//------------------------------// // Prologue: Treachery // Story: Restoration // by Masterweaver //------------------------------// She really did favor talking to ponies from other tribes, when she thought about it. Her hooves clipped quickly down the stairs, eyes shooting over her shoulder. At the very least they were predictable. Oh, that wasn't to say they were stupid by any means. Earth ponies, for instance, were assumed to have slow minds, but they were only slow in the sense that they tended to their thoughts with the same dedication and care as the crops they grew, and with the same delicious and versatile end results. Theirs was the realm of connection, of construction and family, tying all together in the everlasting bonds of mutual support and adoration. They worked with their whole bodies; even the inventors among them insisted on crafting their ideas with their own four hooves. Earth Ponies were... not strength incarnate. Endurance. Perseverance. Stoic. She paused for a moment, grabbing an ornamental sword and throwing it down the left junction of the hallway she had entered. The blade was clattering loudly as she rushed right. Where the Earth ponies celebrated in creation, though, the Pegasi reveled in destruction. No, that wasn't fair either; they were not nearly as barbaric as the rumors portrayed them. They just had a need to assert their dominance, a constant desire to remind others that they were always flying above them--even when they were on the ground. Vindictive when betrayed, but unfailingly loyal to those whom they flocked to. Their ways were violent, passionate, and uncontrolled--they wore their hearts on their feathers, and used those feathers to protect their hearts from any perceived danger. Pegasi were Power unbridled, Heart without mind, Strength over fear. Both of them accepted the world as it was, broadcasting their intentions with every move. The Earth ponies were as indestructible and patiant as the plants they grew; the Pegasi were as bombastic and flighty as the clouds they maneuvered. But Unicorns? Unicorns were tricky. She skidded around a corner of the castle, slamming a hoof into a very certain floor panel and galloping forward. Thirty seconds. It would have to be enough. Unicorns manipulated magic directly. Unicorns felt the weave of the world and made it their plaything. Unicorns loved games, even from an early age. Not games of strength or honor, but games of delicate maneuvering, games of trust and betrayal, game where a pawn could be the keystone between victory and defeat. Where the other two tribes exercised their bodies, the Unicorns devoted their every moment to the study and development of their minds. And because of that, even when you knew what they wanted you could never predict exactly how they would go about it. Unicorns were their own worst enemies. With a heavy gasp, she dove for the small gap in the bookshelves just before it slid shut. There was the briefest of moments where she composed herself, her ears flicking left and right in an instinctive attempt to assure her loneliness. Then she ran her hoof through her mane-- Her crown was missing. She didn't bother even giving a worried gasp, her mind already running into overdrive. It was possible--likely, even, that it fell off during the chase. Probably just as she jumped for the bookshelves. She pressed an ear against the rear of the bookshelves she had jumped through, lighting up her horn and recasting the sound-sensitivity spell she so favored. Silence. Too much of it, really. Somepony was deliberately silencing the library. If this was a basic coup, they'd be right outside, searching. But she had reason to suspect that the pony behind this was far more intelligent than that... which meant they were silencing the library to make it appear they were more foolish. But to what end? They would know she could see right through it, which meant they were appearing stupid for the benefit of one that would actually be fooled by it--no, overthinking would lead to tangled thoughts, unable to move. So, they were hiding their actions from her. Which meant they were preparing something-- With reflexes born from a hundred failed assassinations, she jumped to the side of the small room and pushed herself into a small bend in the corner. From here she could watch as whatever they were planning shoved through the bookshelves--a second's warning was still warning enough to make half a plan. She was a master at improvisation. There was no clock to tick away at the seconds, no window through which she could see the sun moving. Only her slow, steady, silent breathing let her measure time. Was she being paranoid? Perhaps. Perhaps the chaser really was that much of a fool. Or, perhaps... perhaps they had set up a trap right outside her secret room, waiting for her to exit. Such things only worked if the victim wasn't aware of them, or... if it was unavoidable. Perhaps the one seeking her death this time was looking for the secret panel that would grant entry. She sighed. If only she had a clue-- She paused. She let out a breath. She frowned. She attempted to hum. But there was no sound forthcoming-- The silencing spell had extended to this room. Her eyes darted about. Whatever was supposed to happen, whatever they planned, they'd already put it in here! She didn't know how much time she had before-- Something landed on her head. Instinctively she threw it off--wings. Long tail. Two legs, scaly, red crest-- She tried to shut her eyes, but the pair of red glowing pinpricks found her before she could. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't look away. Even as she felt her body transforming, even as her sense of touch faded away, she cursed those who wanted her crown. Well... there was only one thing left to do. With her final breath, she reached out to the very artifact her tormentors sought and activated an ancient enchantment. As she schooled her face into a mask of regal poise, the last thing she ever smelled was the smoke of a sudden blaze. Later, when the library fire was finally cleared, the searchers found a statue that had survived and, with utmost respect, moved it to the plot of land that served as a graveyard, there to serve as a final reminder of a great mare who had been burned to an unrecognizable crisp in the tragic accident. At least.... that's what the history books would claim.