//------------------------------// // 26. The Mourning Sun // Story: The Age of Wings and Steel // by DSNesmith //------------------------------// Celestia woke, and for a moment, life was sweet. Pale moonlight filtered into her chamber, the usual sign that night was coming to an end. She threw aside her blanket, stretching her legs above her head and yawning. The Princess rolled out of her bed, standing up and shaking her head. Her mane fell loosely around her neck, resuming its ceaseless flow. Celestia smiled as she began to look forward to raising the sun for the day. Then she remembered. Celerity. Her legs failed her, and the Princess sat heavily on her bed. Her scout’s message scroll was still lying on the floor where it had landed after she’d thrown it. She didn’t need to read it again. The words were already burned into her memory for all eternity. Trellow has fallen. The griffons are moving north. The Army of Whitetail has broken and fled. There were few survivors. I regret to tell you that the Duchess was not among them. The Princess waited, but the tears did not come. She supposed she had none left, after last night. She stood again and lit her horn, listlessly raising her royal tiara from its place on her dresser. It nestled gently over her head, settling down into its proper place. Her ceremonial peytral rested lightly around her neck, the amethyst set at the front gleaming in the moonlight. She slid on her gilded horseshoes, feeling her hooves lock comfortably into the familiar metal. Her routine was unchanged. Yet nothing was the same. She left her room, beginning the journey to the top of the tower. As she walked the stairs, the memories flowed unbidden to her thoughts. “Auntie, it’s five in the morning.” The little unicorn yawned. Celestia smiled down at her. “Are we starting already? I don’t wanna study this early.” “Come on, Celerity. You’re getting a treat this morning. Would you like to help me raise the sun?” That had the intended effect. The white foal practically leapt out of bed. “Really?” “Really. Come on, go clean up. We can’t start the morning with your mane looking like that.” The filly ran off into her chamber’s washroom. The Princess smiled after her, enjoying Celerity’s excitement. They spent hours every day talking about politics and courtly intrigues; it wasn’t healthy for a young filly to get so caught up in study that she forgot to live. Celestia looked forward to every opportunity to give her student the chance for a little fun. Celerity raced back out, her mane hastily combed and bound. She bounced up and down, her face wide with happiness. “Can we go now?” “Don’t run too fast up the stairs. We’ve got to climb quite a few of them.” The little filly took off through the door, galloping toward the tower steps. Celestia chuckled to herself. “Ah, youth.” As she placed her hooves on the steps above, Celestia had never felt older. Celerity’s little voice still echoed around her. She had the horrible feeling that this was going to be worse than Sunny Sprinkle’s death, and that had haunted her for a decade. In times like these, immortality was more a curse than a blessing. Celestia had long ago become accustomed to dealing with her grief as those around her passed on, but losing a student was never easy. And Celerity was more than a student. “Auntie, Auntie! Come on, hurry up! We’re going to be late for morning!” Celerity raced up ahead. Celestia followed, climbing the steps at a rather more sedate pace. She restrained herself from calling out to Celerity to be careful on the stairs. The young unicorn was nearly old enough to have her cutie mark; she certainly didn’t need any unnecessary mothering from her mentor. Yet… with her mother long gone and her father so recently deceased, who else was there? She tried to turn her thoughts away from the young Celerity, but the other news was hardly encouraging. The griffons had broken through into Whitetail, and no force remained ready to fight them. They would spread north like a plague of locusts. Blueblood’s forces mobilized to the west, and Easthill had fallen already to Whitetail. Her entire guard retinue had gone south to the disastrous battle of Trellow, and it seemed that few, if any, would return. The citizens of Canterlot lived in fear, dreading what every new day would bring. She reached the door at the top of the steps at last, pausing as she pushed it open. “Wow!” Celerity spun around on the platform, looking around. “You can see the whole city from here!” “Mind the edges,” said the Princess. “There aren’t any railings.” “Yeah, I guess you can fly, can’t you.” The filly poked her head over the side, looking down at the castle below. She quickly pulled back. “Are you ready, Celerity?” “Yes, Auntie.” The unicorn beamed up at her. Celestia took her place in the center of the platform, looking up at the moon. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” “I guess. I’ve never really looked at it that often.” Celestia’s smile grew sad. “Few do.” She stared up at the great shadow of the mare that had blemished the moon’s surface for the last three hundred years. “Few ever have.” “Well most ponies are asleep while the moon is up. How would anypony look at the moon while they were asleep?” “Tell me, Celerity, do you like the night?” Celerity shrugged. “Not nearly as much as the day, Auntie. I like your sun.” Celestia winced. Her sister had been right. Luna was always right. Had she spoken the truth at the end, too? Was it really Celestia’s fault? “Celerity, do you remember who raised the moon before I did?” “Nightmare Moon, Auntie. She used to rule the night. Then one day you beat her and banished her, and you’ve been doing the moon ever since. Everypony knows that.” “No. Not Nightmare Moon. My sister, Luna.” Celestia dragged her hooves, placing herself at the center of the platform. The moon looked the same as it had that morning, so long ago, full and bright and beautiful. She raised her head and dipped into the flow of the magic. “Are you going to raise the sun now?” Celerity trembled with excitement. Her mentor nodded, and her horn began to glow. Celerity had always wondered what this looked like. Celestia closed her eyes as her horn’s light began to grow. The world grew dim around her, the trees and mountains fading into the background. The millions of creatures of the world, ponies, griffons, and dragons alike, all shrank away into nothingness. The Earth became tiny, a little blue marble in a vast dark void. All the lives and struggles of its children melted away as she rose above, reaching for the sun. Celerity squinted at the Princess. The light from her horn was brighter than the full moon now. She had spread her wings fully, craning her neck to the sky. Celestia touched the surface of the sun. A vast sphere of light and heat, more intense than dragonfire, it waited beyond the horizon for her call. She caressed it like a lover, feeling the warmth tickle her face. The young filly shielded her eyes with a hoof as the light grew brighter. The Princess’s eyes snapped open, her pupils lost in blazing white. Celerity felt her jaw hang slack. Celestia reached deeper into the sun, through the roiling flames. She found its heartbeat, the pulse of the star as it expanded and contracted in the depths of the void. She listened to the rhythm, feeling her own heart match the tempo. She pushed further, the sun wrapping around her in a fiery embrace. At last she reached the center. The Princess gasped, and her horn blazed. Celerity could no longer look, turning away. Her whole world had turned to light, even her shadow burned away by the fires of Celestia’s magic. The Princess leapt up from the platform, her wings outstretched. The very air seemed to hold its breath. Suddenly the light pulsed, and Celerity felt the wave of magic roll over her. It was like standing in an inferno, bathing in the shining blaze of the sun. The heat of the magic rolled over the platform, enveloping her. She trembled. Slowly, the brilliance faded, and she opened her eyes again. Princess Celestia was standing in the center of the platform once more, her horn dimmed and her eyes no longer alight. But the Princess was radiant, her skin still glowing with the power of the sun. From the distant east, the sun’s first rays peeked over the horizon. Celestia looked down at her young student, still flushed with solar majesty. She grinned. “Good morning, Celerity.” The little filly was speechless for a moment. “That was incredible, Auntie!” She rushed forward to the Princess as the aura of light faded. She wrapped her hooves around Celestia’s leg. “But kind of scary.” “Don’t worry, Celerity. You’re safe as long as I’m around.” And now she was gone. Celestia stared at the sun as it slowly rose. She still felt the ecstasy of the magic, but it seemed to dissolve like rainwater. The sun’s light seemed pale and muted, bringing no warmth with it. She turned abruptly, and left the platform. The specter of the tiny unicorn haunted her steps, still bubbling with excitement. It hurt more deeply than she could express. But worse than the pain of her loss was the knowledge that it would happen again, and again, and again, for as long as she lived. Forever. She could not dwell. She and Luna had long ago realized that was the way to madness. She had no time to mourn. She needed to take action, to do something to save her kingdom. And now that the griffons had broken into the south, only one option remained to her. She closed her eyes and seized the magic. There was a blinding flash, and the Princess was gone. * * * Her hoofsteps echoed quietly from the walls, the only sound these ruins had heard in centuries. Broken pillars littered the floor, overgrown with vines. The hard stone was weathered and chipped from hundreds of years’ disuse. The old tapestries had long rotted away, leaving only a few fibers hanging from the walls. Shattered glass still glittered in the dawn’s light. Few dared tread the halls of Lunaria, so long after the fall of its mistress. In the center of the Everfree Forest, the Moon City lay quietly, untouched. The dead city was cursed, they said. The spirit of Nightmare Moon still wandered the ruins, looking for victims. Celestia was not afraid. She grown used to the ghost of her sister long ago. The room she looked for lay deep in the heart of the city, once the seat of power in the south, from a time when she and Luna had ruled together. It all seemed so long ago, now. Perhaps the distant past was best left forgotten. Memories could be painful. She came at last to the chamber she sought. Like the rest of the city, it was in a state of advanced disrepair. Plants had crept inside through broken windows, the trailing vines wrapping around the pillars of the room like snakes. It contained no decorations, no ornaments, merely a single statue in the center of the room. It was an ungainly looking thing, covered with moss and leaves. Six arms extended from its core, each supporting a small sphere. The Elements of Harmony had only been used twice before. The power within them had cast down gods of chaos and darkness, imprisoned them in stone and moon, and saved the world. They were Equestria’s last defense against those that would do her harm. The unassuming spheres contained power greater than Celestia herself posessed, power that she feared to harness even now. But she had no choice. Her horn lit as she reached out to the Elements. The spheres glowed in response, welcoming the return of their wielder. As she called to each in turn, the spheres began to emit the light of their magic. Honesty. The Element’s light orange aura glimmered. Kindness. Soft pink lit her face. Laughter. The blue glow warmed her. Generosity. Loyalty. Deep violet and red joined the spectrum. And… Magic. The final sphere remained dark, the magenta light of its aura nowhere to be seen. Celestia called to it again, gently probing it with magic. The Element sat quietly, unresponsive. She released her hold. The other auras faded, the Elements once again assuming their stony vigil. Celestia stared at the final Element, aghast. Why was it not answering her summons? What had happened? Was there something wrong with the Element? Or was there something wrong with her? A quiet voice whispered the answer inside her, and Celestia turned away. She stamped a hoof in denial, refusing to believe it. “No.” She shook her head defiantly. “It’s not true.” You know it is. You cannot use the element of friendship, Celestia. You have none left. You are as you will always be: alone.