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Prologue: The King's Gambit2,036 words
Chapter 1: Exodus6,120 words
Chapter 2: Landfall4,572 words

Chapter 2: Landfall

Landfall

Luna rubbed at her eyes with a hoof. She had not gotten much sleep, but she and her sister had always spent dawn and dusk together, and habit is hard to break. Luna got out of bed, and stretched each of her legs separately. Next she spread her wings, and quickly set a few ruffled feathers straight. There was more to her morning routine, but first she wanted to see the sun. Normally this was a nightly ritual for her, the last thing she did before retiring, a literal and figurative passing of the guard. Now, though, it was mostly a comfort.

Luna went to the balcony and gazed out on the last vestiges of night. She knew that somewhere out there, Celestia was looking up at the same sky as her, and a smile spread across her face. She felt the last of her spell unwind around her, like a spool running out of thread. Luna looked to the horizon.

Nothing. Strange, it was not like Celestia to be tardy in such matters. Luna waited a few moments more, eyes scanning the horizon. The air was still and cold, and the night did not relinquish itself. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

For a moment she forgot how to breathe, then, as if to make up for it, she began to inhale in rapid, panicked gasps. She had to do something. She knew that during her exile Celestia had controlled both day and night on her own, but she didn’t know how. She never asked Celestia how she had done both, or even how she influenced the sun. Did it even operate in a similar manner to the moon?

She reached out to the sun, which she assumed was past the horizon. She felt nothing. It was as if it wasn’t there—or rather it was there, she knew, but she couldn’t feel it. All she felt was the night lingering around her, lingering without purpose. She tried again, listening for the song of the sun. She knew something was there, but she couldn’t sense anything. It was like trying to read a book without having the eyes to see it—it was there, practically in her hooves, and yet she was helpless. What else was there? What was she missing?

Sweat was beginning to cling to her coat, which in turn felt like ice in the night air. She did her best to ignore it, instead concentrating on the problem before her. She knew that it had to be possible, failure was not an option. If she couldn’t reach the sun, could the moon have likewise shunned her sister during her exile? How did she do it? The night was her domain, not the day. How, then, did she affect it?

An idea occurred to her. Perhaps if she attempted to unmake the night, it might coax out the sun. Luna closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the song of the moon, channeling the energy towards her purpose. She tried willing the night to fade. She could feel the moon respond, though it did not do as she bid. She could feel the power was still there, a huge source of magic waiting to be tapped. She was on the right track. Luna once again focused on the moon, bringing to mind every aspect of it. She heard its song. Rather than using this bond to craft the night, she willed it towards a different end: raising the sun.

She attempted to find the sun again, and once again failed. The magic she drew from the moon began straining against her. She had missed a step. Frantically she searched past the horizon for the sun, but it was all the same nothing. She felt something wet drip down her muzzle and splatter the stone beneath her, breaking her focus. A quick wipe with her fetlock confirmed that it was blood. Luna looked out, not at the sky, but at Equestria. It was but one nation on the face of Equus. It seemed strange to her that her nation—her people were such small, fragile things, when looking at the larger scale—

All at once she realized what she was doing wrong. She was looking for it as though it were analogous of the moon. In truth it was much bigger, and much further away. What she had sensed before, and been unable to find, was in truth but a small fraction of it. She suddenly felt very small.

A sudden sharp pain interrupted her daze. She needed to channel this energy, and now. She closed her eyes and began casting. Crafting the spell was not simple. The spell she used to craft the night was like weaving a tapestry, taking lots of delicate care—by comparison the spell to raise the sun was like forging a chain out of pure will. Luna could feel the magic straining against her as she channeled, causing her muscles to occasionally spasm, and her breathing to come in shallow gasps.

She didn’t open her eyes until the first rays of light hit them. Luna couldn’t help but feel a chill go up her spine as she saw the sun poking its head over the horizon, something about it was different. The light lacked something, perhaps brilliance? Warmth? It failed to give her any comfort, serving instead to reinforce the mounting sensation of dread. If she just raised the sun, that meant...

A strong shiver wracked her body, interrupting the unpleasant line of thought. Luna got up and took stock of herself. She felt as though she had just been through a battle, and she suspected that she probably looked the part as well. Luna stumbled back into her room, and headed towards the bathroom. Unwelcome thoughts returned again, but she ignored them, keeping her focus on simply getting to the shower.

Luna opened the shower stall with her hoof, too tired to use magic, turned on the hot water, and half fell in. After a few moments the hot water began pouring out of the showerhead, and ran down her body, taking away some of the soreness along with with it.

It dawned on her exactly what she had just done, and everything it meant. There was much to do, and time was not on her side.

Celestia looked up at a sun that wasn’t hers, and for the first time in centuries knew fear. She forced herself to look away, not because the sun was hurting her eyes, but because the truth it represented hurt even worse. Instead she looked down at the shard of metal lodged in her chest, right where her left leg met her body. Yes, this, while painful, was a problem that could be solved.

The missile hadn’t pierced deeply enough to reach her heart—her continued breathing was testament to that. She didn’t know, however, how deeply it had pierced. She probed at the wound with her magic.

A bolt of pain coursed through her body, filling her veins with fire and making it impossible to breath for several seconds after. Celestia gave herself a few minutes to recover, the pain eventually subsiding to merely tremendous. The metal was in deep enough that taking it out would risk a lot of blood loss.

Celestia didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to do, and that fact, she realized, cut more deeply than the metal lodged in her chest. She needed to go back. She had to be there for Equestria. How long until they learned of the threat? Equestria was ill prepared for any invasion from the south—

Celestia, with great effort, quieted her mind. It was vital that she focused on the now before worrying about the rest, and she had plenty to worry about now. She needed food, water, shelter, fire, and treatment for her wound. Taking in a deep breath, she looked carefully at her surroundings. She currently sat on the uppermost boughs of a great tree, easily larger than any she had seen before. The trees themselves defied all logical order, seeming to grow helically, spiraling around some invisible force. The air was oddly still, but the sound of creaking could be heard all around, as though the trees themselves were speaking. Because of this, or perhaps due to something else, the entire environment seemed to vibrate on a low frequency, lending a peculiar activity to the air, a thrum that put her on edge. Lifting her gaze skyward, she saw a number of strange floating stones. It was hard to tell how large they were because of the distance, but it was clear that their size varied to some extent. It was quite surreal, actually. The forest seemed virtually untouched and uninhabited except for those strange watchers.

She began to get up, but a ripping pain in her left leg caused her to fall back down. She examined her wound once more, which was seeping more blood that it had previously. Celestia silently chided herself for her foolishness. She would have to be monumentally careful moving forward if she didn’t want to bleed out.

This time she clumsily rose leaning on her left wing, being very careful to move her wounded side as little as possible. Celestia took a brief moment to lament the fact that ponies didn’t typically wear clothes, as she lacked the basic materials to construct a sling.

Carefully she spread her wings wide and took a few tentative beats. No sharp pain. She could fly. She glanced skyward, looking for a cloud. The cloudline seemed oddly close, only perhaps a hundred meters above the trees. Finding the nearest one, Celestia took off and flew in as direct a path as she could manage. She landed on the sparse cumulus as gingerly as she could.

Celestia had never felt comfortable resting on the clouds. Despite the centuries’ passage, she never quite shook the feeling that something as airy as a dream shouldn’t support the weight of a body so burdened by doubt. Luna had always been better with pegasus magic. Shuddering slightly, she looked around once more from her perch. The alien landscape extended out in every direction, with no sign of any body of water for miles. There was an exceptionally large stone, presumably similar to the ones that dotted the landscape, that poked its head above the canopy not far from where she rested. Perhaps it was some sort of building where she could seek refuge. She certainly didn’t want to remain in the canopy when the sun set. With no other leads to go on, she spread her wings once more and took off.

The train ride up Mt. Avalon was long and mercifully uneventful. Twilight had used the time to reread one of her favorite books: Daring Do and the Ebon Talon. Sure, it was mostly just useless fluff, but she had already had to stave off dire circumstances twice before with the advents of Nightmare Moon and Discord—and they didn’t print very many instruction manuals on saving the world, so she had to improvise. Daring would have to do. She chuckled at her wordplay, earning a few odd looks from the other passengers.

“Alrighty, folks! We’ll be arriving at Canterlot terminal in few minutes,” a voice up the aisle hollered.

Twilight glanced over to Spike, who was still sleeping quite soundly despite the announcement. Should she wake him? No, he had earned a few more minutes rest—they had spent all night getting ready for the train ride, and Spike had stayed up well past his bedtime in doing so. He should get as much sleep as he can. She gently got up, making sure not to disturb the sleeping dragon, and began gathering her luggage, and stowing away her book in her saddlebag.

The train lurched underneath Twilight, threatening to topple her, but a quick application of magic prevented misfortune. She nudged Spike. “Wake up, sleepy-head. We’re here.”

Spike stirred and gave Twilight a sour look. “Just a few more minutes? I was dreaming about her.”

“Come on, Casanova, get up.”

Spike groaned, but consented. They got off the train, watching their step where applicable.

“Get your paper! Hot off the presses!” a pony shouted at the top of her lungs. An earth pony was selling copies of The Equestria Daily right outside the terminal. Twilight fished a bit out of her saddlebags and tossed it at her. “Thanks, Miss!” she said without lowering her volume.

Twilight glanced at the headline: Sun Sets on the Day Court: Where is Celestia?

“What do you think it means?” Spike asked from her side.

“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “It’s probably just the press blowing things out of proportion. Sensationalism sells, after all.” Twilight packed the paper into her saddlebag.

The trip from the station to the castle proper was uneventful, and after a fashion Twilight found herself retracing well-known steps around the castle grounds. Whenever Twilight visited, which, she figured, was not nearly enough, Celestia had always let her stay in her old tower-library. While she was still studying in the castle it had been her refuge from the storm of castle politics and petty parties.

She set her luggage down next to the door and inhaled deeply. The smell of old books was a comforting old friend, making her feel instantly at home—the books in Ponyville were too new, they lacked the same character. Everything seemed to be in the same place she left it in before. She was surprised that nopony came looking for one of the many books she had stockpiled here. No, wait. There was a stack of papers and a hoofful of ledgers on the table in the center of the room that weren’t there before.

Twilight approached the table. They were guest lists, existing contracts with local musicians, food orders, and data from previous galas. Twilight marveled briefly at the sheer magnitude of data present, structured so succinctly, all at her hooves. She shuddered, quashing her desire to make a list of the lists present—there would be time for such meta organization later. She glanced around for Spike.

“Spike? Where’d you go?”

“I’m up here,” he said, poking his head over the rails of one of the upper levels. “I was just making sure they didn’t mess with anything. I swear, it’s like nopony knows the Dewdrop Decimal System.”

Twilight giggled. “Well, there’s a reason you’re my number-one assistant, Spike. Sometimes I think you know your way around the library better than I do.”

Spike beamed. “Are you going to get started? I saw how you looked at those lists,” he asked, giving Twilight a knowing wink.

Twilight considered it briefly, but there was something troubling her. “No, I don’t think I will just yet. I’ll get everything sorted out tonight, but right now I’m just happy to stretch my legs. I think I might take a walk,” she said and began moving towards the door again. “Oh, before I head out, Spike, I’d like to send a letter to the princess.”

Spike scrambled back down and located his letter-writing supplies. “We’ll probably need to get some more parchment tomorrow, Twilight. You go through parchment quickly when you’re not the head party planner for an important royal event. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like now that you are.” Spike’s eyes widened dramatically. “It’s going to be the listocolypse.”

“Are you done?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sure. Ready when you are.”

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Twilight dictated, “I hope this letter finds you well. We’ve just arrived in Canterlot, and have received the information you left. We won’t let you down. Hope your trip goes well. Your Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Uh, Twilight? Don’t you think she’ll be a bit busy? With zebras and stuff? You’re not exactly saying anything here,” he said, gesturing to the parchment with a claw.

“It’s a courtesy, Spike, to let her know that we arrived intact and are officially on the job. Besides, there isn’t a train to Zudan, she’ll be walking there. She won’t be busy for a couple days longer.”

“Whatever you say, Twilight.” Spike took a deep breath and exhaled a bright jade flame which consumed the parchment readily.

Twilight trotted to the doors. “Can you take care of the unpacking?” she said, pausing at the door. “When you’re done with that you can get back to can take a nap. I’m sure Dream-Rarity is waiting.”

The travel was not easy, and Celestia found herself frequently stopping to rest on the clouds as she made her way to the large structure. As she approached it, she was able to get a better gauge of its immensity, and indeed the gargantuan stature of the trees themselves. She wouldn’t be surprised if one tree on its own would supply enough wood to construct an entire town. The monolith, though, dwarfed the trees, rising as tall Mt. Avalon. Everything about the place made her feel like a little pony in a big world.

Her estimation that such a structure would have a point of access was vindicated when she found an aperture a short distance above the treeline. With as much care as she could, she landed and gazed into the the structure. The entry chamber was austere in the extreme, being barren except for a multitude of passages that poked off in every which way, some going straight, others ascending or descending. One passage stood out from the rest, having a number of floating motes of light illuminating the passage down to a bend further in.

Celestia glanced behind her at the setting sun. It had taken her a surprisingly long time to reach the structure. She didn’t have time to find a more suitable shelter before the sun set, and she didn’t want to remain in the forest after dark.

Instead she turned to try her luck with the lit passage. As she ventured deeper, Celestia prodded the lights with a bit of magic. Whatever had left them clearly knew their way around spellcraft, and while she wasn’t foolish enough to immediately consider them an ally, she knew that her wound needed treatment, and that she could only afford so much isolation.

Without the sky to act as timekeeper, time quickly lost meaning. It could have been minutes, or hours, Celestia didn’t know which. The path seemed without end, and she found herself wondering if the lights were a trap, meant to lure an unsuspecting traveler to their doom—perhaps by a bandit, waiting to jump any traveler foolish enough to enter, or a false-path meant to trap those who didn’t know their way. The sound of hoofbeats echoed around her, and she wondered who or what might have left the floating motes, and if they were connected with the odd floating monuments that dotted the landscape. So many questions.

Celestia’s pace began to slow noticeably, and the air grew damp and cold. She considered turning around and retracing her steps back to the central chamber when she heard a dull *pop*. A scroll appeared in front of her, and she reflexively grasped it with her magic. She continued walking numbly as she read the note, careful not to strain her wounded side. The letter was from Twilight. It was mostly just a courtesy letter, letting her know that she had made it to Canterlot intact and was set to work on the Gala, along with well wishes for her journey. A dozen conflicting thoughts and feelings ran through her head. She thought of Twilight, her faithful student, stepping up and taking responsibility; of Luna, finally recovering from her millennial imprisonment; and of Equestria, potentially under assault by an unknown threat. That was the worst part, Celestia thought, that her country—her people were in danger, and there was nothing she could do to help them—

Celestia felt the ground beneath her tremble, and the air crackled with energy. It was then that she then noticed the runes carved into the floor—she had been too absorbed in thought to see them before. The temperature in the passage plummeted, going from cold to frigid in moments. The last thing she felt was the ice forming around her, encasing her from hoof to horn.

As Twilight left the tower, she recalled the headline from the paper. Sun Sets on the Day Court: Where is Celestia? Twilight believed earnestly that it was nothing more than journalistic sensationalism, but if it even got to the point where they could write such a thing, the Day Court session probably did not go smoothly. She wanted to see how Luna was holding up.

She had no idea of where to look. Though, after slinging questions at some of the hapless staff, she learned of a few of Luna’s preferred haunts. First place to look would be her chambers.

Twilight cursed the trek up the stairs. “Note to self: Investigate spells to obviate stairs.” At the tower summit Twilight found the door ajar. Tentatively she entered the room and then froze. Luna’s chambers were in shambles, bedding was strewn upon the floor, and a stiff breeze flew in from the open balcony. The princess herself was nowhere to be seen.

Twilight left the scene with thoughts hurtling through her head at an alarming rate. Something was certainly wrong, if the state of Luna’s room was of any indication. Oh what could it be? What could have happened? A dozen equally likely scenarios occurred to her. It could have been a temporal anomaly. Or a spurned lover returning for vengeance. Or perhaps ninjas! It was probably ninjas. Or maybe a spurned lover who was also a ninja. That seemed likely—

Crack

Twilight ran into a door. It was a rather thick door. If the pain she felt at the base of her horn was of any indication, it was at least three inches thick, but less than five. She looked up and read the plaque nailed to it. Royal Library. One of the guards had mentioned that he frequently would see a light coming from the royal library on his nightly patrols.

Tentatively, she opened the door. Books. Floor to ceiling, books coated the walls. This was her favorite spot in the castle. And yet she paused. There was an oppressive stillness to the room. Despite how dearly she loved the castle library, she never felt right entering. It was as though it were too perfect. As if her intrusion would break the spell, and that something would be forever lost.

Twilight took a deep breath and entered. It was as pristine and magical as she remembered it, almost as if nopony had entered the place in years. She only allowed herself a moment to bask in the bookish glory, however. Then she went checking between the bookshelves for the errant princess. As she traversed the room, her hoofbeats echoed loudly through the still air. There was no sign of— Something strange caught Twilight’s attention. One of the bookshelves was practically empty. She looked at the numbers on the adjacent shelves. All of the missing books were history books. Zudanese history books, actually. The only thing of note in the room was the lack of something, so Twilight decided to look elsewhere. As she left she gave the room one last long look.

The only other lead she had came from the kitchen staff. They had said to check the castle observatory. And as she approached, it became evident that somepony was up there. There was the sound of hoofsteps, and every few moments she would hear a thump.

“Uh, hello?” Twilight called.

There was no response, save the continued sound of activity. Twilight entered. The observatory was rather small and cramped, but Luna had apparently made sure to make use of every last square inch of space. The one table in the center of the room was covered in books and scrolls, as were the chairs, and even the vast majority of the floor. The telescope on the far end of the room was being used as a makeshift scrollrack, and Luna herself was pacing around the room, her path marking perhaps the only space in the room bereft of literature. Around her head circled a crown of books and scrolls.

“Princess Luna!” Twilight cried from the entryway. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I—”

Luna didn’t seem to notice her. She continued tracing her winding path around the room.

Twilight took a step and withdrew when she realized she was literally trampling the written word. She decided instead to try yelling again. “Luna!”

It had the desired effect. Luna’s step faltered and she looked from behind a book. “Twilight? What are you doing here?”

Twilight scanned the room. There was no way to get nearer the princess without risking helpless literature. Luna must have noticed her hesitate because she quickly gathered most of the papers from the floor with a sweep of magic. The path thus clear, Twilight approached the Princess of the Night.

“I-uh...” Now that she had found her, Twilight didn’t know what to say. “How are things around the castle? Now that Celestia isn’t here?”

Luna’s reaction was as strong as it was inscrutable. “It is busy. But tell me, why are you in Canterlot? I was not made aware of any impending visits.”

“The princess asked me to help plan for the Gala—I’m really good at planning things!”

“Oh, is that correct?” Luna’s voice seemed strained, and she turned her attention once more to one of the books orbiting her head. “I am afraid this is perhaps not the best time, Twilight Sparkle. Return home now.”

Twilight was no expert on immortal alicorns, but she could tell something was wrong. “Does this have to do with the Day Court? I’m certain it couldn’t have been that bad,” Twilight said, flinching as she did. “Why don’t we talk about it?”

“I care not if the press wish to scandalize my correct priorities, Twilight,” she responded. “Now if you’ll pardon me, there is still much planning left to be done.”

“Oh, you’re planning? That’s what I was sent here to help with! Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Twilight eagerly began scanning the documents on the table. Maps of... the Everfree? And Zudan? “Why do you have these maps out, Luna?”

“Twilight—”

“And what’s with these... intelligence reports? I-I don’t understand. I thought we were planning a party?”

Luna’s face darkened and contorted. Small gusts of wind whipped around her, picking up loose paper and books alike as she shouted, “Twilight Sparkle! Celestia is dead, and Equestria goes to war!”

Twilight felt the ground fall out from under her, and the world dissolved to white.