guards to find you.” She reached out a gentle hoof, giving the silent bird a tender pat on the head. “Poor thing. I think she hurt her throat.” Aurora felt another smile coming, and this time she didn’t resist. Her sister’s compassion really was limitless. “I guess we do owe her now,” she admitted. She was about the offer the bird her thanks when a sudden gust of icy wind tossed her mane. She turned, and looked: ice was slowly creeping towards them across the stone floor, and the sound of howling was growing louder and louder, nearer and nearer. They had been found. “Run!” Aurora shouted again, leaping out from her hiding place. She cast a quick glance in her sister’s direction: Corona was running further down the hall, with Kyrie flying close behind. Satisfied, Aurora turned to face her enemy. Quila was barreling towards her, eyes blazing, and the Windigos howled and snarled right behind her. Aurora took the space of an instant to breathe, gather her strength, and remember whom she was fighting to protect. Once again, her own eyes began to glow, and her starry mane wafted in an invisible wind. Reaching out with her mind, she caught hold of the queen’s leg in a telekinetic grip and swung her aside as hard as she could. Quila screamed, careening from her flight path and smashing headfirst into a huge stone pillar. Fragments of broken masonry flew in all directions. As she fell to the floor, the queen turned her head towards Aurora and cried out, eyes flashing in fury. At her command, a Windigo swept forward, passing over Aurora’s head with a chilling whoosh that left frost in her mane. Jagged spikes of ice appeared from thin air in its wake, flying at her like arrows. The princess leapt aside, but a single long icicle grazed her right hind leg, slicing across her skin. She grunted in pain, and ducked for cover behind another pillar. “Blue!” Corona came rushing back down the hall at the sound of her sister in pain. She noticed Quila, still picking herself up from the impact, and dashed towards her. Her eyes were fierce, and her horn glowed with a furious golden light. “Summer!” Aurora cried. “No!” It was too late. The queen spotted the second princess, and another Windigo swept towards Corona with a piercing howl. Aurora jumped into the open again, and had just enough time to magically shove her sister out of the spirit’s path before it swept by, freezing the stone floor beneath it. Another volley of flying icicles missed Corona by inches. In the time it took Aurora to regain her bearings, Quila herself had already leapt into the air and closed the distance between them. The ice that grew all over her armor began to extend and reshape itself, forming a functional hoof-axe that jutted from her right vambrace. She shrieked, and swung. Aurora recoiled just in time, and the blade sliced a thick, black lock from her floating mane. Quila swung her axe with frightening swiftness; for the moment, it was all Aurora could do to dodge. The griffon queen hovered in the air over her head, swooping deftly this way and that, raining down blows from right, left, and above, forcing Aurora to step back with every swing. Even with all the power at her disposal, she didn’t have time to strategize, to conjure up a defense, or even to turn around and run. A chance blow nicked her right foreleg, and another cut a shallow gash in her side, and still Quila pressed her advantage, grinning with maniac glee. Suddenly, a great many yellow feathers filled her field of vision. Kyrie darted down from the ceiling, fluttering madly and distractingly in Quila’s face. She croaked hoarsely, her voice all but spent, but her intervention gave Aurora all the time she needed. As the queen batted the bird away with her free talon, another one of Aurora’s magical blasts struck her like a boulder. For an instant the dim hall was lit by a blue-white flash, and Quila let out another scream as she reeled away, spinning sideways and crashing into another column. The crust of ice on her armor shattered, and her steel mail clanged noisily against the stone as she fell to the floor once again. “Blue! Help!” Aurora turned towards her sister. Corona was some distance away, shivering and thrashing about, while two Windigos circled like carrion birds over her head. Now and again, with great effort, she would fire a golden burst of magic at the swirling spirits, but her attacks had little effect. The creatures had grown in size and strength, having already feasted upon the warlike griffons and haughty Equestrians, and were now drawing their power from Queen Warwing’s seemingly limitless well of fear and resentment. Already their baleful magic had caused a light dusting of frost to form all over Corona’s coat, and ice was creeping up her legs and freezing her tail. “Blue!” “Hold on, Summer! I’m coming!” As Aurora rushed to her sister’s aid, another Windigo swept down from behind her, passing just to her right. She managed to lunge to the left and avoid the flying icicles that followed in its wake, but her right wing was frozen in a thick coating of frost, so cold its mere touch was excruciating. The Windigo’s proximity had affected the floor as well, and Aurora’s hoof found a small patch of ice and slipped. Her injured forelegs buckled, and with an agonizing crash she fell to the ground. For a few painful seconds, she lay there, tired, bleeding, cold beyond belief. Stars danced before her closed eyes, and a harsh ringing filled her ears. Then another sound, echoing as though from far away, pierced through the darkness and found her. “BLUE!” And that was all it took. Aurora’s eyes flashed open, glowing white once more, as love and concern filled her heart and fueled her magic. A dazzling blue-white whorl of energy surrounded her horn, then spread out in all directions. For a few seconds, the dark castle interior glowed as bright as daylight. Love and hatred met and clashed, and the Windigos over Corona’s head howled in agony as they were washed away like tiny boats caught in a surging tide, swept down the hall until they vanished into the shadows. The ice that coated both princesses dissolved into mist, and Corona ran to her sister as she struggled back to her hooves. “You did it, Blue!” she said, stooping down to give Aurora a body to lean against. “You got ‘em!” “No,” said Aurora. Her starry, floating mane had turned black again, and fallen flat, and her limbs were weak and wobbly. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” She was right. Before another second had passed, the awful howling returned, the air grew colder, and the pale lights of the Windigos’ eyes were visible in the shadowy distance, coming closer once again. They were wounded, stung, but far from beaten. Aurora turned her weary head to glance behind. Quila, ever resilient, was picking herself up off of the floor once more. The gem around her neck still burned with a fierce blue fire, and her eyes still glowed with the pale light of the Windigos, full of pain and hate and the overpowering desire to take it all out on the princesses. Yet another Windigo flew just behind her, and jagged ice began forming on her armor again as the animalistic spirits filled her with their will. “We need to fall back,” said Aurora, and scanned her surroundings. Further down the hall, some distance from the battle, a single set of double-doors was open. White daylight poured through the archway. She knew nothing of the layout of the castle, or what might lie beyond the door, but right now any hiding place would be better than none. “Come on!” she shouted, and Corona followed close beside her as they dashed for the door. Inside was a wide, rectangular throne room built of gray stone, with a huge circular firepit at the center of the floor full of cold, blackened cinders. The wintry wind whistled in through rows of shattered windows, and ice and frost coated the walls and every object in the room. Without wasting another second, Aurora swung the double-doors shut and began erecting another magical barrier around them. But she was weary now, her spell kept unraveling even as she struggled to cast it, and already she could sense the Windigos’ winds battering against the doors from the other side. The shining, silvery barrier wavered and flickered, cracking like glass. It wouldn’t hold much longer. Then Corona strode up to her side. Her eyes fell shut, and she took in a calming breath as her horn began to glow with a warm, golden light. A second barrier began to form over the doors: warm and golden, just like Corona’s magic. Gently, it slid up alongside and over Aurora’s barrier, holding it up, reinforcing it, infusing it with energy of its own. Soon an extra-thick magical shield of interweaving silver and gold shimmered and crackled over the double-doors; it was not a permanent solution, but it might last just a bit longer. “Thank you, Summer,” said Aurora. She sat down, letting her mane fall in front of her face. Her heart was still thudding furiously, her dizzy head pounded, and her wing still burned from the deathly cold touch of the Windigos’ magic. Worse still, she was exhausted, just as she had been after her battle with Somnambula. Her legs felt like paper, threatening to crumple under her weight with every step, and now even her horn ached from overuse. The deep well of energy that had fueled her magic minutes ago had been drained nearly dry; only drops were left. The winds howled on. In these quiet, empty moments, removed from the immediate pressure of battle, Aurora at last began to crumble. Silently, she looked around at the desolate throne room, at the shattered windows that lined the walls, at the rattling hinges of the shielded door, and let out a long, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry….” “Huh?” Corona leaned towards her sister, tilting her head curiously. Aurora shook her head, feeling hot tears welling up. “I just… I can’t… I wish… No, I’m sorry…” “Sorry for what, Blue?” “I’m sorry that I’m not enough!” Aurora burst out suddenly. She rose to her hooves again, pacing furiously back and forth as her tired heart unburdened itself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I promised I’d take care of you. Do you remember? Back when we were foals. I promised. And – and now I can’t. I can’t protect you from this. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I let you down….” “Blue, no! It’s okay! We’ll figure something out!” Aurora continued pacing, fighting back tears, and ignored Corona’s protests. “I thought I could – I thought that, if I just focused as hard as I could on protecting you, it would make me strong enough. But – but it didn’t. My feelings aren’t enough. It doesn’t matter how much I focus, or how hard I work, or – or how much I love you.” She shook her head. “Stargazer was right. It’s just not enough.” At last Aurora stopped, and turned, staring with frightened, despairing eyes at the doors that separated them from their assailants. “Nothing could be enough to overcome all that hate,” she said softly. A quiet second passed. The doors shook ever more fiercely, and the magical barrier flickered and crackled as it strained against the terrible forces on the other side. Aurora collapsed in defeat, letting her aching head rest on the cold stone floor, and shut her eyes tight. Despair settled over her like a thick blanket. Then, a moment later, Corona spoke again. “No,” she said. “No, Blue. You’re wrong. There is something strong enough.” “Hm?” Aurora looked up at her sister through tear-blurred eyes. “What are you talking about?” “We need to use the Elements of Harmony!” she explained excitedly. A smiled adorned her face, bright and hopeful, and her voice was suddenly charged with new energy. “You know, like the way they defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord a thousand years ago! The Elements are pretty much the exact opposite of the Windigos, right? If anything could beat back all that hate, it’s them!” “But we can’t use the Elements!” Aurora said. “We didn’t bring the gems!” “That doesn’t matter!” said Corona. “I mean, we always have the Elements inside us! At least, that’s what Mom and Dad always used to say. And Glass Eye, too! They’re what help us live in harmony, and make us generous and honest and all that stuff. They’ve gotta be with us everywhere, all the time, right? Even now!” “Maybe,” said Aurora. She stood up again, glancing aside in thought, her gaze distant. Corona was right: that the Elements were always with them was something they had been taught ever since foalhood. A half-smile came to her lips when her mother’s words of encouragement from the other day suddenly came into her mind: “You’ve always been kind, Blue. You’ve brought us so much laughter. You have such a generous heart. You’ve never been anything less than honest. And there’s nopony in Equestria who’s more loyal to the ponies she loves. I know the Elements are with you, whether you feel that way or not.” At the time, those words had soothed her troubled spirit and filled her with resolve and confidence. But now, as she reflected on them, one item was conspicuously absent. “But I don’t have the Magic, Summer!” she said. “Yes you do, Blue!” “No, I don’t!” Aurora snapped. “I’ve done all the work! I’ve learned every spell, I’ve read every textbook backward and forward, but I still keep running out, exhausting myself. If I had the strength I needed to wield the Element of Magic, I would’ve mastered it by now. But I haven’t. I don’t. I just – I don’t have it in me.” She shook her head. Months of frustration and disappointment were boiling up to the surface, swirling together with her fear and despair in a disorienting haze. She felt small again, tiny, helpless. Like a foal again. Like a failure. “I just don’t understand,” she whispered tearfully. “I don’t understand anything anymore. The Elements chose us for a reason, didn’t they? Why would they put us – put me in a situation like this? If they knew I wasn’t… if they knew I wasn’t worthy?” “That’s your whole problem, Blue! I don’t think the Elements work that way!” Even as she spoke, gears seemed to be turning and racing behind Corona’s eyes, as ideas linked themselves together in her mind. “I don’t even think we need to be worthy of them, or anything like that. I mean, all of our strengths – our honesty and loyalty and kindness – if we ever had those things to begin with, it’s because they’re all just gifts from the Elements, right? Gifts! Not stuff we earn. And it’s the same with magic!” “But, Summer – ” “Darn it, Blue! Let someone else take care of you for once!” Corona said. “You don’t have to do this by yourself! You can’t do this by yourself. I don’t think anypony can!” Aurora couldn’t speak. Something had changed in Corona’s bearing. Her voice was stronger, almost older, and she seemed taller than before, her gaze level with Aurora’s own. Her ruby eyes, though still full of love, were stern and fierce, burning with some inner fire. “It’s not our own power, not really,” she continued. She stood at full height, placing a hoof to her chest. “It’s the Elements that give us everything we need, as long as we let them. I mean, how do you think I raised that shield just now? Before today, I could barely use my magic at all! Now look!” She waved a hoof at the shield protecting the throne room doors. “I could only do it because I knew the power wasn’t coming from me. And you’ve been trying to do that kind of thing all by yourself! No wonder you’re so tired!” Now Aurora looked at the barrier again, and only now it occurred to her what an extraordinary feat her sister had performed. Her own shield of silvery energy had by now dissolved completely, but the golden one still held up, steadfast against the terrible forces that battered it from the other side. It was impossible, as Corona had said. But there it was. Aurora’s head spun, and she closed her eyes, sitting down again. Corona settled down close by her side, sharing her warmth, and asked her an old, familiar question. “Blue… are you afraid?” There was a pause. “Yes,” Aurora said, and she nodded. “Yes, I am afraid. I’ve been afraid for a long time.” “I think that’s why magic is so hard for you,” Corona said gently. “All this time, you’ve been afraid of not being good enough, and it’s made it hard for you to trust the Elements to take care of you.” A sad look crossed her face, and her eyes fell to the floor. “It’s been kind of like that for me, too,” she murmured. “I mean, it’s always been you who took care of me. I thought I would always have to rely on you to look after me, and protect me, and – and do everything for me, really, ‘cause I just wasn’t strong enough or smart enough or brave enough by myself.” Then she looked up, and smiled. “And I guess I’m still not. I’ll always need something to rely on. But the Elements want us to rely on them instead.” “But – how?” asked Aurora. “How do you draw on them like that?” “It’s easy!” Corona replied, standing up again. “I just needed a moment to think, and remember how much the Elements have already done for me. For both of us. ‘Cause they’ve been with us a long time, right? I mean, generosity and laughter and loyalty and kindness and honesty – they’re all just as magical as, well, Magic, aren’t they? They’re all gifts from the same source. And Magic is a part of that too! Magic makes it all complete!” A soft, warm smile flickered to life on Aurora’s face. “Magic is the spark that ignites the power stored in the other Elements,” she said, quoting one of textbooks. “I suppose that’s – ” There was a sharp, loud crack. The sisters jumped, and turned. A long fracture had appeared on one of the throne room doors. A second later another crack appeared, then another. Thick tips of icicles pierced through the wood, sending splinters flying, and stabbed directly into the magical barrier, which crackled fiercely against the oncoming storm and threw hot white sparks into the air. Aurora turned to her sister worriedly. “Summer….” “It’s okay, Blue! It’s okay! Just think about the Elements!” “Are you sure?” Corona smiled at her. A light glowed in her eyes like a steadily growing flame. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been surer, about anything.” Then she turned her head, closed her eyes, and began to focus. With great effort, Aurora tore her gaze away from her sister and stared hard at the doors in front of her. With even greater effort, she shut her own eyes, ignored the rattling hinges and splintering wood and hideous howling wind, and tried to force the panic from her mind. She thought back. She thought of those endless springtime days of her foalhood, when she had kindly put her own interests on hold to spend precious time with Summer. She thought of all the laughter the two of them had shared, catching butterflies, planting watermelons, reading together. She thought of Lantern Jaw, and how hard she had worked, and how far she had gone, to remain loyal to the promise she had made – something will be done. She thought back to just an hour ago, of her reaction to Gloomhold’s treatment of its citizens, and how her generous spirit resented such selfishness and scorn. She thought of her resolution to be honest and forthright, and to make up for her dishonesty about keeping Ghost in the palace. As Aurora reflected, a strange, alien warmth began flowing into her from some unseen source. It was rich, soothing, and peaceful, like a stream of calming liquid coursing over and covering her heart. But the stream was still narrow, choked, as though something were blocking its path. There was another loud crack. Aurora’s eyes flashed open: another long icicle had pierced through the wood, digging into the magical shield. Panic surged through her, but she shut her eyes again and tried to focus. But it wasn’t really her, she thought. Those moments, those times when she had chosen to embrace the Elements in herself, they had all been gifts as well. She hadn’t really wanted to put away her books and catch butterflies with her sister, and it wasn’t really like her to laugh at herself when their attempt at planting watermelons had failed. Even her resolution to be honest had come only after she had given into her fear and chosen dishonesty instead. But there had been something else nudging her heart in the right direction, reprimanding her when she made a mistake, giving her the courage to try again. Her conscience, perhaps? Was that it? But then, she supposed, that was how the Elements worked. When she was feeling hostile, Kindness would enter her heart, putting her right with a little push; when she was feeling selfish, Generosity would creep in, undermining her self-centeredness. And so it was with Loyalty, and Honesty, and even Laughter. That must have been what Glass Eye meant, when he said that she had already been given everything she needed to build a legacy of love like Princess Celestia’s. All this time, she had struggled to prove her own merit, without realizing that it was never her own merit that had made her worthy to be a princess. She had always depended upon the Elements of Harmony, whether she realized it or not. Even the magic she wielded was not her own, but she had tried to rely on herself, her own efforts, her own will, her own feelings, to power it. And no, she wasn’t good enough, not on her own, not by herself. But she had never really been by herself to begin with. Looking back now, she could suddenly see it. Whenever she used her magic, there had been another nudging, tugging feeling at the distant corner of her perception, as soft as a breath, fainter than the pale glow of daylight on the horizon. It was Magic, she realized, the Element of Magic itself, asking her to let it into her heart. Even now, when she let her mind go quiet, she could hear its whisper; it was just like the Call, and just like her conscience. But she hadn’t been able to hear it before, not over the sound of her blind frustration, her endless worrying, her fear. A huge crack split the door on the right in two, and three more icicles plunged into the barrier. The shield shimmered and roiled in desperate, crackling waves, but Aurora barely noticed it. She had hated Stargazer for his pride. But she had been proud too, in her own way. She had been determined to prove her worth, to prove she was strong enough to wield her magic, and dedicated enough, and full of love enough – all just to earn the gift that the Elements were prepared to give her freely, just as they had given her a kind heart and a generous spirit. Her pride had been the root of her fear, that she would never be able to prove herself, and her fear had become a mental block. But she didn’t have to prove anything to anypony, not even to herself. The Elements had chosen her, lifted her up, filled her with their power from the very start; the Elements wanted to use her, little Blue Moon, to accomplish something wonderful, to play a part in the grand history of Equestria. Shouldn’t that be enough? Yes, she thought. She was still just Blue Moon. But she could be so much more… if she would only allow herself to be. Her lips moved, and words formed themselves of their own accord. “I… am ready… to… receive….” And as Aurora’s pride dissolved, her fear melted along with it, and something else flowed in to take its place. The choked trickle of glowing warmth became a gushing torrent, filling her heart to the brim with peace and power and purpose. She sensed something new enter the room – no, six somethings, all glowing and bathing her in a radiance that felt so new, so ancient, so achingly familiar, that it seemed to Aurora that she had known the feeling in some measure for all of her life, from foalhood to now, but now it was here before her, all of it at once, more real and more tangible than she ever could’ve imagined. She nearly wept. The princess felt her head bow, and her hooves were rooted to the floor by the invisible weight of the august presence before her. Now she recognized it for sure, without the slightest doubt: it was the very same presence she had sensed in the Void, during her ascension those three months ago. Then the weight lifted from her, very slightly. Slowly, but surely, Aurora opened her eyes. Corona was still at her side, glancing at her out of the corner of one half-open eye. A sudden spark of white shone deep in the black of her sister’s eye, and a sudden, electric thrill ran through the air. Corona nodded, then raised her head, empowered and unafraid. Aurora did the same, feeling the spark flickering to life deep within her own eyes as she did so. And in that moment, the shield shattered. The doors splintered apart. A ghastly rush of icy air swept into the throne room, dusting the torn hinges with frost. Quila Warwing, flanked by screaming Windigos, burst into view with blazing eyes. And then she stopped. The two princesses of Equestria stood barring her path. Their eyes glowed with a pure white light of their own, their shimmering manes floated and sparkled in an invisible wind, and their wings were spread, wide and menacing. Before them, six points of light burned and blazed like stars – purple, violet, pink, crimson, orange, and blue, each one pulsing and radiating with its own distinct energy, illuminating the dark, gray, dingy throne room with dazzling color. The Elements began to float around the sisters in a circle, slowly at first, then faster, eventually becoming a fierce whirlwind of color. White light, purer and brighter than the pale, unearthly glow of the Windigos, flooded the room, filling it with its own, cleansing presence. A sound like the melodious ringing of wind-chimes sounded throughout the frigid air, accompanied by a low hum that grew louder and louder until the ceiling shook, and the walls rattled, and every stone that built the castle shuddered as the power of the Elements of Harmony ran through the whole mountainside. The Windiogs shrieked and howled, squirming and twisting about this way and that in a senseless panic, and Queen Warwing quaked as the evil light in her eyes flickered and faltered like a dying flame. Aurora smiled, feeling the limitless power flow through her every vein – more power than she ever dreamed of wielding, far more than she could ever have conjured on her own. She raised her head, chin held high, and at her side, Corona did the same. As they did so, twin rainbows sprang forth from the spinning whorl of the Elements, rising and weaving around each other in a twisted, shining double helix of harmony. They soared upward, rising to the highest height of the vaulted ceiling overhead, before arcing forward and falling, barreling towards Quila with a thunderous roar. The griffon queen had only enough time to open her mouth in a choked, soundless scream before the rainbows crashed down upon her like a waterfall. There was a blinding white flash. The vibrantly-colored whirlwind that surrounded the princesses expanded, racing outwards in all directions. It passed through the walls of the throne room, flowed down dark hallways, coursed through the dungeons and mines, and flooded the skies of Gloomhold with light and color and warmth. The winter storm that held the land in its grip roiled and thundered in protest, but then the clouds reeled back, driven away by the colossal gusts that followed in the wake of the magical shockwave. A piercing howl split the air, then a whole chorus of howls, all crying out above the noise in agony and dismay, but in moments they had faded into nothing but distant, echoing whimpers. A soft rumble of thunder followed, and then all was quiet. The blinding light that filled the throne room slowly began to grow dimmer. Aurora strained her vision, trying to pick out objects in the haze. She could dimly perceive her sister’s shape beside her, and another gray shape some distance in front of her, but nothing more. But she felt inexplicably peaceful, warm and content. The overpowering presence of the Elements of Harmony had disappeared, but the comforting glow in her heart still hadn’t left her, and even though she had stopped using her magic, she could still feel her mane floating and shimmering with bright stars. Then the light faded even further, and at last everything became clear. The ice that coated the throne room had melted. The frost on the door hinges had dissolved into mist. Windigos were gone, and all trace of their influence had been expunged from Gloomhold’s citizens, its armies… and its queen. Quila stood, tottering on weak legs. Feebly, she raised her eyes towards the two princesses. They were rose-colored again, soft and weary, shining with unshed tears of shame and regret. On the pendant around her neck, the magical gemstone hung, dull and empty, drained of light and color. It cracked, a single fragment breaking off, then another; then it shattered, falling away into dust. The queen’s teary eyes gently fell shut, and she slumped forward, utterly drained and exhausted, onto the stone-tile floor of the throne room. Aurora heaved a sigh of relief, and folded up her wings. The fear and stress of battle was melting away just like the Windigos’ ice. She took in a long breath, and slowly exhaled, allowing the tension to flow out of her. Then she turned to her sister, and gasped. There was Corona. In the afterglow of the Elements, she no longer looked like Summer Sun, that helpless, frightened foal cowering in a windswept field all those years ago. She was a princess – strong, noble, overwhelmingly beautiful. Her mane glowed like shafts of light shining through billowing clouds, and sparkled like the afternoon sun reflected on the sea, and dazzled like sunbeams splintered into shimmering pinpoints by wispy morning fog. She seemed taller, her bearing more regal, and in her eyes burned a steady flame as warm and bright as the sun. Princess Celestia herself couldn’t have looked more majestic. Then, as the light in the background finally faded altogether, Corona looked no less regal, no less powerful – but then she turned to Aurora, and a familiar smile crept onto her face, and in that instant she was Aurora’s sister again, her best friend since birth, who made her laugh when she was sad, and showed her kindness when she was weary, and forced her to have fun in spite of herself. And she was here, and she was alive, and she was safe…. “Summer – ” “Blue – ” In an instant, the space between them vanished. “I missed you, Summer. I love you, and I missed you so much, and I’m so thankful you’re all right….” “It’s okay, sis. Everything’s okay now. I’m here. I love you, too. Everything’s gonna be okay.” They stood, just the two of them, in the wrecked throne room of a foreign kingdom, smiling and crying and together again at last, and held each other for a very long time.