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// The Goddess and the Enchantress 
// Story: Tales of Equus 
// by Snake Staff 
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	Now, it came to pass in those days, when the gods still walked openly in the world in their full glory, that the goddess of the night came into the habit of wandering the domains of the three sisters in the hours of darkness. Far and wide she would journey, bound only by her own whimsy, simply to see the lands from more humble point of view than was possible from her high mountain home. She found that she loved observing the nightly labors of the mortals she so dearly cared for, finding in their simple enterprises a novel and welcome diversion from her divine duties.

Notwithstanding her desire for purely aloof observation, the goddess found within a short span of years that mortal ponies, by chance or fickle fate, had espied her in turn. The tale spread like wildfire throughout her domain, and soon, each night, wherever she went the goddess was beset by mortals bearing offerings and prayers for her. The goddess was vexed by this, for she received more than enough of those, as she accounted it, when she dwelt upon the mountain. No matter how many times she attempted to drive them away, each night more came to her, until she felt as if she might drown in the supplications of mortal ponies.

“Alas,” said she to herself, “We know no rest, and we can no longer merely watch our subjects, for they will not cease their petitions.”

The goddess of the night could have cloaked her divine essence in mortal form, as she and her sisters sometimes had in times past. But when she considered this thought, she remembered her offended pride. For it had not been long, as the gods reckon such things, since she had been humiliated by the gifting of the golden apple to her sister, the goddess of love, over herself. As the goddess thought, she began to see an opportunity to regain her lost dignity by surpassing the feats of her siblings in the arts of disguise.

When the goddess looked upwards and beheld the night sky she had created, inspiration came upon her in a flash.

“Hark!” said she. “For now we know how we may both have our peace and humble our siblings in the eyes of all the world!”

It was with such thoughts in her mind that the goddess of the night did ascend into the heavens, and plucked for herself some of the very blackness of the night sky. For years she labored long and hard to fashion the blackness of the night into a cloak of finest navy, that when worn would wrap the wearer in the deepest of shadows, rendering them invisible to all. Such was her mastery of the craft that the goddess found she could wander before the divine eyes of her very sisters in broadest daylight without being perceived.

With her creation the goddess was most pleased, for at last she had her nightly respite from those who would beg her indulgence. Still the greater was her pleasure in throwing off the cloak before her sisters’ shocked faces, for they had suspected nothing of her design, nor could even their greatest efforts replicate her skill. So it was that the goddess of the night exalted herself above her siblings, and she grew very proud. Far and wide did she spread the tale of her miraculous creation, for so confident was she in her work that she believed she would at once have her time undisturbed and be held in awe for her cleverness by mortals. And for many years it was so.

As it happened, there lived in those times a mortal enchantress of great power and learning. However, she was leaving behind the last of her youth, and she began to fear that soon her season would pass, and the god of death would come to claim her for his own. For all her magical arts, she knew not a way to prevent this from happening, until by chance a traveler imparted unto her the tale of the goddess’s cloak.

“Ah,” thought the cunning sorceress to herself. “A cloak that is able to conceal she who doneth it from the eyes of the very gods themselves? This surely then is mine key to eluding he who would claim mine soul.”

So the enchantress hatched a scheme, whereby she would take the goddess’s garment for herself and thereby achieve endless life.

To achieve that end, the mare put out a story of her own. In this, she proclaimed for all to hear that she had outdone the goddess of the night, and made for herself a mantle that could not only conceal her from all, but allow her eyes to pierce even the magic of the goddess’s veil. Word spread far and wide of the mortal who had the audacity to exalt herself above the very gods, and as the enchantress had intended, it soon came before the ears of the divines.

When the night goddess heard the tale, she was much incensed. Long and hard had she worked to create her disguise, and now some mere mortal witch boasted that she could not only match, but surpass the divinity’s success? Swiftly she decided that such insolence could not be allowed to stand.

Thus, it came to pass that the goddess of the night appeared before the enchantress’s dwelling in a great fury, and demanded that she come forth to explain her proclamation. But when the enchantress went before the deity, it was with a welcoming smile and a bow. 

“Greetings, divine creator of the night,” said the mare. “I bid thee welcome to mine humble abode, and invite thee to make full use thereof.”

“Save thy words,” answered the wrathful goddess. “For we know that thou hast professed thyself more proficient in the arts of concealment than us, and we demand explanation, or else thy recantation of thy contention.”

Said the enchantress, “Oh goddess, I meant thee no offense. For I am but a lowly mortal dabbler in the mystic arts, while thou art a great and noble titan of the heavens.”

“Cease thy honeyed supplications. They will not avail thee with us. We command thee to show us thy craft, or admit to thy falsehood.”

The mare bowed low once more. “I would, my goddess, but…” 

After a pause, the goddess pressed her. “But what, mage?”

The enchantress gave the deity a look of fear. “But thy vanity and pride are well known amongst the ponies of this land, oh great one. I fear that, if by some chance mine craft proves to have some edge on thine, thou will destroyest it in thine anger.”

The goddess scoffed. “Trust thou not in our word of honor? For we swear that we shall not harm thy work. Such is beneath us.”

“If I could but have some small token,” replied the mare at length. “Something to reassure my poor self of thy honesty whilst thou examinest my creation…”

The goddess of the night, too indignant at the offenses against her pride to see the danger, answered thusly. “So be it, mortal. We shall condescend to humor thy petty fears. Thou may holdest our garment whilst we consider thine own. But be warned: it will go poorly for thee if thy work is naught but some insipid jest at our expense. For we are not idly mocked.”

The enchantress bowed. “I hear and obey, oh divine one.”

The goddess snorted with disdain. “Then lead on, oh mistress of the arcane.”

So it was that the sorceress lead the goddess into her home, and showed her to a room wherein she kept a beautiful velvet cape of midnight black and blue. The goddess, honoring her word, hoofed over her own elegant wrap before turning to consider that which the mortal had produced. It took her expert eye naught but an instant to unravel the nature of the thing.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she snarled in anger. “This cloak ‘tis but ordinary fabric! Thinkest thou to play us for a fool?!”

But when she turned her head to gaze upon the enchantress once more and berate her, the goddess beheld naught but empty space.

“A fool indeed thou art, oh great ruler of the night!” came the sound of the mare’s mocking laughter.

At once the goddess comprehended what had happened. “Treachery,” she hissed, before unleashing her godly might upon the witch’s dwelling. In but an instant, the old house of clay brick and firm mortar was mere dust on the wind.

But of the enchantress, and the goddess’s cloak, there was no sign.

Great indeed was the night goddess’s rage at the mare’s trickery. Even more severe was her chagrin at herself, for having been so easily led into forfeiting her most prized creation. For one hundred days and one hundred nights did the goddess scour all the lands, seeking after her betrayer and her stolen prize, but it availed her not, for the magic of cloak could not be overcome, even by divine vision.

When at last the goddess of the night returned home to the temple atop the mountain, it was in burning shame and deep humiliation. Greater still was her dismay in learning that the story of her loss had somehow spread amongst the ponies of the land, and that her sisters already knew of her humbling at the hoof of a mortal. Beaten and disgraced in the eyes of all, the goddess would bear a deep grudge against the enchantress for as long as her immortal life endured.

As to the enchantress? Her guess was proved correct in the end, for although the god of death sought her as he does all ponies, he found her not. His sister’s work was enough to elude even the hunter of souls, and he was forced in the last to concede to her escape and return to seeking other ponies, though it stung his pride badly to do so. Though she had earned the wrath of not one, but two of the gods, the sorceress was never caught. There are those that claim that she wanders the earth invisibly to this day, still laughing at her victory over the divine.