Tomb of Magic

by Ice Star

Chapter 11: Anything but a Silent Night

When 'Solara' and I first came here, the heavens were imperfectly forced to rise each day by the weak magic of two thousand unicorns for the sun and two thousand more for the moon.

All these ponies perished, for they lacked more than just strength and skill. None of them would ever be able to withstand what no mortal could, or would ever. This sick routine was carried out as normal for many a year, and was ingrained as normalcy long before Solara and I ever arrived. Unicorn citizens were selected to perform the task in a sort of raffle of death, for they were all the slaves to the crown, and the crown were slaves to tradition. The upper classes could send servants in their place, as well as spouses and offspring. Yet, it was not as if their population suffered either, for these ponies produced enormous amounts of foals, and many died young.

We intervened and gained what Father called our cutie marks, but salvation for any was not to be.

...

"Papa, what are those marks you and Mama and all the ponies have called?"

The right side of my father’s mouth curved into a small smile. He was passing through one of our home’s softly-lit reading rooms and I was attempting to flutter into a large ivory-colored rocking chair, whose wood seemed to glow in the lantern glow and moon light. My feeble efforts at flight failed and I half-scrambled, half-jumped into the chair.

"Are you talking about a cutie mark, Luna?"

"Yes!" I quipped, adjusting my pose so I didn't sink into the chair, puffing my chest out like some of the castle cats did whenever they showed I pride I wished to have for myself.

"Well, Luna," said my father, smiling easily as he often did, "These are the marks that ponies get. It marks their calling, and for some, on a deeper level it marks who the pony is. It can even represent something that the pony - or Alicorn - can do that none do the same way, and makes them very special."

I squinted and twitched my muzzle, which itched from some book-dust and the fact that I was still only a wee little filly and had a bit of a tough time wrapping my mind around such concepts from time to time, and though I loved things like reading, I was at the age where I would still stumble over many words in books.

"Can one draw these things, Papa? Make a fake symbol?"

"False marks are dangerous, Luna, they change who you are and make you live a lie."

"Like a really mean mask? 'Cause they have false faces and nopony can see past them sometimes. Oh, oh! And they get stuck!"

"How curious a thing! Mean masks? Or might it just be a frightening one?" A third voice had joined us followed by my older sister, pink mane bobbing elegantly with her silky steps. She had begun to let it grow longer, as she liked it. Although she was only about seven mortal years in mental and physical age, she thought herself the pearl of the palace, rivaled only by our parents, since there were no others here, unless family visited.

"Tia, sit next to Us!" I called, patting the spot next to me on my temporary throne.

She crossed the room with her smooth-silk steps and silently curled her tail around her legs as she found the straight backed pose she loved and used to impress everypony.

Immediately, she assumed Social Act: raised eyebrow, thoughtful mouth, and swiveled ears with her side-curl embracing her cheek like a question mark and waiting for anypony to tell her what was happening and continue the conversation - she would join in almost any conversation, even if it was one I thought was boring!

"We cannot believe our ears, Papa! Mean masks? There is no mask that is alive, it is just scary, correct? Are these the latest culprits that stole Luna's sweets, or are these just her wild stories? What will happen next, shall the moon collapse into the planet like an overgrown comet and the sun truly smile upon our world?"

"No, Tia we were just talking about cutie marks," replied Father with a roll of his eyes. My 'wild stories' were not appreciated by anypony, but Tia would always listen to them, even if she liked to interrupt and remind me that owls were not likely going to fight us in battle at dusk, or that dragons did not often wear armor, and that my stories had a curious lack of what she called 'the good ponies and the bad ponies'.

"Why do you and Mama call them that?" I had assumed Curious Act: wide eyes, cocked head, and one ear lazily flopping downward as if napping in my mane, which was bobbed, soft, and blue.

"Luna it would be hard for you and you sister to obtain marks something other than cute."

"We want Ours to be powerful!"

"Celestia, marks are not all about power, they are about who you are." Father was using Serious Voice. This meant we had to pay attention to what he was saying or 'Stop eating so many gosh-darned cookies, Luna!'.

I placed my silent vote on the former.

"Yes, Papa," Tia murmured, magenta eyes gleaming with a feeling I could not place. Maybe she realized now that her wish was not a very good one? Power does not sound like something that would describe me. I think I am a good storyteller, so it could be that.

Father got up, his dark coat gleaming with the galaxies shining behind him. He nodded, and with a serious 'remember what was discussed’ look, he left, leaving Tia and I amongst the books. I quickly began thinking about which one I wanted to read and started surveying the shelves from my throne.

She turned to me, her eyes now gleaming eagerly like a cat near a stream brimming with fish. "What do you want your mark to be, sister?"

My mark? The symbol that would tell my story to all who saw it. An eternal representation of who I was. My story

...my story...

I was even sure who I was, did I not have to be taller for that? The very thought of destiny scared me like timberwolves, maybe even more, for at least I could face a timberwolf. Destiny was big, ambiguous, and erratic to me then. Though sometimes I still felt as if it was like a blank sheet of parchment to me, if it existed. Destiny sounded a lot like somepony writing your story for you, and I do not think that was possible. It sounded make-believe.

Tia's eyes were very hungry for their answer by now while I sat here chewing on my lip the entire time. It did not taste like cookies, and that made me sad.

"We are unsure Tia, of what Our mark would be..."

She rolled her eyes nonchalantly and left the room, calling back to us: "Luna sometimes you can be such a baby!"

We are unsure, Tia, of what the future holds. It is very long, and I do not think even the dreams that you and I have could map all of it.

It was that night that I dreamed of two evil green eyes unlike any known to me, laughing in many voices. Nopony was there to save me as I ran screaming from a void-scape into a shadowed place far in the distance. The shadow might be able to help me. What might the shadow-place hold, tricks or treats?

Tia dreamed of endless foreign soil as far as the eye could see, which sounded like there was something wrong. Were there no trees? Or anything? Ponies and other creatures did not live everywhere, and that was okay. It would not be nice if they did, but Tia loved ponies and it seemed strange for her not to dream of a single one.

Unlike Tia, the next morning I did not tell Father and Mother what I had dreamt.

Dreams should never come true, never ever. They should stay dreams, or some things should. I hope they did not come true. Please?

...

...Although here it seems these marks were dismissed as nothing, their real names forgotten by both these equines and us. Father had always used foal-names for them, like cutie mark. We were forced into apprenticeship with Starswirl, for what is tremendous power without control and education? At least that is what the Court said, and We are still skeptical, because they said more than that before they had us sold like candy to the greedy sorcerer, who was quite young then.

He dubbed us with false and unfitting names then brought us to the prison he called home where we learned books and techniques of the arcane by heart and suffered outside. We were confined by the beastly weather and one of the fractured spells from Starswirl's mysterious 'master work': The Forbidding Rune. It forced us, despite all our ability, to be confined in this valley with only rare occasions of supervised escape, and only made his many wards and other barriers strong enough to hold us back, for Solara and I were still vastly untrained and needed form over power... something I had to learn on my own.

We miss freedom. Or at least, I do.

One 'day' I will fly far away. Maybe south. Maybe east. Maybe to the heavens. I will fly alone, for I fear that Celestia will be as lost as Mother and Father, but I cannot tarry forever.

My guilt will eat me alive for all these injustices 'till I only see the countless demons behind my eyes, for I hear that is where demons are - they are part of some shadow.

Perhaps it is life who feasts on me, I cannot say. Is it unusual to feel guilty for the crimes of others? I am surrounded by these guiltless and corrupt things, and I feel the remorse of it all.

...

What a dreadful 'lesson'. For my so-called 'idle behavior' I was forced to be 'Lara's training dummy.

Again.

She always puts her full force and blinding power into her magic and combat, like she was the sun and meant to outshine us. The sun is not gentle, nor is she. Thankfully, I am light on my hooves and escape most of her blasts, though her axe swings never seem to hit me as hard as her skill intends, and I find some surprise in that.

I purposely hide my the true extent power and magics and what I have taught myself. I mean only truth, but despite our training Sol-Celestia still seems rather poor at magic compared to me, she only burns brightly. Starswirl and the other rulers , when the other ruler-ponies visit that is, call her The Light Most Powerful, Fairest of All just by looking at her!

Yes, I fake weakness and if needed, complete incompetence, because something very colossally wrong, amongst other things, is going on here and always has, but the other monarchs have never even seen her magic!

I give a frustrated sigh and swallow another ton of anger, continuing to drag my magic-singed coat and axe scathed form up the narrow stairs, dragging my cloak and blade, fine Quicksilver, with me.

Celestia is lucky I do not scar on the outside, or I might crack like bones on a pyre - a sight I have seen little of, in war, while all stand around me with hollow eyes.

Through the halls I gaze wearily at the empty libraries, armory, kitchen, storage rooms, and studies before passing the two chambers before my own: those of Starswirl and Celestia.

Before passing these I had slipped my berry-pouch with its worn wyrm-scale exterior under Kawblance's bedding and concealed it as best I could lest Starswirl confiscate it. Kaw has not eaten or drank anything in nigh fifty 'days' yet was deprived of the evening meal for his spitting. It is not exactly as if he is good at stealing food, either. I am the best at that but Starswirl is all-knowing when it comes to the food caches, and as cruel as Kaw appears, I do not want him to starve. Maybe he might not be as bad as I think? Just because I do not like ponies, does not mean I wish to harm them.
I flop down on my simple bed of my homely chamber and gazed out at the stars through the open air window. Sometimes I wished I could stay up later to fly and chart stars, maybe even to do something other than wait for a chink in this armor.

But sleep is a must. If I don't sleep then I might grow weaker. If I am weaker I cannot fight. I cannot wait. I need more then strength of spirit to keep my alive.

Survival is something that takes gumption, intelligence, spirit, luck, sleep and more than enough hope.

But to fly again... to go out at night.

All the campfires we had... where the stars hung everywhere echoing our laughter... and our tears.

Night is just unloved now, just as I am.

My thoughts turn to my mother and father yet distantly cling to me. They loved me, wherever they are and I repay them by having their presence weaken in my mind... what did they look like? It takes longer to remember, even if I never forget.

What has become of my beloved parents?

What will become of me?

I want to scream. I wanted to scream this and everything to the sky until the stars fell out of their places and blood ran in my throat until my eyes glowed with pure magic. Until the world lost all balance, until my sister heard this plight, until my mane turned as yellow as her sun in the chaos and I glowed like the stars who seemed to be my only kin these days as anger festered with something and everything more.

I wanted to right all these wrongs: find my family, find the others. Sometimes it seems that the world I knew for such a short time is as far away as my star-kin. I did not want this world to be gone though, it held its own majesty beneath all this hate and torture.

But did I really have to choose?

I gritted my teeth, forcing everything back down my throat as I pulled the homespun blankets, as rough as this land, over my head so nopony would hear me cry.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Outside, a mournful wolf cry emerged from the night and I knew my Banshee was crying with me.

Me, the Filly of the Apocalypse, The New Age Princess.

The Last Alicorn.

Author's Note:

I want to scream this to the sky until the stars fell out of their places and blood ran in my throat until my eyes glowed with pure magic. Until the world lost all balance, until my sister heard this plight, until my mane turned as yellow as her sun in the chaos and I glowed like the stars who seemed to be my only kin these days.

Did I just make Luna sound like a Super Saiyan?

Comments

[Ice Star]

8515843
Haha, yep!

[CoffeeBean]

You slippery fuck part 2, Sombra is Kaw. I think we now know how he's so good at not eating for long periods of time.

[RoyalBardofCanterlot]

She always puts her full force and blinding power into her magic and combat, like she was the sun and meant to outshine us. The sun is not gentle, nor is she. Thankfully, I am light on my hooves and escape most of her blasts, though her axe swings never seem to hit me as hard as her skill intends, and I find some surprise in that.

...Because it's a friendly spar and she's not trying to murder you?

[RoyalBardofCanterlot]

I feel so much pity for her.

[GeneralSarcasm]

I love Luna's perspective in these flashbacks, she is so incredibly wise for her "age". Especially when compared to her sister.

[Bicyclette]

Unicorn citizens were selected to perform the task in a sort of raffle of death, for they were all the slaves to the crown, and the crown were slaves to tradition. The upper classes could send servants in their place, as well as spouses and offspring. Yet, it was not as if their population suffered either, for these ponies produced enormous amounts of foals, and many died young.

oof, yeah. no idea if this predates and thus predicts the play shown in the canon, but the implications of what happened before the current system of things of Celestia personally raising the sun are very grimdark

She crossed the room with her smooth-silk steps and silently curled her tail around her legs as she found the straight backed pose she loved and used to impress everypony.

aww, born to be the Soveregn of Equestria!

My 'wild stories' were not appreciated by anypony, but Tia would always listen to them, even if she liked to interrupt and remind me that owls were not likely going to fight us in battle at dusk, or that dragons did not often wear armor, and that my stories had a curious lack of what she called 'the good ponies and the bad ponies'.

hehe, love how this connects with Sombra’s disdain for Equestrian stories earlier

Tia dreamed of endless foreign soil as far as the eye could see, which sounded like there was something wrong. Were there no trees? Or anything? Ponies and other creatures did not live everywhere, and that was okay. It would not be nice if they did, but Tia loved ponies and it seemed strange for her not to dream of a single one.

ooh that does seem strange!

Perhaps it is life who feasts on me, I cannot say. Is it unusual to feel guilty for the crimes of others? I am surrounded by these guiltless and corrupt things, and I feel the remorse of it all.

oof! and the contrast between her and Celestia really gives a different tint to the official story of what happened between them

Night is just unloved now, just as I am.

though this does sound a bit closer to that official story