• Published 24th Dec 2013
  • 923 Views, 33 Comments

Daughter of the Night - Word Wizard



Luna's illegitimate daughter grows up under the care of Twilight, unknowing of her past. But as she grows, it becomes clear: There is more to this than meets the eye. Is her life merely but a pawn?

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Chapter 3

Daughter of the Night

Chapter Three

Homecoming
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s pretty much it,” Twilight explained. The morning had dragged on, leaving afternoon in its wake. Nopony had eaten, nopony had even left the room. All were rivited to Twilight’s tale.

“Wow,” Applejack remarked, casually throwing her hat in the air. “I never knew Luna was such an… intro thingy mabober.”

“Vert. Introvert,” Twilight sighed.

“Yeah, that,” Applejack said, catching the hat again. “So you never actually talked to her?”

“Nope,” Twilight said, hoping desperately the lie was not visible on her face. “Not a word. Shame really, could have been interesting.”

“That just proves us right,” Rarity stated proudly, “Luna does not want to be disturbed so... she is obviously guilty!”

“Uh, what?” Rainbow was sitting now, the whole hovering business getting a little old. “I mean, I’m no egghead but I know when ponies don’t make sense. But Luna really is the conniving schmuck that Nightmare Moon was, but without the whole ‘Nightmare’ part.”

“I wouldn’t say conniving,” Fluttershy said quietly, “I think she just wanted to be left alone. What’s the shame in that?”

“It’s just weird!” Pinkie exclaimed. She took in a deep breath of air, bellowing out her chest theatrically. “I mean, nopony would want to be left alone, right? I mean, especially when somepony fun like Twilight’s knocking and you get the 'Never-know-if-they-want-a-party' feeling which is probably all ‘yeah, she wants a party’ so I open the door!

“I mean, who wouldn’t?” She cocked her head to the side in curiousity. The room was dead quiet for several seconds afterwards.

“Right, well.” Twilight started to sweat again. Starlight was waking up; she could feel it. “I’m sure you have all sorts of things to do, I can’t go around keeping you from them!”

“Well actually I-” Rarity started, but soon found herself on the front lawn. Everypony else was there too, slightly dazed by the surprise landing.

“What’s the big idea?” Rainbow asked, indignantly hovering above Twilight.

“Just making your trip easier!” Twilight chattered, gaining the slightly insane quality she was famed for in times of stress. “Now, I’m sure you have to do something, so off you go! Bye girls!”

With a plume of magic, the librarian disappeared, leaving the others staring, wide eyed, at her former location.

“What’s got into her?” Applejack said, “It’s like cabin fever, but she ain’t been hangin’ around in cabins, now has she?”

“No!” Spike recoiled under the farm pony’s stare. “I mean, no. We never go on vacation. Always too busy…”

“I’ll go see what’s going on,” Spike started to walk towards the door, sensing hostility towards his grumbling monologue. It was true they never went on vacations. Aside from the trips to and from Canterlot and the Crystal Empire, Spike never got on the train.

A trip for pure leisure never popped up, or when it did something else took precedence. Spike plodded his way towards the door, grumbling something about beaches and sunscreen. He turned the handle, expecting the door to either open slowly or very, very quickly.

“Here we go,” he muttered. Opening the library door was always a surprise.

It didn’t.

Nothing happened. The door was immobile as the door handle squeaked up and down in Spike’s hands, disconnected and lifeless. He was vexed; the library never locked its doors during the week.

“Come to think of it,” Spike said, continuing to try the unyielding door. “It is a weekend. But Twi never locks it, not during the day. And at least usually when I’m inside.”

The wind blew past him, whistling smugly in his ear as he fumbled for the key. It wasn’t under the rock, it wasn’t in his hand… It wasn’t much of anywhere, as far as Spike could figure out.

“TWILIGHT!” Spike shouted. “LET ME IN WILLYA?”

Silence. The wind whistled again, plucking Spike’s nerves like a novel harpsichordist. And just like any harpsichord, Spike did not appreciate it. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking down the path. “I’ll just go forge my own key. Or grow into a big dragon and burn down the door. Or SOMETHING.”

Off he walked, into the midafternoon sun. Not caring where he went, not minding what got in his way. Just walking.

-----------

“Oh,” Twilight said, looking up from her work. “Looks like somepony forgot to open the door!”

She gently unhitched the latch in a quick burst of purple magic. Sheepishly, she turned back to her work. She was cooking lunch, or dinner at this point, for three.

Smoke billowed from the kitchen, sticking to the ceiling like tar. Steam shot out of the tea pot with incredible vigor, slamming into the ceiling like a crazed dog trying to escape. In the midst of this, Twilight coughed.

“Goodness,” she gagged, “now I know why Spike’s here.”

Magic twisted this way and that, opening jars, turning off burners, mixing bowls. The smoke wafted upstairs, wafting out the window in a thick black stream.

“Spike!” Twilight shouted, dousing a flaming pot with salt. “Spike!” No response met her ears. “That’s strange,” she commented, looking through the thick black haze to the door. “He hardly ever goes off without at least telling me.”

“Aye!” the voice cut through the smoke like a sharpened blade. “Come on in boys, got a bit a fire here!”

Sounds of stomping hooves filled the library. Squinting through the fog, Twilight saw the outlines of several stallions hurrying around in the main room. Hoses were being dragged in and one wore a gasmask.

“Hello?” Twilight asked tenuously through the black haze.

“A survivor!” the sharp voice cried, “Hold on las, we’re comin’!”

“What?” Twilight threw baking powder on the last of the fires and shifted the fog with her magic. An elderly white earth pony was plodding toward her with a determined face. He wore a red helmet, and a pin in the shape of an axe on his spindly brown mane.

“Stay calm!” he shouted over the din of an imaginary fire. “Just stay still!”

“Who exactly-”

“Stay calm!”

“But-”

“STAY CALM.”

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Twilight shouted, fed up with the stallion’s constant reassurances. He stopped mid-step, blinking in surprise. “Thank you. Now what are you doing in the Ponyville Library?”

“Um.” The elderly stallion looked sheepishly at the floor. “Just thought we’d put out the fire miss.”

“So you’re the fire department are you?” Twilight inquired skeptically.

“Yes ma’am,” the stallion turned to the other members of his party. “Me and these two.”

Two slightly younger stallions stood in the main room of the library, confused. Twilight was unimpressed. “Uh huh,” she said staunchly, “why exactly did you come over here for a kitchen fire?”

“Ah well, miss,” the stallion took off his hat and twitched it nervously. “Very tricky are kitchen fires. Can bring a whole place down, see. We haven’t had a fire in years, thought we’d bring out all the equipment. Haven’t used it for decades.”

“Oh,” Twilight raised an eyebrow, “So is that why you were going to hose down my entire library?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” the stallion said, wilting under Twilight’s glare. “We better get going then, busy stuff an' all.”

“I’m sure,” Twilight rolled her eyes as the stallions began to leave with impressive haste. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Blazing Beam, ma’am,” the white stallion replied, “always ready to protect *cough* Ponyville in times of need. That’s us…”

Twilight sighed as she turned back to the kitchen. The door slammed shut behind the fire department, leaving a pleasant silence in its wake. “Now,” she said, overlooking the wrecked kitchen, “to resurrect supper.”

------------

Starlight stared at the ceiling. The sun hung low in the sky, shadowing the library with its indistinct light. The little black alicorn looked at the ceiling with intent curiousity. Her coat was a mix of blue and black, the former prevailing. Her horn had grown several inches from yesterday, amounting to much more than a stub.

She stretched her wings as she stared, fascinated by the room. Every little grain of wood and pulp, of timber and stone, fell under her intent gaze. This was life. This was new.

A mouse, a much rued creature, hopped up on the bed next to the alicorn. Mice were not common in the library, often being subjected to eviction upon discovery. They ate paper, and wrinkled and chewed anything within paw reach.

But Starlight looked down on the rodent with wondrous curiosity. Her wide eyes were alight with interest as she watched the nervous animal creep closer.

“What are you?” she asked finally. So softly that the mouse merely stood up, straining his ears for the sound. “What are you?” she asked, slightly firmer.

The mouse jumped in surprise, startled by the sudden noise. “Sqeak!” he exclaimed, jumping off the bed and rushing to his hole. Starlight’s eyes were even wider than the mouse’s.

“Where do you live?” she peeked off the bed with intent curiosity. She scanned the room, even the ceiling for a home. She found none, and so began to creep around the ground. “Here furry thing!” she called softly, “Starlight doesn’t want to hurt you. Whatever you are.”

She crawled around the room, poking her nose in every nook and cranny, pushing boxes out of the way to get a clearer view. The mouse watched, bemused, from his hole. His whiskers twitched as his eyes followed Starlight’s searching movements.

“Thingy!” she called finally, pushing one last box away from the baseboard. “There you are!”

“Squeek!” the mouse cried, retreating into its abode with adept swiftness. “Squeek squeak. Squeek SQUEEK.” He added, firmly glaring at the curious filly.

“That is so cute!” Starlight commented.

“Starlight?” Twilight's voice called up the stairs. Starlight's ear cocked, turning toward the sound. “I've got dinner!”

“Uh, what's dinner?” Starlight asked, walking towards the door. The mouse took this moment to dive deeper into his lair, looking forward to a quiet evening, minus the curious fillies.

“Oh Starlight,” Twilight chuckled, pushing the door to the bedroom open with a purple glow. “I forget how new you are,” she set a silver tray down gently on the bedside table, lighting a candle in another glow of magic. “Dinner is a meal at the end of the day.”

“Oh,” Starlight said, thinking about her stomach. It grumbled, stating its disposition in this conversation very clearly. “What's for... dinner?”

“Crackers and soup,” Twilight levitated a steaming bowl off the tray, holding it very carefully in the ethereal force. She had originally planned a much larger, fancier meal,but in the end, as with most cooking, expectations had lowered to meet the possible product. “Taste good, I think.”

She eyed the soup with some suspicion, questioning its current state of 'done' or 'overdone'ness. It gurgled indifferently in response as it touched down softly next to Starlight. She looked at with wide, curious eyes.

Steam twisted upward, distorting the soup’s view in the fillies starstruck eyes. “That looks… Wonderful,” Starlight said, agast. Twilight chuckled as she took her own soup in her hooves, sitting down on the bed next to the little black alicorn.

“It sure is,” Twilight said, softly blowing on the steaming bowl, “There’s even more, when you get out there.”

“Out,” Starlight looked thoughtful, “That’s ‘out’ as in not ‘in’?”

“That’s the one,” Twilight sipped a little bit of the frothing red broth off the top. It barreled down her throat like a large, boiling, cascade. “We can go for a little walk tomorrow,” Twilight said, watching Starlight crunch down a cracker. “And I’m sure I can give you some magic lessons.”

“Magic? Lessons?” Starlight’s face lit up, “Oh, yes yes!”

“Filly after my own heart,” Twilight playfully rubbed Starlight’s purple mane. She shied away from the hoof, but quickly joined in the game with her own. Happy laughter filled the room as the two engaged in playful joy.

--------

Night slunk into the town, shadows growing to full-fledged darkness. Torches and firefly lanterns flickered gracefully in the windows, their deep yellow light pouring into the street below. Ponies began their nighttime routines, locking doors and lighting fires.

The Evening Watch started to patrol, not so much for crime prevention as municipal tasks. They lit the street lamps and ensured all was well throughout the evening.

Trottingham had long since disbanded the Night Watch, a band of ponies that would guard the town through the night. It was too peaceful, too undisturbed. As a result, the streets were empty in the night, their inky blackness undisturbed by the tromping of hooves.

Sterling Silver had work to be done. He settled down at the work table, lumps of molten hot silver lay out in front of him. Only occasionally did he glance up from his work, viewing the prints fastened on the wall affront him.

The banging of the small hammer was music to his ears; the smith’s delight. A small dagger began to emerge from the metal, glowing with heat. The hammer raised again, held in the orange glow of Sterling’s levitation, and began its rapid descent downwards.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

The hammer missed its mark, slamming into the would be handle of the dagger with incredible force. The handle was flattened to a thin sheet.

Sterling looked at the door, screaming with frustration. “Whoever it is,” he muttered, walking towards it with an angry glower. “Why do they have to call at this time of night?”

He pushed it open, then promptly leapt backwards. Twilight Sparkle smiled as she looked in.

“Hello!” she said cheerfully, trotting inside. Sterling Silver stood, dumbstruck.

“Good evening, Miss Sparkle,” he regained his business-like composure only by sheer force of will. “May I ask why you are calling so… late?”

“Just wanted a necklace,” Twilight said, examining the shelves of housed silver goods. “I hear you make some of the most enchantable products in Equestria.”

Sterling blushed. “That’s what they say, miss,” he looked around desperately, throwing the door to his work room shut. Nopony must see what lay behind that door.

“Do you have something small,” Twilight continued, turning a small turnstyle in her magic and exaimening the contents. “Maybe something that could fit a filly, perhaps?”

“Oh yes,” Sterling said, quickly glancing around the room for any more evidence of his membership to The Fellowship. “They would be right over there,” he pointed a hoof to a small corner of the shop. Tiny bracelets and necklaces hung by racks, with a sign over it that clearly read: Foal’s Section

“Thank you very much,” Twilight said, walking over to the corner and examining the products. “How much can this hold?” she asked, grasping a medium sized silver beaded necklace in her levitation.

“Quite a bit,” Sterling said, examining the product. “In fact, that’s one of the highest magic capacity products in that section.”

“That will do nicely,” Twilight said warmly. She trotted over to the counter, which Sterling quickly arranged himself behind.

“Will that be all, miss?” he asked, opening a glistening silver cashbox.

“It certainly will be,” Twilight pulled a small bits pouch out of the air beside her.

“Two thousand bits,” Sterling said nonchalantly. His products were the finest, and price reflected quality.

“Here you go,” Twilight said, completely unfazed by the price. A small stack of golden coins floated over the counter, landing with a clink in front of the dumbstruck Sterling Silver.

“Wait,” he said slowly, examining the money, “You live in Ponyville, correct?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, tucking the necklace safely into her saddlebags.

“And you came twenty miles to Trottingham,” Sterling continued. Twilight nodded. “With no provisions or visible transport.”

“Twenty miles isn’t all that far,” Twilight said, starting to walk out the door. “Actually, it’s quite small once you look at the grand scheme of things. And that distance doesn’t make any difference at all when teleporting.”

“But-“

“Thank you very much for your services!” Twilight said cheerfully, disappearing into the night. A purple flash of light shot through the window for only a second; and she was nowhere to be seen.

“Restless will not like to hear about this.” Sterling sighed and slowly trudged back to his work room, where he began on the dagger anew.

---------

Sharp rays of sunlight peaked over the mountains, warming the ground with its constant glare. Canterlot was quiet that morning… Very quiet. Windows were stark, nothing but curtain showing through their panes.

The palace was deathly silent. Servants waited expectantly in their quarters. Chefs prepared meals, slowly and sullenly moving among the steaming pots. The guard went about the duties in dutiful silence. So much activity, yet so little life.

Celestia lay in her bed, tossing and turning with anxiety. She slept restlessly, worries nagging her every thought. It all seemed so… Vivid. And yet she prayed it was a merely a nightmare, even when she knew better.

Finally, the saving light of morning awoke her from the torturous slumber. Her eyes flickered open on the first light of morning, and set about determining reality. She sat up in bed, glancing from one side of the dimly lit quarters to the other.

“A dream?” she pondered, slipping out of the velvet sheets. A quick burst of yellow magic casted the drapes to the sides, revealing the morning’s true glory to her. Light flared into the room as she jumped back from the sight.

It wasn’t the light that she was shocked by… The balcony was. It was placid, as most marble is, but a section of the Hallowed Fence was ripped from its position, torn from the mortar that kept it in place. The rest was charred, as though it had been through a fire.

Celestia stepped out warily onto the cold marble balcony, examining the damage with a careful air. Her mane glowed in the sunlight as she scrutinized the Hallowed Fence.

The Hallowed Fence was put in the day the castle was built. It was neither oak nor pine, but a fine glowing wood from the royal Sisters’ homeland. Vux, it was called. Vuxian wood holds not only a property of illumination, but that of magic. It assisted in raising the sun and moon, giving amplification to the Sisters’ obscene power.

Right now it was charred and black, crumbling into a fine black powder. Celestia walked back inside, dumbstruck. She rang the bell for a servant, instantly requesting a nice warm kettle of tea. The speaking tube ascended back into the ceiling, echoing her requests ever so softly.

She turned back to her room, staring at the singed carpet with brimming eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek as she looked on.

“How could you be so… Careless with your actions?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Stop LYING!”

The voice of her sister stuck in Celestia’s head, ringing through her mind. She remembered pain, anger, disappointment as she pawed at the singed ground. One thousand years ago, she felt this kind of remorse. The birth of Nightmare Moon was the end of her sister, until merely last year she was banished under Celestia’s own actions.

She was disappointed in Luna then, too. But this was… different. At least in Nightmare Moon’s case Celestia had justification in the safety of her subjects; but now her sister’s exile seemed frivolous.

“Ah, Celestia,” Cadence’s voice broke the sun princess’s internal monologue. Celestia turned, facing the pink alicorn with new sympathy. “Feeling better?”

“I am,” Celestia said coolly. It was the first time in days she had talked without bursting into tears. It felt wonderful.

Cadence smiled. “Good,” she said, taking a seat on the couch. Celestia joined her, solemnly pouring a cup of tea from the newly arriving kettle.

“How did the…” Celestia stopped. Oh, she thought, that’s how.

“What?” Cadence nabbed a cup of frothing tea in her pink glow, raised it to her lips, and began slowly sipping on it. One eyebrow was raised in inquiry.

“The sun,” Celestia continued, “How did-”

“Me,” Cadence’s eyes were firm, “I raised the sun and set the moon. You never said I could do it. I can.”

“Oh,” Celestia said sheepishly, “I just wanted you to… discover it yourself.”

“Very well,” Cadence set the cup down. It clinked gently as it tapped the silver tray; she gave her aunt a very severe look. “Any new feelings on yesterday?”

“No,” Celestia said firmly. Even though she was torn on the subject inside, the world mustn't know that; it must simply know that she was ashamed of her sister’s actions. Faust only knows what could happen if word got out otherwise.

Cadence sighed. “In the past twelve hours,” she said languidly, “I have dealt with two riots, five protests, and six peddling sales ponies selling birth control items. This is widespread, Celestia, this is not only Canterlot; I’ve been getting angry letters from all over, many speaking of ‘revolt’. No, your sister’s actions have put us in a situation, but that doesn’t mean you have to agree with the populace.

“I have, for the most part, dismissed the letters as trash. One, though, carried a curse. A very, very nasty curse, if I do say so myself. I had the good fortune not to open it, but Silver Platter is currently in the intensive care unit of the hospital, clinging on to life and sanity by shreds.

“The populace hates you, it hates us, Celestia,” Cadence sighed, rubbing her mane back with a hoof. “It may pass; but the severity of the actions is escalating, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t mean you must hate your sister merely to save face. Let’s be honest: there isn’t much face left to save.”

“To be quite frank,” Celestia said, somewhat sheepishly, “I don’t know what got into me. It was like… the rage took a form of its own. It robbed me of my senses and replaced them with white rage.

“I guess this is what Nightmare Moon must have felt like. It’s living torture to be a soul inside a body overcome with anger, it really is.” Celestia looked at the table, unable to meet Cadence’s eyes. “But now the damage is done. I can’t go back. I must cling to what opinions I set for myself; that means maintaining anger towards my sister.”

Cadence nodded solemnly.

“Anger is a powerful force,” she said, sipping the last of her tea. “But love triumphs over it. Whenever you wish to destroy Luna, remember your love for her. Your foalhoods. Playing happily together, ruling the kingdom in peace a prosperity. I know you love her. Don’t let anger get in the way. We can fix this, but you must admit your true feelings.”

“Yes,” Celestia said, determination suddenly taking a steely presence in her voice. She raised her head and gazed levelly at Cadence with a firm, steady glare. “I love Luna as a sister, as a friend. She is the best companion I could wish for. There is a way to go forward. A way to retake my actions.

“It is not easy nor obvious, but it exists. I will find it. I will get Luna back.”

Cadence smiled. “That’s the Celestia I know,” she said in a serene voice. “That wasn’t you when you were consumed with rage. This is the true you. Remember that.”

An explosion from outside pierced the air with a sudden shock wave. Shouts of anguish followed, and the crackling of burning timber. Celestia jerked her head towards the window, grimacing as she did.

“Ponies are free to express themselves,” she muttered, “but nopony. Nopony is getting hurt. Not under my watch.”

“We must control them,” Celestia said firmly, turning back to Cadence. Her radiant mane fell over one eye, and the one in view sent out a glare as ferocious as her grimace. “I need Shining Armor in Canterlot… now.”

----------

The morning was clear as Restless Vigil looked out his window in disgust. Ponies were shouting in the streets, holding signs high above their heads, and generally being… inconvenient, as far as Restless was concerned.

He sipped on a small crystal glass of liquid, shaking his head as he looked over the crowd. They were so crude, so… inelegant. Real coups were executed in a subtle fashion, often making the populace merely think their existing rulers were… unsuitable. Then, the usurping party could rise as reputable by comparison, spout promising things that were actually a load of horse manure, and get into office without one death.

But the Fellowship had more in mind. Bloodshed did… muddle things up with legal mumbo-jumbo, but Celestia must be… disposed of. She was too powerful, nopony could win against her regime by simply manipulating the townsfolk, no, the leader herself must be destroyed. And her prize pupal, Twilight Sparkle; Restless sighed. She would be a nuisance, but not when used properly.

“My lord,” Virgil’s velvet voice floated through the door. There was a soft knocking noise as the butler waited.

“Come in, Virgil,” Restless said, continuing to gaze at the streets. The guard had arrived now, and were attempting to control the riots. Good, Restless thought, make them hate you even more, you white backed bastards.

“Your guests have arrived,” Virgil said, pushing the door open. “They wish to see you as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Restless waved a hoof, “send them in.”

“Yes, sir,” Restless could hear Virgil walk out of the room. Several pairs of hoofsteps galloped in the room; Restless turned.

“We heard it was urgent,” Ventus Lucem said, impertinently pulling a pen out of her mane. She was a muscular light gray pegasus, a light blue mane draping softly over one side of her head. A tree bending in the wind was her cutie mark. Her purple eyes were wide with panic and expectation, nervously holding a blackened quill over paper.

“Indeed it is,” Restless said calmly. Aurora Burst simply grinned, his eyes dilated and menacing. He nodded expectantly.

“What is it?” he prompted, his face filled with insane glee.

“Aurora… you do take zeal in your work, don’t you?” Restless said, slowly and deliberately plucking a hair from his mane. Aurora nodded. “What do you know of Luna’s new child?”

“Nothing, as of now,” Aurora said sheepishly. “I will begin investigation at once.”

“I am disappointed in you, Aurora,” Restless sighed, “I expect some knowledge by the end of the week.”

“Of course,” Aurora’s face hardened. “It will be done.”

“Ventus,” Restless turned to the nervous pegasus, “alert the your brigade to move into Ponyville. The plan will be executed as soon as our silversmith finishes his work.”

“Of course, Restless,” Ventus scrawled out the instructions onto her her pad of paper. She flipped the page quietly. “anything else?”

“Well,” Restless flipped a pen in his twitching hooves, “you can check with your brigade and assure me they know the plan through and through.”

Ventus nodded as she scribbled more symbols.

“You may go,” Restless beckoned towards the door, “Ventus.”

“Your wishes will be carried out,” Ventus said coolly as she exited the room. “Never will I let you down.” The door slammed shut with a sturdy certainty, Restless turned to Aurora, who was standing, stone faced, in the center of the room.

“Any news concerning the arrival of your sister?”

“None, everything is on track,” Aurora flashed a smile. Restless grinned slightly. “Lighted Prism has received the letter, arrangements have been made.”

“Wonderful,” Restless smiled.

“Now, if you'll excuse me,” Aurora stood up. “I must pick up some equipment from our silversmith.”

“Bring them back here promptly,” Restless ordered as Aurora’s horn began to glow. “I would rather hope that they be safe on my shelves.”

“Of course,” Aurora said, light beginning to consume his form. “I will be back here after dusk.”

A sharp blast of orange light and Aurora was gone, leaving Restless to look back out at the riots. Evening was approaching now, and authorities were still grappling with the protesters. Restless sighed and shook his head as he returned to his desk chair.

A book lay open, filled with ancient runes and glowing text. Its paper was crumbling, only the stark outlines of the glowing text seeming to bind the fibres together. Restless looked began to read it intently, looking over each rune with a scrutinizing glare.

“Perfect,” he said to himself, slamming the book shut in a flurry of dust. “Now where is Glowing Night?”

--------------

Glowing Night looked over his library one more time. Every book was in order, every word in its place… he hoped. Glowing Night’s library seemed to have a mind of its own, shifting books from their shelves, even swapping covers and text. And Glowing found it very annoying to maintain.

The chandelier on the ceiling flickered as he double checked the rows of shelves. He liked things in order, despite what the books had in mind. Loose floorboards squeaked under hoof, bairly held on by bent over nail heads. Glowing Night enjoyed his work… but wished it would be a little more cooperative.

He was an earth pony with a deep brown coat and a ruffled black mane. His eyes were bright blue, but bloodshot from late nights of studying. His cutie mark was a circle, with strange runes surrounding it. He was Glowing Night. He was librarian of the Canterlot Royal Archive.

It was a strange job, he knew; especially in the ‘Physical Magic/Earth Wizardry’ section. The books themselves were so filled with magic, they were alive. Some of the more restless ones were chained down, bursting at their binds with anger.

Others merely sat on the shelves most of the time, sometimes fluttering from place to place when they felt like it. They had moods; sometimes they were grumpy, sometimes they were friendly, and sometimes they were angry. Reading a book when it was in a good mood was one of the more crucial pieces of information the scholar had to know.

If one wanted to, it could probably take your hoof off. Thus, for the brave and stout of heart, there were tough fibre gloves, made from the hide of dead animals (of course they died of old age!), for tackling the restless books. Even these were ripped and bitten, clear toothmarks etched into their hard surface.

Where the books got teeth, Glowing Night didn’t know, but he knew they had them and it was damn important you keep your hoof away from them. Glowing Night only worked here because he loved it. He loved magic, but, being an earth pony, he learned more… crude forms of it.

Magic circles, potions, hexes; he learned them all. Ancient texts had taught him, teaching the ways of magic before unicorns. They were all here, every single piece of known literature about his favorite subject, snapping and biting at their chains.

He turned to leave from the dimly lit penitentiary of literature, throwing a cloak over his flank as he prepared to endure the cold night ahead.

The hood slipped soundlessly over his head as the doors creaked open, opening into the gaping mouth of night. Rain gently pattered on the ground, trickling slowly down the stark marble steps. Glowing Night began to hustle out of the Archives before his books created more
problems.

But just as his hooves clattered on to the misty marble steps, a familier sound met his ears. A distinct ‘pop’ resonated from his desk. Glowing Night flattened his ears.

“Celestia’s flaming eyeballs,” he said under his breath, grumpily turning around and storming back into the building. The product of the sound lay on his desk, surrounded by a green glow. A scroll. Glowing Night sighed and sat down, picking the scroll up in frustrated hooves.

Behind him, a pink book fluttered across the library. Just beginning to unroll the letter, Glowing looked up impatiently. He grabbed a small lead ball and chucked it at the airiel paper. It fell to the ground and lay, stunned, on the floorboards.

The librarian turned back to the scroll, unrolling it. He began to read.

Dear Glowing Night,

I hope the letter finds you promptly, as it contains urgent information concerning you and your library. The Fellowship is prepared to support your building. I have looked over the text you sent me and all required materials are collected. Fifteen members have agreed, to my command, to assist your contruction of the circle whenever you wish to begin.

Please do it promptly, as the Fellowship may find the Child at any time. It must be ready as soon as we do. Aurora Burst’s sister, Sunset Shimmer, will be joining us for the final stages of the operation. Please; make haste.

Your cooperation in forwarding The Cause is very much acknowledged and thanked,

Signed,

Restless Vigil

“Cooperation,” Glowing Night said tritely, “he’d have my neck if I didn’t cooperate. But if it’s true what he says about freedom….”

The pink book twitched. On reflex from years of practice, Glowing leaped from his desk in one smooth move. He tackled the book with his body, rolling across the floor in his grapple with the piece of literature. Dust rose as he forced the hardback book onto the ground, spreading its jaws out with his hooves.

“Now,” he said, panting a little. The book twitched helplessly in his strong hooves. “Are you going to come quietly?”

The book struggled harder, but Glowing stood firm. He gritted his teeth and pushed down. There was a small snap and a cry of pain.

“Now,” he retreated his grip, “reconsider?”

He never knew how they screamed. It just sort of… happened. Sort of how they have teeth, he kept telling himself. The book went limp, almost nodding in resignment.

He picked the book up in his teeth and gently set it on the shelf. It was silent, only glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. Glowing sighed and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Now, he thought to himself, to begin…

It looked like a long way till dawn, but Glowing Night didn’t mind. His cloak was waterproof, his hooves used to the sloshy urban waters. It was probably better this way.

“I wonder if he’s awake,” he said thoughtfully. “I may as well try.”

Glowing night turned down Preach’s Hill Lane and began his trek into the deep, cold night.