//------------------------------// // Aisling // Story: Courts of The Magi // by Airstream //------------------------------// “Well, I’m just glad you’re safe.” Serale shuffled awkwardly. “Mother, please. I was surrounded by ponies who knew their business. Vino took command admirably, and Cobblestone worked out a solution very quickly, though I still don’t know how.” Twilight smiled at her daughter, smoothing the lines of worry that had been carved into her face from the moment she had appeared in the mirror. Serale preferred seeing her like this, she always hated when her mother worried. “I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready. And Vino’s turning out to be every bit his father’s son.” Serale didn’t know much about Vino’s father, who had died when she was very young. His records, those she could find, were impressive, but threadbare on details. It had gone into the decision she had made in selecting Vino for the Guard. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. “What do you recommend we do with the Sunborn?” she asked, changing the subject to address one of the biggest elephants in the room. Twilight’s face furrowed once more in thought, her smile gone. She’d learned the technique for making them from Celestia come centuries ago, though she’d never used them. This knowledge, coupled with her personal experience fighting them during the Rebellion, had given her a healthy respect for the Sunborn, a respect tinged with the slightest hint of fear. She knew the dangers all too well. “If he hasn’t shown any signs of instability, let him be,” Twilight said. “I’d recommend leaving him behind in Ponyville, but I don’t think he’d want to stay. From what you’ve told me, he seems to have imprinted on Cobblestone somehow.” Serale nodded her acceptance, though she harbored private misgivings about keeping him with her group. Weren’t the Sunborn supposed to be loyal to Celestia only? What if she found a way to re-engender that loyalty? Her doubt must have shown on her face, because Twilight spoke again. “I know it’s not exactly comfortable,” she said, “But Sunborn are extremely resistant to mental manipulation. If he’s loyal to Cobblestone, anything Celestia could do would leave him a drooling mess before she could restore any loyalty to herself.” “It’s not just that,” Serale said uncomfortably. “I’m worried about Cobblestone. Between the cat and the Sunborn, she’s starting to accumulate some companions that…well, they’re more than a little unusual, and obviously dangerous.” It was a valid point, and one that had been nagging at her all evening. Since they’d left the city, Cobblestone had changed. She’d claimed to have never been outside a city, but she seemed to know how to bargain with the Fae. Her cat was clearly more than a cat, and while her mother didn’t seem to be unduly worried, Serale was both worried for her friend and annoyed that she appeared to be out of the loop. And now this, with the Sunborn, and the bond she’d exhibited with it. It wasn’t just her, either. Serale had overheard some of the Guards bivouacked in the courtyard of the Inn, discussing the events of the evening in fearful tones. They’d said that maybe Cobblestone wasn’t just a thief, maybe not a pony at all. Words like “witch” and “sorcerer” had been used. Rumors had already begun to circulate theorizing just how she had gotten her apprenticeship and won the friendship of the Lady, none of them nice. “You’re worried about her,” Twilight said. “And I can understand that. But Cobblestone isn’t as open as you are, Serale. She wants her secrets to stay secret, and pushing her to tell the truth might not be the best idea. But in my experience, secrets have a tendency to sound much nastier than the truth. When you see her next, ask if she’ll consider sharing with you. If she’s not ready, I wouldn’t recommend pushing.” “She still seems so uncomfortable around me,” Serale said. “We talk during classes, and after, when I read the homework to her, but I still don’t know much about her as a pony. She’s guarded all the time, and the friendlier I try to be, the more withdrawn she seems to become.” Twilight’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know what you mean,” she said. She looked out of the window of the Inn, over Serale’s shoulder, and pointed. “Out past that tree, where the wall is, there used to be a small cottage, back when Ponyville used to be a village, and not a city. There was one of the most gentle pegasus mares I’ve ever known who lived there, taking care of the animals she found in the Forest. It was her calling, what she was good at. She lived out there because she was always a little uncomfortable around other ponies.” Twilight’s eyes grew misty with memory as she gazed back four hundred years. “In all the years I knew her, she never quite opened up completely. She got better, spent more time around others, became more confident in herself, but she was just a very private kind of pony. She was one of my very best friends before I…well, before I left.” Serale realized that her mother was likely talking about one of the semi-legendary Five, the ponies who had fought her during the Rebellion and became some of her most important political allies after the war. The fact that she was friends with them all at one point before leaving was only rarely brought up, and was hardly common knowledge. “Cobblestone will open up, Serale,” Twilight said warmly. “I promise. It’ll take patience and effort, but she’ll open up. In the meantime, let her have her space. Be there for her when she needs you, and let her have her space when she needs it. She’s been through a lot. I’d be surprised if she were acting friendly already.” It was good advice, Serale thought. She’d just need to make herself take it. “Thank you, mother,” she said. “I’ll try my best.” “Good,” Twilight said. “I’ve tried to do it before, but there’s no way you can really stay ahead of life without a few friends. Everypony needs somepony else, Serale. Just be sure to be there for Cobblestone like she’s there for you.” “I love you, mother,” Serale said. “I miss you already.” Twilight Sparkle tried to look strong for her daughter, really she did. She mostly succeeded. “I love you too,” she said, “More than words can express. Be safe until the train arrives tomorrow. Cadance’s airship should be there soon after. Call me when you get to Dawndale, and make me proud.” “I will,” Serale said around a lump in her throat. She blinked a few motes of dust out of her eyes. “I promise.” “Goodnight, mia stella e anima,” Twilight said. Serale placed a hoof on the mirror. “Goodnight,” she murmured back, feeling very small. Twilight’s reflection faded away, replaced with Serale’s own. She examined herself in the mirror. Her mane, normally a beautiful gold, was soiled with sweat and mud, hanging loose against her neck. Her coat, soft and shining silver, was more of a dull gray, and served only to highlight the bags under the purple of her eyes. Her horn, clear as ever, shone brightly still, but it hadn’t done her or the rest of her Guards any good back in the Forest. In short, Serale certainly didn’t feel like the competent Lady-in-waiting she was supposed to be. There was a knock at the door, and Serale took a moment to take a deep breath and tuck a lock of her golden mane halfheartedly behind one ear, before calling “Enter!” The door opened with a quiet creak to reveal Libra, clad as ever in her black robes, though she’d finally let her mane out of its customary bun, hanging loose around her face. “Milady,” she said respectfully, “May I come in?” “I already said ‘enter’, Libra,” Serale said, “And when it’s just us, outside of Starfall, you can use my name.” Libra did as she was told, closing the door behind her. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Back out from Starfall again. And I had just caught up on the work that had piled up while I was gone the last time.” Serale grinned. “Liar,” she said. “You told me that the paperwork a Magus had to do never ended.” Libra returned the smile, relaxing a bit as she did so. “True,” she conceded with a nod of her head, “But I’d caught up to this year, at least. At this point, I’m looking at it as insurance of employment. If I were to be released from service tomorrow, the poor fool replacing me would be crushed beneath a pile of papers.” Serale snorted, her melancholy evaporating at the thought of an avalanche of papers spilling down the stairs to Libra’s study. “There we are,” Libra said. “I knew I could get a laugh out of you. You looked like you needed one.” The young unicorn nodded, feeling some of her tension melt away. “I definitely did,” she said. “Thank you. Do you need to hear how things went?” Libra shrugged. “Only what you think is important,” she said. “I’m not privy to what you and your mother discuss, and I try not to eavesdrop on your communications.” Serale trotted to her bed, flopping down onto the mattress to the squeak of springs. “Mother agrees that there is a spy in the ranks,” she said. “What I don’t understand is how. I picked them all myself, made sure they had no reason to be disloyal. How did one turn coat?” “It’s not hard to drop suggestions into somepony’s mind,” Libra said. “All it would take for an experienced user of mental magic is a simple brush against the pony in question and a brief effort of will. Our spy probably doesn’t realize that they’re a spy.” “Could you pick that kind of thing up?” Serale asked. “Mental magic is noticeable, right?” “Certain kinds,” Libra replied, her horn flashing. A book bound in red leather appeared before her, and she began flicking through it. “But advanced mental magics aren’t my forte. Your mother could probably find it, but even then, most mental magic lays quiet until something triggers it.” “So the informant or spy or assassin won’t know anything until they get the order to strike, we can’t detect the magic until they do, and by then, it’d probably be too late,” Serale said. “I feel my good mood evaporating.” “We can’t find anything out through magical means,” Libra said. “Good, old fashioned detective work will likely serve us well, however. Launching an investigation would tip the spy off, obviously, so we’d need to keep it low key. Who could we trust in the meantime?” “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me,” Serale said, half-jokingly. “Cobblestone too, she didn’t know our route. I think you or mother would notice if somepony had messed with your head, too. Aside from that…” “Nopony else?” Libra asked. Her eyes widened, and she stamped a hoof. “Of course, Captain Fidelis. If he’d turned, his entire hive would know about it.” “I knew it was a good idea to appoint a Changeling as my chief officer,” Serale mused. It hadn’t just been Fidelis’s trustworthiness that put him into the top spot, of course. His service record was impeccable, and he didn’t share most of the hang-ups about tradition that most officers around his grade began to develop. That, and mother had insisted on a Changeling being in her officer’s group. She’d been pleased when Fidelis passed his trials. “So,” Libra said, flicking through a few more pages before closing the book with a somewhat irritated thump. “That brings us to four. Not much of a start, but a start nonetheless.” “The train will arrive tomorrow at about noon,” Serale said. “I can brief Fidelis on this before the airship arrives in the afternoon. It’d be a good idea to keep this private until we can verify the trustworthiness of others.” “I’ll be relieved to have the rest of the Guard here,” Libra said, worry tinging her voice slightly. “Not that I don’t put my trust in the constables of Ponyville, but the last time you and I stayed at an inn, things took a turn for the worse.” “A turn for the homicidal, you mean,” Serale corrected idly, staring up at the ceiling. She’d almost managed to put the memory of the incident out of her head. “Well, there are about two dozen Guards downstairs and patrolling the hallways and grounds. I’d say our odds are at least improved a little.” “Speaking of Guards,” Libra said, “I’ve been hearing some interesting rumors about Cobblestone.” Serale groaned. “Don’t even get me started,” she said. “I hate gossip. I understand that Cobblestone needs her space, but she’s not doing herself any favors by keeping secrets.” “Did your mother say what to do with the Sunborn?” Libra asked curiously. “He’s dangerous.” “There’s nothing we can do,” Serale replied. “If he won’t leave Cobblestone, we have to bring him with us.” Libra nodded, mulling it over. “You know,” she said, another book appearing in a flash of light by her side, this one bound in brown, “I’ve heard that the Sunborn were very good at detecting lies and falsehoods. If he’d spent all that time in custody of the Fae, he might not be an agent of the Shadow, or whoever it is that’s been plotting against you.” Serale looked at her in disbelief. “You’re suggesting we use him to help with finding the mole?” she asked. “Absolutely not. He’s dangerous.” “So am I,” Libra said simply, cracking the tome open, “But you trust me.” “That’s different,” Serale said. “I know you. I grew up with you. That…thing…is a monster made to kill ponies. It was insane to begin with, and I’m sure it hasn’t gotten much better.” Libra bowed her head. “I’ll defer to you on this,” she said. “But he could be a great asset.” Serale sighed, flopping back onto her pillow. “I’ll ask Cobblestone if he’s amenable,” she said, “But only after I’ve had a chance to see him for myself.” There was a silence, long and pregnant with unsaid worry. Serale finally broke it. “I’m worried about her, Libra,” she said. Libra looked up from her book. “Worried about Cobblestone?” she asked. “Yes,” Serale replied bluntly. “I’ve heard the Guards talking, too. If she keeps on keeping to herself, ponies are going to start to talk. The only one she spends much time with is her cat, and I suspect she’ll be spending a lot of time with that Sunborn. It’s not going to look good.” Libra returned to her book. “I wouldn’t worry,” she said. “I think you’re forgetting a few things.” “Oh?” Serale asked. “You and I both know that Hob is no regular cat, though what he is exactly remains to be seen,” Libra said. “That Sunborn was ready to tear down this city if it meant staying by her side. And to top it all off, Cobblestone seems to have a bit of knowledge about the magic of the Forest, not to mention her unique set of abilities and raw magical talent.” Libra closed the book, straightening up to leave. “I wouldn’t worry about Cobblestone,” she said calmly. “I’d worry about the pony that tries to cross her.” Serale watched Libra go, her stomach turning uneasily at the implications of that statement. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but she was just now starting to realize just how dangerous a pony Cobblestone might actually be. In the dark and calm of her bedroom, late at night, Serale opened her eyes. That was unusual in itself, she was a heavy sleeper, and hardly ever woke up before the morning, but it wasn’t the most unusual thing about the situation. The window to her room was open, and a warm breeze was blowing in, causing the filmy gauze of the curtains to billow softly in the moonlight. A bird sang sleepily somewhere in the distance, and Serale could smell woodsmoke and something else, something sweeter. Except this wasn’t how things should have been. Serale knew it was freezing, the depths of winter, and she never slept with a window open. Birds didn’t sing at night, Ponyville’s main source of fuel during the winter was coal fires, and she was not alone in her room. “Don’t be afraid,” a gentle voice said, and Serale turned her head slowly to see who had spoken. A young mare, with a coat of ivory white and eyes of green, framed by a mess of soft pink and purple ringlets, smiled back at her sleepily. She wore simple robes of blue fabric, tied with a cord of gold, and in one hoof she held a lantern that flickered with a muted light, though she could have simply used the horn on her head to lift it if she so desired. “You!” Serale exclaimed. The last time she had seen this mare, she had just discovered her powers, and had nearly been killed or worse in the process. She shifted in her bed, propping herself up on one hoof. “What are you doing here?” “The same thing as you, I expect,” the mare replied. “Visiting an old haunt.” “I’ve never been to Ponyville,” Serale said. The mare quirked an eyebrow, one side of her face tugging into a grin. “Well,” she said, “That’s both true and not. Come on, I’ll take you to where you’re supposed to be going.” Serale didn’t recall getting out of her bed, or putting on clothes, but suddenly, she was on her hooves, a cloak of dark red fabric around her neck. It was all she would need, she reflected, if the weather was as warm out as she thought it might be. “The Guards will catch us,” Serale said as she followed the mare out of the door, half-believing it as she said it. “I’m not supposed to be out of my room. Not after what happened today.” “Leanan told me what happened,” the mare said as they rounded the corner of the inn’s upstairs hallway. “And nopony will catch us unless you want them to.” “What do you mean?” Serale asked. “There are Guards all over this building. And who’s…” The stairwell where Guards should have been posted didn’t seem to exist. Instead, the front door beckoned invitingly, the distinctive carved-branch door handle gleaming bronze in the lantern’s light, just as she remembered it doing when they first arrived earlier that evening. Serale rested a tentative hoof on the handle, and it swung outward, though it had opened inward before. “It’s your dream, after all,” the mare said mischievously, the soft green of her eyes sparkling with good humor. “Come on, I can’t wait to show you around the old town.” “If I’m dreaming,” Serale said as they crossed through the abandoned courtyard, “And I know it, why haven’t I woken up yet?” “Because part of you doesn’t want to,” the mare said. “And that part would be me. I’ll let you go soon enough, but for now, don’t worry about it.” “Look,” Serale said, drawing up short at the edge of the yard, “Who are you? How do you know me? And…and what did you mean, back in the arena? What piece of you?” The mare stopped as well, and looked her in the eye, green meeting amethyst. She huffed in exasperation. “You’re definitely your mother’s daughter,” she said ruefully. “Always asking questions.” She threw her hooves wide, suddenly speaking in a loud, declamatory manner. “In life I was known by several names,” she said. “I was Rose Sparks, and Clarity, and Sybil, and half a dozen others! But in here, and for you, I am called Belle! Truest of servants to your mother, chiefest of her agents. And the first to claim the title of Magus, though none will ever acknowledge what I did.” Her voice rang out into the deserted streets of the town, bouncing off of walls and rattling windows. She lowered her hooves and her voice, fixing Serale with a look that was equal parts exasperation, amusement, and strange curiosity. “And in your dreams, especially this kind, that’s all I’ll be able to say of my name, though it isn’t all of it,” she said. “You’ll learn soon enough that names are very important.” A breeze swept by, seeming to nudge them towards the towering oak in the center of town. “But we have much to discuss,” Belle said quickly. “And it would be best if we did it inside the Library.” Serale frowned. “They don’t allow ponies in the Library,” she said. “Nopony except my mother and the Librarian, but she’s more of a caretaker than anything.” “It’s your dream,” Belle said again, as if explaining a lesson to a small child. “You can do what you want in it. I can promise it won’t be locked, especially to you.” Serale turned to look at the tree and noted without surprise that they were standing right in front of it, seemingly past the low chain that served to keep curious onlookers from doing exactly what she and Belle just did. With only the briefest hesitation, she reached for the handle of the Library door and twisted it open. The door swung in with a quiet creak to reveal a sight that she had never seen before in her life, but felt intimately familiar to her, like she’d lived her life in the tree. Bookshelves lined every wall, each of them packed to the brim with old volumes and new, and a circular reading table supported several more as well as a bust of a horse’s head. A staircase wound up to what appeared to be a private room, and a small recess in the wall led to what Serale instinctively knew were living accommodations, as well as a stairway to the basement. Above it all, perhaps incongruously, was a fresco of an eight-pointed sun, a sigil Serale knew all too well belonged to her aunt. “Familiar, right?” Belle asked as the door shut behind them. “Even though you’ve never been here before in your life.” “The bed upstairs is a bit lumpy, so you have to pummel it every now and then to get it comfortable,” Serale said. “There are thirty-eight steps on the stairs from here to the observatory. The rear-left burner on the stove has a busted pilot light, so you need to light it with your horn. Mother was going to fix that before she left for Canterlot with…” her eyes widened. “What’s happening to me?” “Calm down,” Belle said, her eyes intent on Serale. “That’s your mother’s part of your soul picking up on the memories in this place. When dreaming, the boundaries between our souls and the places we know are familiar are thinner. If you came in here awake, you might get a similar feeling of familiarity, but you wouldn’t get this.” Serale walked to a section of the room, near a reading stand for one of the books. “Mother was standing here when Morning Star was looking for her, the day she left home,” she said. “If I reach over my left shoulder right now, I should grab a book on the botany of water plants.” She reached over her left shoulder and grabbed for a book. She read the cover. Lilies of the Pond, it read, Proper Care of Flowering Water Plants. She put it back. “This is so strange,” she said. “Did my mother really know this place so well?” “It wasn’t just her home,” Belle said, “It was her life. Keep going, there’s more to see.” Serale closed her eyes tightly and racked her brain. “Some of these memories,” she said, concentrating, “They feel different. Like this one, it’s…” Suddenly, the door burst open, and three fillies with perhaps twenty years between them burst into the room. The leader, a young earth pony mare with a pink bow in her hair, led them to a section of the room on sports. “Ah know it’s here!” she said, searching the shelf. “Mac said if’n we wanted t’ learn more about hang glidin’, it’d be…” “Here!” cried her companion, a young pegasus. The orange wings on her back buzzed to no avail as she reached for the book in question, only to be beat by the third pony, a unicorn. The memory flickered out, and the room was silent except for the creaking of the Library’s branches. Belle looked at the spot where the three fillies had been, swaying a bit. Her eyes met Serale’s, perhaps a bit brighter and watery than they had been. “That young unicorn,” Serale began, “That was…” “Unimportant,” Belle said. “But now you know who your other half was.” “That’s what you meant when you talked about the piece of you,” Serale said. “You were the one who gave my mother the crystal.” “She told you,” Belle remarked, surprised. “I’d have thought…” “Mother was never shy about telling me who I was and how I was born,” Serale replied. “It made learning about how other ponies were conceived seem a bit strange, though. She never told me who gave the other part of the crystal, and I never asked. I never thought it was important until now.” “So, do you know why you’re here?” Belle asked, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. Serale, realizing she’d get nothing more out of her, tried to recall why she was in the Library. “There’s something hidden here,” she said finally. “Mother put it here centuries ago. You and she were the only ponies who knew about where it was.” “Do you know where it is?” Belle asked. “I can’t get it for you, I’m a visitor in your dream.” Serale thought. “I think it’s down in the basement,” she said. “The second basement, below where Spike lived.” She paused. “Spike…I remember him. Not from my mother’s memories, or yours either. How is that?” Belle shook her head. “You’re not ready for everything yet,” she said, “But the time will come when you meet him again. Your mother still memorializes him, too. When I was alive, she’d light a candle for him once a year on the night he died. If he’d left remains, she’d have dredged them for burial, no doubt about it.” Serale clutched at her chest, phantom sadness fluttering there, a shadow, but one so painful it threatened to drive her to distraction. “This is almost overwhelming!” she gasped, suddenly awash with memories of a purple dragon, from a grinning and sardonic hatchling to a handsome young drake. She remembered birthdays, and late nights studying nestled close together, and trials faced, and… “How does mother get by?” Serale wondered aloud. “Her grief must be profound enough to kill any other pony!” “It’s partly my grief, too,” Belle said solemnly. “I loved Spike like the brother I never had and more. But for Twilight, he was her world. I don’t think she ever recovered when he died.” “Come on,” Serale said, pushing the feelings to one side and wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized she cried. “We’ve got to get what we came here for.” Belle followed her as Serale walked across the wooden floor, every pit and groove familiar against her hooves, and descended the stairwell past a wooden door that had led to Spike’s room. Briefly, she considered opening it, to pay homage and respect to the great dragon that had once lived there, but decided not to. That was an experience she could not afford at this point. Forcing herself past the door, she continued down the gently curving stair, past a lab with equipment quietly stowed, strange instruments whose purpose Serale could only begin to guess at, and a few that were strikingly familiar despite their age. “Is that an elemental distillery?” she asked as they descended to the laboratory floor. Her goal was forgotten temporarily as she approached the intricate system of glass tubes and copper rods, woven together cunningly into a network of tangled shapes that were as beautiful as they were delicate and precise. “Mother made this herself?” Belle nodded, an appreciatory eye on the set. “Twilight made that herself to draw the chemical components out of the ground around her library, and most of Ponyville. Gold, phosphorous, lead, and so on. She used them in her research on magic.” Serale noticed another instrument, this one less obviously familiar, but the product was easily recognizable. “This is a charting table,” she said, “For plotting the paths of stars. If I remember my astronomy correctly, this chart’s stopped in early autumn. I can’t believe mother made this herself, in this lab. Not only that, she did it four hundred years ago!” “That table was damaged in the explosion the day she fled Ponyville,” Belle said. “I remember looking up at that night sky the day she left and wondering if she was seeing the same thing, too. When she left, we all took it hard.” Serale felt another pang in her chest as a memory that was not hers rose up unbidden, of desperate flight and a bolt of red fire plummeting from the sky towards her, calling her mother’s name. She grunted in pain, throwing open the door in the laboratory floor, and began taking the steep stairs down into the deeper darkness. This room was bare. It smelled of cold earth, and the walls were packed clay, nothing more or less. A few roots descended from the ceiling, fading into the distance of the long, rectangular room. The walls were burned black, and Serale saw ghostly impressions of a great web of string and parchment, and a few books carelessly strewn on the packed earth of the floor. Phantom panic washed over her, but was quickly gone, leaving only the lingering taste of urgency and dragonfire. Serale walked to the back wall, where a small section showed slight discoloration, so slight as to be unnoticeable to anypony who wasn’t looking for it. Focusing, pleased she could use magic in this dream without her pendant, she felt the small section crumble away. Inside was a book, a large leather tome bound to bursting with papers, some part of the book, others folded or clipped or otherwise fastened in, lending it the appearance of more of a folio and less of a book. Serale carefully withdrew it from the wall, noticing that despite the generally inhospitable conditions, this book was completely undamaged, if a little dog-eared. She blew away the soil instead of wiping it, purely for dramatic effect, and examined the title of the tome in front of her. It was titled simply “The Book of Once and Future,” and Serale opened the cover to the first page, withdrawing the note there. In her mother’s recognizable hoofwriting, it read, If you are reading this, then my plans have been set into motion, and you are my child. I’m afraid I don’t know your name, or what you look like. I don’t know who you are as a pony, what you’ve done, how old you are, if you’re a unicorn like me or even what sex you are. But know this. I will have done everything in my power to prepare you for this day, to help make you into the best pony you can be. Part of you is taken from one of the best ponies I have ever known, and so I hope some of her lives on in you. You will need every ounce of your skill, your determination, your knowledge and strength to succeed in what I have planned for you. The book in your hooves is visible only to you. It exists only as a memory in your mind, but one you can feel, see and sense just as you would any other book. You can’t lose it, you can’t damage it, and so long as you have access to thought and memory it will be yours. Inside this book is the heritage of our race, everything that we were from long ago, back in time of legend. Inside are names you will never find in books, places you will never find on maps, and ideas so long lost to time that they have become new once again. Inside this book is my hope for a new Equestria. This book is another of my children, in a way, the culmination of several lifetimes’ worth of knowledge given as a gift to you. I trust you will use it wisely, and consider what I have placed inside of it for you. Know that now it has been passed to you, things will begin to change for you in ways you could never have foreseen, and that’s okay. You have all the tools you need to make change, real and lasting change, and I ask you, for the love of our race, once and now and always capable of miracles, to see my vision through. My child, I do not know you yet, but if you are reading this, you already know that I love you more than words can say. I have no doubt that you will go on to do great things, and even if you cannot change the world of Equestria in your lifetime, remember that it is better to struggle in vain for change than to accept blindly even the most comfortable of sedentary existences. Go now with my blessing, and may happiness and fortune be yours forever. With love, Twilight. Serale pressed the parchment to her chest, feeling in it a love that crossed centuries. Her mother had written those words for her, and here they had waited all this time. “I understand that I’m to read this book,” Serale said, “But I can’t remember the contents. I should be able to, right? Mother wrote it.” “Your mother has had to forget a lot of things to get by,” Belle said. “Even after she won her war, she never stopped gaining powerful enemies. She’s outlived most of them, of course, but if even one of them should see what’s in this book, even a memory…” “And now it’s my burden to keep safe,” Serale said. “I have to visit three of the most powerful beings in Equestria, with more powerful ponies after me, and if one of them gets into my head, they’ll know everything.” Belle bowed her head deferentially. “You’re Twilight’s daughter,” she said. “Your mind is your greatest weapon, no matter how powerful your magic is. I have every confidence you’ll be fine.” Her ears perked up, as if catching a distant tune. “But for now,” she said, “You’ll need to be waking up” The room began to get fuzzy, and Serale felt the floor beneath her hooves start to give way. “Wait!” she said quickly. “Will I see you again? How can I reach you?” A thought occurred to her. “Back in the arena!” she cried. “You said I’d spoken with Mother, but you called my mother ‘Twilight’. Whose mother did I speak to?” “You’ll know when the time’s right!” Belle called. “Just get reading, and don’t forget to…” Serale shot upright with a jolt, eyes scanning the room wildly. The confines of the inn room met her gaze, and she scrambled out of bed to peer out of the window, drawing back the curtains. Weak winter sunlight met her eyes, causing her to flinch for a moment, but the pain passed, and Serale’s vision cleared to see a small crowd gathering around the oak tree in the courtyard in front of her. A tiny, wrinkled old mare wearing a heavy-looking chain was examining the door exasperatedly, which stood ajar in the cold winter air. Serale’s heart began to race as she realized that the dream she’d had was more than just a dream. She looked back to her bedside to see the book sitting there innocently, filigreed title shining cheerfully in the sunlight. Curiously, Serale picked it up with her magic, opening the window as she did so. It certainly felt weighty enough, and the pages rustled gently as she moved the book out of the window, and let it drop into the yard below. She peered out of the window to see that the book had not landed in a heap on the front lawn, and turned back to the bed. It was sitting on her pillow, waiting for her. So Belle had been telling the truth about that, at least. Serale shut the window and began to pace nervously. The note had told her that she was to carry out a plan it sounded like her mother had been contemplating for centuries. The Book was secret knowledge, to be shared with nopony she didn’t trust absolutely, and even then, they might think she was crazy. She didn’t even know if she could do what her mother asked of her! She was a beginning magic student with a mile-long list of enemies who’d hardly set hoof out of her castle until two years ago, not a fighter or a revolutionary. Serale shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. Belle had been right. She was Twilight Everstar’s child, heir to her throne, and her mind was her greatest weapon, just as it had been her mother’s. So, then, what would her first course of action be? Serale thought she knew that already, just as she knew what had happened in the Library outside her window all those years ago. Settling in, Serale opened the book to the first page and began to read.