By this point, Hope Springs was literally living two lives.
On the one hoof, she was in the Lost Cavern of Soap Candy in Equestria, surrounded by ponies both free and enthralled, and Midnight Sparkle was speaking with the voice of her friend. And on another hoof, she was a rogue thought in the mind of Mary Jo Powell in Los Angeles on the world of the humans, surrounded by other humans playing out the fate of Equestria, and Midnight’s words were spoken by Ellen Powell on Earth an instant before she heard those words uttered by Midnight on Equestria. And not only sounds—she also saw through Mary Jo’s eyes, eyes whose motions she could not control.
If she had lived less than a mortal lifetime, she might have had difficulty with this situation; developed a headache, at the very least. But the same talent that allowed her to handle hundreds of years of memories also allowed her to manage simultaneous conversations with relative ease.
But even with the doubling of information available to her, or perhaps because of it, Celestia was having increasing trouble getting a handle on what was happening around her. In desperation, she retreated to the Astral Plane, without taking Midnight with her. She expected the Equestrian world to freeze while the Human world continued, probably with M.J. narrating her actions to the players and spectators, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that she was surrounded by silence.
Celestia took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Instinctually, she reached out a hoof and summoned up an imaginary miniature planet Equus. Imaginary scale models of the moon and sun orbited around it.
Celestia imagined all of the ponies living and suffering on that world, with innocent ponies twisted into individuals like Firebelle in the swamp, individuals who saw violence as the only solution to every problem, who classified everyone who was different as an enemy instead of as a potential friend. She imagined all of the dragons and other intelligent beings, twisted even more, into creatures of aggression and bloodlust. She imagined she could hear all of the suffering inhabitants of Equestria crying out, crying out to her for rescue. She imagined...
Celestia flicked her hoof, ever so slightly, and the cries became those of thanksgiving. Equestria was free, because Celestia had freed it. Once again, Celestia was Princess. Once again, every pony, every dragon, every griffon and every minotaur that lived in Equestria hailed her as their savior, as their paragon of virtue, for did not her absence lead directly to the horrors of the Game? Would they not become even more dependent on her than before? Would not her head be turned even faster by their empty praise? And would that not mean another inevitable failure, like...?
A blackness washed across the imaginary Equus, another cry of pain and torment. But this was not the cry of Princess Celestia’s subjects, no. This time it was the cry of the one who she had failed, her sister Luna, trapped because of her failures inside the mind of a mad Nightmare, in the cold surface of the moon, for all eternity.
Celestia groaned in anguish and turned away from the tiny terrestrial system. She took a few moments to clear her thoughts, and returned once again to her conundrum—what to do about that door. Turning back to the model, she fixed her eyes on the small planet and as she stared, it zoomed towards her, larger and larger. Through the surface of the earth her vision penetrated, reaching down to the lower level of the Lost Caverns of Soap Candy, a level with a large hexagonal black space in the middle, where nothing further could be seen. The space that she and the other members of her group were currently occupying.
“So,” she said to herself as she tapped her hoof into the darkness, “we’ve reached the center of the map, the place where the forbidden treasures are stored, the source of the dimensional disturbances, the portal to Tartarus.” She desperately leaned closer to try to make out some detail that was being obscured from her, the sort of thing only visible on M.J.’s own map...
“Could I?” she asked herself tremulously. “Would it cause the whole world to collapse in on itself?” She smiled mischievously. “Oh, but I do so want to try.”
And so she summoned Mary Jo Powell into the recesses of her own mind for a little chat.
# # #
The human who appeared before her was utterly speechless at the majestic sight of the tall white alicorn mare with flowing pastel mane.
“Do you mind if we—?” Celestia began.
Mary Jo held a finger up in the air to stop her, turned away, and then screamed at the top of her lungs for nearly a minute.
“Um...sorry?” a confused Celestia said afterwards. She then summoned up a glass of warm tea and honey to offer to her.
M.J. gratefully took a few sips from the glass before answering. “Oh, that wasn’t for you—not really. Mostly it was letting off the stress from how crazy this game is getting, with so many people watching. Although I will admit that you pulling me into what looks an awful lot like a coma is somewhat disconcerting. Will I awaken in an intensive care unit?”
Celestia shook her head. “We are frozen in time,” she told the human. “When I let you go, you will find that no one will have noticed that you were ever absent. Now, while I have you here, I would like to ask you what is going to happen next.”
“You want me to give away the ending?” M.J. asked incredulously. “Are you the sort of pony who reads the last chapter of mystery novels first?”
“Yes,” Celestia answered without hesitation.
“Well I’m not going to tell you,” M.J. answered petulantly, turning away. “I put a lot of effort into writing this, and I won’t have you spoil it.”
“Spoil what?” pressed Celestia. “A bloodbath? An insoluble deathtrap? You know now that these are real ponies walking through that door, as real as any human in your ‘convention center’.”
“Y...yes,” M.J. wavered. “Well, I wouldn’t have created the endgame the way I did if I knew that earlier, would I? Nevertheless, what’s on the other side of those doors has to be dealt with before the game ends. Before the players stop playing, and you get your friends back.”
“Why?” Celestia practically begged. “Why can’t you, I don’t know, accidentally set fire to the game and call it quits?”
“Because this game counts!” Mary Jo replied, turning back to face the alicorn. “The consequences of these showcase games continue after they finish, don’t they? When Brian’s antics release yet another monster on the countryside, that monster doesn’t fade into sunlight when he stops playing—it’s something that you Equestrians then have to deal with! Well, what’s behind that door has to be dealt with, because if my players don’t do it, there will be consequences. More ponies and humans, and who knows what being pulled into the caverns. Until...” She gritted her teeth. “Until Dreadna, Eggswife’s ‘treasure’, her daughter and unwilling successor, emerges to carry out the dead conqueror’s master plan: to carve out another empire. There, you made me give it away.”
“Tell me how to stop it.” Celestia held up a hoof beseechingly. “Please.”
Mary Jo sighed. “Just go down there,” she said. “Believe me when I tell you that you are uniquely qualified to handle the situation.”
“And will I have my power ‘down there’?” Celestia asked.
“I don’t see why not.”
As Mary Jo watched, Celestia closed her eyes and concentrated. Her form flickered a few times, before fading out, leaving Mary Jo alone in the nothingness.
She only had to wait two seconds.
Celestia popped back into existence, her expression set. “I didn’t change!” she exclaimed to Mary Jo. “I was able to go back, and everything was frozen, but I could move. But I couldn’t become Celestia.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Mary Jo. “I’ve released any restrictions I had upon you. You can become Celestia any time you please. What is holding you back?”
“I can’t,” said Celestia, bowing her head. “I just can’t. You do it. You save Equestria.”
“Me?” Mary Jo asked incredulously. “But you’re the ex-Princess!”
“And you’re the current goddess of Equestria!”
“No,” said Mary Jo, shaking her head. “Howard is. Or whoever it was who invited him to start this whole mess.”
“Discord!” Celestia hissed. “He must have set some rule up about holding one form for too long. It sounds like something He’d stick into a game without telling anypony beforehoof.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Mary Jo. “You surely couldn’t summon me like you’re doing now when we started, so that means you’re getting more and more powerful. Just...just end the pretense already! I figured out you were Hope Springs ages ago, and I hadn’t said anything to be polite, but this is getting ridiculous! For God’s sake, why...?” She stopped herself on seeing Celestia look regretfully at the small white orb with the silhouette of Nightmare Moon upon its surface. With a deep sigh, she hung her head and said, “Very well. We’ll handle it without your direct intervention as Celestia. Now, is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“No,” Celestia said, pacing back and forth. She stopped suddenly and looked up at Mary Jo. “But thank you for your cooperation. I’m going to bring Pat Crowther in here next. Do you want to stick around?”
To M.J., this sounded like an excuse, another reason to put off the moment when she’d have to take charge of Equestria, but outwardly, she did nothing but nod in seeming agreement. “She’s probably going to be much more willing to talk to you with me around,” she said.
“I’m not sure if I believe you,” Patricia Crowther said a few minutes later, after Mary Jo Powell had completed her explanation of how the two worlds were linked, and of the course of this adventure in particular. “Perhaps it would be safest for my sanity if I simply assumed that I was dreaming this whole thing.”
“Sure!” M.J. said a bit too enthusiastically.
“So, Mrs. Crowther...” said Celestia.
“Ah, the talking horse,” Patricia said, turning to face Celestia for the first time.
“Pony,” corrected M.J.
“Oh course,” Patricia said with an inward eye roll. “What would you like to know?”
“These caves in Equestria where you currently are, they are based on the ones you know in the human world, yes?”
“Yes,” Patricia answered.
“Are there any monsters in them?”
“What? No, of course not! There are certainly hazards: rockslides, subsidence, flooding, pockets of unbreathable air. Perhaps even a hibernating bear. But no monsters.”
“But these caves have monsters, the ones in this adventure.”
“Believe me, I know,” said Patricia. “We barely made it past that pack of junior demons with our lives.”
“Why?” Celestia asked. “Why do you think stories have to be populated with monsters? Why do there even have to be stories at all?”
Mary Jo, seeing that the question was not addressed at her, remained quiet, a hand to her chin.
“So you know you are in a story?” Patricia asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Of course,” Celestia said. “I’m in Mary Jo’s story. Perhaps not as an expected character, but there nonetheless.”
“Well,” said Patricia. “Telling stories are how we make sense of the universe, and stories have to have monsters in them. How else are the heroes to prove themselves? Defeating the monster provides the goal of the game. Good defeats evil, and everybody lives happily ever after.”
Celestia sighed. “But that isn’t how it goes. There are always consequences, as Mary Jo told me earlier. There is no ‘happily ever after’. There isn’t even any sense, because tomorrow there will be another ancient evil from the dawn of ponies that nobody had ever heard of until that very moment. Fight after fight after fight against the forces of evil, and for what?”
“Glorious death scenes?” asked Patricia. At receiving a shocked look from Celestia, she replied, “What? That’s the best part!”
“Not if you’re the survivor!” exclaimed Celestia. She turned to Mary Jo. “I...I’m not blaming you for this. I see now that you humans simply have a pony way of thinking, exaggerated in some very unfortunate ways. I’m going to do everything I can to help your players to survive this encounter without becoming directly involved. But please, please, let this be the last time!”
Mary Jo nodded, and stepped forward to hug the distressed alicorn. “I promise,” she said. “I’ve already got that offer to create a new setting, a truly fictional setting, for Ponies & Dragons. This will be the last Showcase set in Equestria.”
“Thank you,” Celestia said, pulling out of the hug. “They’ll be able to build a perfect society without me, I’m sure of it! Well, I suppose we’ll have to go back now.”
“Yes,” said M.J., with a disappointed frown on her face.
With a sigh, Celestia returned first Patricia, and then M.J. to their respective places.
Many times have the adventurers opened those ebon doors, and many times have they discovered themselves elsewhere. This time, however, it appears they have, at last, made progress.
The room beyond the ebony and silver doors was brightly lit and wondrous to behold. It was a perfect sphere thirty ponylengths in diameter. The upper hemisphere formed a dome of lapis lazuli, as dark as the night sky at the top, as pale as a twilight horizon at the equator. The lower hemisphere was serpentine, pale green at the equator, deep green at the bottom of the bowl. The sides of the sphere were perfectly smooth, and looked as if they could not be climbed or walked on.
Beyond the door, which opened onto the sphere’s equator, was a one pony-width wide ledge of green serpentine. Five other doors opened onto similar ledges symmetrically arranged along the equator of the sphere.
A three pony-height tall decorative openwork screen stood at the edge of each ledge. The screen at the edge of the nearest ledge was carved from rare wood and inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. Through the openings in its intricate carvings the party could see a jeweled lathorn on a golden chain, hanging from the center of the dome. Within the lanthorn a steady amber flame burned. Its light was magnified by crystal lenses set in the framework of the lanthorn. The warm and comforting light from this lanthorn made the very air seem to dance with motes of sunlight and moonlight combined.
The lanthorn hung above—
“How long is this description anyway?” Brian whined.
“Long, so shut it,” Alexia said irritably, before regretting her words. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” snarked M.J. “Now please continue.”
“The lanthorn hangs above a bier on which a pegasus mare sleeps. The—”
“A beer?”
“No, a bier. It’s a kind of couch.”
“A sarcophagus?”
“What makes you think that?” Alexia asked somewhat nervously. “It’s just a couch.”
“Oh.”
The bier was a panel of snowy alabaster resting on a block of rose-colored marble. This sat on a broad stone dais rising from the center of the floor. Laid on the dais about the block lay small carpets, and a pair of beautifully fashioned stands held rare porcelain vessels. At the foot of the marble block was a low table with a crystal bowl filled with a rainbow of gems. At the head of the block was a silver tripod which emitted a tiny plume of sweet-smelling smoke.
The sleeping maiden was armored from hooftip to neck in gold-chased plate. A bastard sword lay atop her body, stretching from her neck to her hind hooves. The pegasus’ booted forehooves were crossed over the sword’s pommel. Her face seemed composed beneath her pale white fur. She wore bright red lipstick, and her raven-hued tresses were lustrous. A helmet with plumes as black as the maid’s mane rested on the slab just above her head. Surrounding her were runes and sigils inlaid in gold—moons, stars, and strange symbols.
As Griffon and Firebelle watched, the pony maiden slowly stirred. She passed a wing across her brow, and then blinked her eyes open. She looked around until she spotted the two visitors through the screen, and smiled sweetly. “My rescuers!” she said happily.
“What do you do?”
“Hmm…” said Brian. “How much treasure is down there?”
“All of it,” Alexia said simply. “Except for the lanthorn, which is hanging at eye level.”
“I suppose I could get that last,” said Brian. “Could I slide down to her—”
“Yes,” said Alexia.
“I wasn’t finished! Could I slide down to her, and still look cool?”
“Oh, probably not.”
“Then I’m flying down. Coming with me, Cripple?”
By now Mary Jo had recovered from her experience in Celestia’s personal dimension, and she was now fully in-character. “Firebelle bristled,” she said. “‘You do what you want. I’ll join in as soon as I see something to fight.’ She starts searching the room for something. Choss, impatient that the battle hasn’t started yet, pushes his way in, nearly shoving Firebelle through the screen.”
“‘My hero,’ said the warrior maiden, reclining on her uncomfortable bier and waiting for Griffon to approach. She holds out one hoof expectantly. Burnished Lore, standing a ways back from the entrance, rolls his eyes. ‘Do I even need to tell you ponies now that this is an obvious trap?’ he asks.”
“‘No, but I believe that Griffon has already decided what he will do,’” Ellen said in character.
Luke passed a note to Alexia which read, “Look for any obstacles that would keep Carry from getting to the Lanthorn.”
“None that you can detect,” read the reply. “The chain appears to be unmagical gold. You can probably break it—and reduce the chain’s monetary value by half—with minimal effort.”
“Oh, you had to add that,” Luke sighed, as he thought it over.
Erica was shuffling character sheets, spellbook sheets, and a rough sketch of the room. “Um...Calorous, is this the type of wall that will reflect my spells’ areas of effect?”
Alexia shook her head. “It will spread it along the wall, but as far as you can tell, it won’t push your spell to fill the whole room....you think.” She turned to Brian. “You’re at the bottom of the sphere. Do you help the maiden?”
“Why should I?” he asked. “She’s a freakin’ warrior! No, I start putting the gems into my packs—I figure they’re the most valuable items here that aren’t artifacts.”
Alexia smiled incredulously and shook her head. “The maiden seems rather put off by this reaction. ‘Is anypony going to give a gentlepony her proper respect?’ she proclaims.”
“Oh,” said Mary Jo, as yet another complication presented itself to her brain. “There’s some knocking on the iron doors behind you. I, uh, can still role-play the passage, right, Alexia?”
“Sure,” said Alexia with a shrug.
“Good. Facet tries to open the doors, but there are no handles on this side, and the doors resist being pried open by her magic. ‘Who is it?’ she asks in a loud voice. ‘Haallooo!’ cries a rather annoying voice from the other side.” M.J. passes a note to Ellen. “It’s your favorite uncle, Prince Blueblood. Except that he’s not your favorite. At all.”
“Oh joy,” Ellen groaned. “Uncle Blueblood. Please tell him to go bury his own head in a ditch.”
“‘Oh, Midnight Sparkle, how delightful that you aren’t dead!’ the Prince exclaims from the other side of the door. ‘Now please move aside, because I need to speak with Celestia.’” M.J.’s expression made it clear that she had as little idea what was going on as Ellen did. “Hope walks brusquely past the others to the door. ‘Celestia’s not here, and the rest of us are not in the mood!’ she says forcefully. ‘Not even if you’ve come at the head of a whole army—’ ‘Of dragons?’ Prince Blueblood interrupts with a superior smile that can quite easily be imagined in his voice. ‘Why yes, yes I did. Would you terribly mind if we came in, Miss Springs? We can sort this whole monster-fighting problem for you right now, and then I have a few items for you that were entrusted to my family a few years ago...’ Hope turns very pale. ‘I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she says, not very convincingly. ‘I think you do,’ Blueblood replies. ‘It’s a very unique set of armor, worn by a very unique individual.’ Hope snorts angrily. ‘I insist that you are mistaken. Also, that particular set is a fake and you know it. Finally, those iron doors will not open as long as the ebony ones are open, so I’m afraid we have nothing further to say.’ ‘Right!’ the Prince could be heard to order. ‘We go to the next door then!’ Hope does not look happy at this. ‘Just go away!’ she exclaims sadly.”
Ellen, who had been quietly watching her sister’s inner dialog, suddenly spoke up. “‘Wait, Uncle!’” she exclaimed.
“There is a brief pause before the sounds of dozens of hooves—hooves, not claws—stops and one particular set approaches. ‘Yes, Midnight?’ an exasperated prince replies.”
Ellen did her best to look stern. “‘You know who I am, and what I am capable of. I ask you to withdraw from this place. You will be given credit for a portion of the victory. We are currently in a space barely large enough for our group, and an army would do you no good. Do you really think that your dragon friends would drive themselves into a stone sarcophagus on your whim, only for you to shut the lid?’”
“Given the thickness of the doors, the deep sigh that the Prince just uttered has to be inferred. ‘Midnight, Player, whoever you are...I am not like you, and I will never be. I want nothing to do with the treasure in these caverns. Nor do I officially care one way or the other about who lives or who dies in there. (Although personally, I’d like to make this bloodless.) All I care about is the well-being of Miss Hope Springs.’ ‘And what do you intend to do with “Miss Hope Springs?’ the pony in question asks. ‘What could you possibly hope to accomplish that I have not been able to do by myself?’ There is a silence on the other end of the door, as the Prince ponders how to phrase his answer for not only Hope Springs, but both attendant audiences on either side of the door.”
“Oh, M.J. here you go.” Luke passed her a note that simply said “Breaking chain at very top.”
M.J. gave the note to Alexia. “I’m covering the passage; Alexia’s covering the inner sanctum.”
“Well,” said Alexia. “Since you said nothing about how you intended to catch the lanthorn…” She waits about one second.
“I hold onto the chain?” He said with a hopeful smile.
“The lanthorn itself weighs twice as much as you do. The whole chain, being made of solid gold, is ten times heavier than you. It falls like a stone straight for the as-yet unnamed warrior maiden.”
“I’m hoping she’s evil to assuage my guilt,” Luke grumbled, as most of the group looked between the Lanthorn folly and the Blueblood conundrum.
“The maiden, having watched your every move, grabs onto her sword and leaps into the air, easily clearing the falling lanthorn as it smashes into the dais. The lanthorn and chain breaks through the lid of what in fact does turn out to be a sarcophagus, revealing a shallow depression, not really deep enough to hold a pony. In this depression is a box-shaped brass cage filled with several pieces of platinum jewelry. There’s probably additional layers below this one, but this is all you see at the moment.”
“Yoink!” Brian exclaims.
“‘Yoink?’” asks Alexia.
“Yeah, I snag the cage when nobody’s looking.”
“Everybody’s looking!”
“Oh, uh...” He looked over at Mary Jo. “Give me a distraction!”
“What? No! ...Oh, come on!” M.J. practically suffered mood whiplash from how fast the part of her brain not under her control ran away from her. “At that very moment, the northern door to the chamber opens, and a group of ponies and dragons emerge onto the platform. Chestnut, you recognize your brother Sorrel, depending on if you’re paying attention to the inner sanctum or to what’s going on with the outer doors. Carry On, you may or may not recognize Copper Plate. Midnight’s definitely not placed to know what’s going on, and neither is...oh wait, Hope decides to run over to the screen. She pays no attention to the new arrivals, and instead addresses the hovering white pegasus. ‘Dreadna, I beseech you! You are about to face more foes than even you can handle. Take the rational course of action, and withdraw.’” Mary Jo looked apologetically towards Alexia for barging into her part of the story.
Alexia gives her fellow pony-handler a hurt expression for what she did, then reluctantly continued. “The pegasus bares her fangs in rage at being exposed. ‘Never!’ she cries. ‘You will all submit, and die!’ She flies straight for Carry On, and attacks.” She rolls the fatal die to hit, and another for damage. “She touches you with her wing feathers, and you lose 9 hit points...and two levels.”
“I’m only level one,” Luke said in a shocked tone.
“Then you’re dead,” said Alexia sadly.