Chapter 1
In the grand, gilded halls of Canterlot Castle, the eminent perfection that was Princess Celestia sat stiffly on her throne. The late afternoon light framed her in golden light, converging on the petitioner at the base of the steps as if putting him in the spotlight.
“Furthermore, this will strengthen domestic trade, empower our craftsponies and beautify our marvelous nation,” the stallion continued. “And…” The brown pegasus cleared his throat, allowing the rapid scratching of a quill to be heard.
It’s been awhile since I’ve heard this one, Celestia thought to herself.
The stallion nervously shuffled between his pages of notes and placed a detailed map of Equestria on the stand to his right.
“Specifically, its construction will put millions of bits into the construction industry…”
Transport Bridleton produce...
“Allow the hardworking earth ponies of Bridleton to sell their produce to the greater metropolitan region west of the chasm…”
Next is usually tourism or something about Marathon Equestria.
“And encourage tourism to one of Equestria’s most tragically unappreciated natural wonders, the Grand Geysers of Calamitous Chasm!”
Look at that: bingo already.
Celestia mentally slumped on her throne and put an exasperated hoof to her chin, but outwardly, her regal look of thoughtful contemplation was unshaken.
She looked to her scribe, a perky vanilla earth mare with her pink mane in a bun, as she eagerly jotted down every word.
“I for one recommend Saddle Arabian sandstone for the main body of the bridge, while my broth—er… somepony I know’s mine can provide embedded gemstones to make the bridge the national landmark it rightfully deserves to be. But th—those details can be handled later, of course. I humbly beg for your approval, Princess.” He finished with a deep bow, pressing his nose into the polished stone floor.
Princess Celestia gave her trademark benevolent smile, making sure to iron out it any disappointment that might have leaked through.
“This is a very interesting proposal. I can see you spent a lot of time on it,” she said.
“Yes, thank you Princess.”
“I must ask, though, do you recall the depth of calamitous chasm?”
“Yes, Your Highness, twenty-two thousand feet deep.”
“And across?”
“Seven and a half miles at its narrowest point.”
“And how would you propose to support the weight of such a bridge when it’s over four miles off the ground?”
“Well… ummm… steel beams I would assume. Maybe wood if cost is an issue?” The stallion was clearly flustered.
“The region is also known for its extreme natural temperatures; I think that might be a problem for traders, especially during the summer.”
The petitioner excitedly started to hover.
“I thought about that, Princess! We could get a weather team from nearby Fluffyvale to manage the hot weather.”
Celestia gave a deep internal sigh that threatened to escape if she was not careful. It also took incredible resilience not to facehoof at this.
“It’s a good idea,” Celestia said, “but I’m not sure a small earth pony village of two-hundred inhabitants and half-a-dozen weather ponies to its name would be able to manage a site that’s an hour’s flight away from them.”
The pegasus’s hooves clicked on the ground as he landed. “I… I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And if I’m not mistaken, aren’t the Grand Geysers ten miles north of the section you want to build over?”
“Yes, but....”
“And I would be concerned that the nearby Diamond Dogs wouldn’t be able to resist decorative gems.”
“I… I…” The stallions lip quivered, ears drooping. “I’m sorry Princess!” he said prostrating himself before her. “I hadn’t thought this through at all. I’m sorry for wasting your t-t-tt-time.”
The stallion bowed deeper to hide his misty eyes.
Looks like I went too far. Am I losing my touch?
Celestia stepped down from the throne and took a few steps towards the pegasus.
“Don’t feel bad, my little pony. It is thoughtful of you to want to bring attention to the needs of an often forgotten region of our country.”
“But… the bridge…”
“No, it probably won’t work,” she said with sympathy. “I can see this is important to you, though. If you think of another way, I would love to hear it.”
He perked up. “Yes, thank you, Princess. I’ll come back when I have the perfect solution!”
The stallion bowed for the umpeenth time and walked out past a pair of motionless royal guards.
Celestia let out a breath of exhaustion and spread her wings dramatically—she had wanted to stretch them for the better part of an hour, but their size made it impossible to do so discreetly.
“Should I call for the next pony?” The armored unicorn guard asked.
“No, I believe that will do for today. Promise the remaining ponies that I will hear them tomorrow.”
The pair of guards nodded and stepped outside, leaving the Princess alone with her young scribe.
She glanced over at the young mare’s cutie mark: a quill and parchment. It was a special talent that was becoming rarer and rarer. Over the past century, her personal scribe had served as an entry-level job filled mainly by young unicorns looking to gain a foothold towards more specialized clerical positions. An earth pony that enjoyed the simple act of writing for its own sake was basically a throwback to a bygone era.
“Umm, Princess, do you need something from me?”
Huh? Oh I must have spaced out. Good thing I called court off early today.
“Nothing’s the matter, Quick Script,” Celestia said, causing the mare to blink in surprise at the direct address. “You seem to have taken to this job very well. Are you enjoying it so far?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s been an honor to serve you so far. I was always worried that my cutie mark wasn’t as fancy as some other ponies’. Look at my sister: She had a knack for runnin’ the family vineyard, while my parents went and tried to convince me I was best fit for managin’ the books. But being here is such an honor. I’m honestly flattered you find somethin’ like my flowery hoofwriting useful.”
“It is beautiful, Quick. I wish I could pen my personal correspondences with half the style and grace you achieve with such ease.”
“You flatter me, Princess,” the mare said bashfully, but a glint in her eye betrayed her internal exuberance at the praise. “This is a dream come true for me. Ever since I was a filly, I was taken by this scene—the royal princess sittin’ magnificently on the royal throne, helpin’ her ponies.
Should I? I wonder…
“Of course,” Celestia said with a grin, “as much as I love my little ponies, it can be taxing at times. The royal plot tends to get a bit sore after hours on the royal throne.”
The earth pony froze for a moment, not knowing how to react, before laughing and darting her eyes to the side.
“Of—of course not, Princess. Heck, you alicorns are amazing, no need to make me feel better ‘bout bein’ normal.”
I guess it was too soon… a pity.
“Oh, that reminds me. I noticed somethin’ a bit strange in here,” Quick said, changing the subject.
“And what would that be, my little pony?” Celestia asked, genuinely intrigued.
“When Short Sight was talkin’ ‘bout—umm… talking about decorating the bridge earlier, he was going to say his brother would sell the gems for bridge. You probably already noticed that, of course, Princess, but I’m wondering if he might have somethin’ of an ulterior motive—not that I’m pointin’ fingers or anything.”
“While that’s astute of you to notice, Quick, I don’t feel he was being dishonest. Bridleton sand rubies glow with a beautiful pink light when the desert sun is directly above. They complement sandstone rather nicely; the name’s a give-away. I feel he just realized how bad it sounded as he said it and backpedaled.”
“I see,” the smaller pony said, looking up at Celestia in awe.
“Although,” she mused, “if we’re talking about ulterior motives, then Ear Mark’s proposal the other day for educational reform would likely be the biggest offender this week.”
Quick blushed slightly. “But he seemed so passionate about helpin’ foals learn…”
“He’s on the board of a company whose publishing arm has a big stake in the elementary textbook market.”
“I see… sorry for speakin’ ‘bout somethin’ I don’t know anything about.”
“It’s perfectly all right; I value your input. I wouldn’t have known otherwise myself if I hadn’t asked Twilight for her thoughts on early educational material.”
And the fact that he oversold the point of improving education, name-dropped his organization incessantly, and gave about six dozen nonverbal cues of dishonesty.
Still, despite Celestia’s reassurances, the pony still looked down and nervously shuffled her hooves.
“Right, thank you, Princess. See you tomorrow.” The mare got in one last quick bow and scurried away.
“Take care,” Celestia called after her.
Left alone, she looked idly around the ornate, empty room.
I suppose it’s not quite time yet to lower the Sun, she thought. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken the scenic route…
It was a shame Quick didn’t respond well to her being more informal with her. She would have loved to have another pony around that could be her friend instead of just another servant. However, some ponies were just unable to look past the wings and horn and would genuflect on sight no matter what she told them. Sadly, Quick would probably fall into that category.
She found it a bit ironic at times that the universally beloved monarch of the land of friendship and harmony would have such difficulty making her own friends. While it had been difficult at first to outlive nearly everyone she would care about, she had long ago come to treasure their lives all the more for their brevity; if not, she feared she would have become callous towards her ponies in time. Instead, the problem now lay with others prostrating themselves and pushing themselves away of their own accord. It’s why she had been so insistent that Twilight make friends.
Celestia smiled at the guards, who saluted her, as she stepped out of the throne room and into a long, banal hallway, the walls painted with a recently added midnight blue stripe to commemorate Luna’s return. It was decorated with obres d’art in that stuffy, idealized style Celestia had never been fond of. Spaced equally throughout, on either side, were identical wooden display tables supporting seasonal flowers in a vase. On a particularly slow day last year, she had counted all the vases in the castle: eight-hundred sixty-four of them. And yet, her staff always seemed to be able to pinpoint and restock the right flower within an hour, whenever she opted for a snack on the go.
Ever since she had found a filly—well, a second filly—with the potential to complete Starswirl’s final spell, she had been looking for ways for Twilight to handle the immortality issue. She had been overjoyed that she had made the friends she had, friends that had known her before her ascension that would see Twilight Sparkle first, and Princess Twilight Sparkle second. She hoped Twilight could continue to make such friends, and who knows, if she could avoid the age-related barriers, perhaps her student could teach her a friendship lesson. As it stood, the years slowly built up, stick by stick into a formidable dam that increasingly stifled her ability to connect with the mortal pony.
And don’t get me started on dating, she thought. After all, unless she’s interested in Spike or Discord, it will only get harder the longer she waits.
With a smirk, she took a mental note of a fun potential “assignment” for Twilight; though she would have to wait to be sure such a prank wouldn’t send Twilight into a panic spiral.
As she turned the corner she felt a pang of longing. It may have been a bit selfish, but she sincerely missed having Twilight as a student. She had always brought out the best in Celestia and forced her to look at things in ways she’d never considered.
It was a joy to see Twilight through her formative years. She had loved her role as something of a second mother to her. Of course, she did have to share her with her parents, and there were times when she briefly wished she could have her to herself: Hearth’s Warming Eve, Mother’s day…
No, it was for the best. I should have be happy with anything that wasn’t a repeat of Cadance’s situation...
She shook the animosity of that bitter time and began her ascent of the solar tower.
Maybe I should send Twilight a letter. I’d love to hear where her independent studies have taken her.
No, Celestia knew she shouldn’t. Twilight had come into her own as a fine young mare. She had the wits, the knowledge and the magic to make her own path as Princess of Friendship. Of course, she would make mistakes, perhaps some of them painful, but it was something Twilight could only do on her own. Her only weakness at this point was her insecurities. If Celestia had left it to her, she might have stayed under her wing forever, and if Celestia let her, she would quickly defer to her once more.
Writing to her would only be for her own sake; besides, she had no idea how to begin such a casual letter to Twilight, who would scrutinize every comma. Perhaps it was for the best; Twilight had her own life and her friends to enjoy. What a sentimental old mare she was becoming, living vicariously through her. She hadn’t thought she would emulate that part of motherhood!
Celestia came back into the moment and took in the sight of the stained glass windows lining the narrow tower, the winding staircase spaced appropriately to accommodate her frame. By tradition, she was the only one that ever came here, the decorations in the interior the result of a trickle of commissions over the years. They were for her eyes alone, but today that struck her as a shame. What good were they it if the only pony who could enjoy them paid them no mind, mostly bypassing them by flying to the top?
However, her thoughts had already used up the entirety of the ascent, and she stepped out onto the balcony of the Solar Tower. As she looked out over the palace, she happened to lock eyes with her sister. With the superior eyesight of a pegasus pony, Celestia saw her sister’s gentle smile and returned it.
Looks like we’re in perfect sync today, she thought, invoking the magic that had come naturally to her since her adolescence.
Luna’s return had meant everything to her. Having a pony around that could empathize with her really did make everything so much easier. She only wished it hadn’t taken a thousand years without her to teach her she had been taking Luna her for granted.
After all this time, it’s still so bizarre to me. A thousand years, to us, is nothing, relatively speaking, yet such a short time has redefined our relationship. Who knows what another thousand could bring? Will I come to blows with Cadance or Twilight one of these days? Will being a constant presence in each other’s lives breed apathy towards one another? Will it be an endless cycle between drifting apart and back together again?
Celestia glided through the halls to her personal bedchamber, giving a polite nod to the pegasus guard before entering.
It’s certainly a long road to take together, Celestia thought.
I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Closing the door, she made a habitual, self-conscious check of the room. Finding nopony, she dropped all royal pretense, plowing face first onto her posh bed while levitating her crown to a nearby nightstand.
The day had left her drained. While many would expect hearing self-serving proposals of the Canterlot elite would be the most grating part of day court, ponies such as Ear Mark were relatively easy to tolerate. True, the worst of the nobility was incorrigible in its entitlement. The insulation from the livelihood of the common pony that their wealth provided was matched only by the impossible thickness of their skulls.
At first, in deference to the tenets of harmony that kept Equestria a paradise, she had tried for years, directly and indirectly, to earnestly make them aware of how selfishly they behaved. However, after a few remarkably oblivious attempts to act on her urgings — including the foreclosure of Canterlot’s largest food bank in order to erect a hideously extravagant monument to generosity — she had ceased all efforts of reform in order to spare Equestria’s precious supply of irony.
Nowadays, freed from the burden of trying, she would take what enjoyment could be had from such meetings. She had mastered the art of tossing backhanded compliments and thick sarcasm into her tone of royal indifference while sidestepping everything without directly saying ‘no’. Such sessions had become relaxing, and sometimes some good could even come of it. Her greatest coup yet had to be duping a certain ingrate into trading most of his real power for the completely meaningless title of prince.
Instead, the real struggle was giving her full effort to cases such as Short Sight’s. There was a pony who earnestly wanted to bring prosperity to his own village and to those in the area. While she had tried her best to make it otherwise, a benevolent monarchy did not exactly foster proactivity among her subjects. Forward thinking proposals such as Short Sight’s were exactly what she wanted to see, yet at the same time, it was where she most felt the burden of her extended lifespan. So tragically often, the ideas brought before her seemed infantile and simplistic. She had seen countless variations of almost everything and perceived even the most nested potential problems as gaping holes.
But her ponies tried—they tried so hard, and she owed it to them to give her best, but despite herself, sometimes her impatience slipped through.
I probably was too hard on him, Celestia thought once more. Is it that he’s more fragile than I thought, or am I becoming most distant?
She took her early evening cup of tea in her golden aura and brought it to her muzzle.
Jasmine. Just what I needed. Copper Kettle always seems to know somehow. Whatever I pay that pony it’s not enough.
She soaked in the flavor of the tea and imbibed the steaming cup’s calming aroma.
I suppose anypony would get a little impatient after hearing the same dead-on-arrival bridge proposal three times in the last three years alone — from three different ponies no less. If it weren’t for Luna’s…. absence on the first two occasions, I just might suspect my baby sister of using her powers for mischief again. Although, I do have a sneaking suspicion that Fancy’s idea of a national diet awareness month may have come to him in a dream…
Celestia caught herself staring blankly at her own ethereal tail.
Well, what now?
It’s a question she had run into a lot recently. Rising at dawn was in her job description, but even so, it was still too early to hit the hay. This was the hour she had normally dedicated to Twilight, whether it be giving her personal lessons or simply furthering their correspondence. However with Twilight’s graduation, it became a regular block free time, a hitherto rare commodity.
Philomena is off doing me knows what, and if I go out to eat, I’ll have to deal with all the attention again. What to do?
She would normally have a mountain of paperwork to distract herself with, but Luna had begged for something, however small, to do until the ponies of their kingdom once more accepted the sisters as equals. Still, she felt a nagging pressure at her inaction.
Maybe I really have become a workaholic, she thought, finishing off the last of the tea, looking about the room for anything at all to do.
Her bookshelf overflowed with thick tomes at the bottom, while the top shelf had dozens of much slimmer books.
I will have to read those at some point, won’t I? she asked herself. I innocently ask my niece what her favorite book is, and she doesn’t let me go until I’ve borrowed half of her collection.
Celestia didn’t have to read more than a few pages to realize that romance novels hadn’t changed in decades. Their formulaic construction struck her as antiquated as the magical theories of the lower shelves’ dusty doorstoppers. In any case, she could stomach the tedium of neither at the moment.
She spent even less time considering the poorly-concealed trapdoor leading to her secret cake stash. Ever since the press learned of it, she had been extremely self-conscious of it. How those fillies had snapped that picture she had never figured out.
Sneaking in here alone should have earned those three a cutie mark.
Completing a full visual circuit of her posh chamber, her eyes fell on a golden mirror on the dresser. It had been a gift from a visiting zebra delegate some fifty years ago, and she had never found another that could compare—equally true of the mirror and the delegate himself. When light struck it, her face appeared imposed over a brilliant morning sun.
Approaching it, she mused that it was no wonder her ponies couldn’t see past her status and stature—the eternally bright Princess of the Sun. She alone could see past her alicorn features, shimmering mane and perfectly groomed coat to see the exhausted mare underneath.
Well, her sister could relate, but Cadance and Twilight were still far too young to truly understand eternity, and she was grateful for this; they had all the time in the world to be wizened, “all-knowing” rulers.
To think it could have just as easily been Sunset Shimmer to whom she entrusted Starswirl’s great unsolved magic.
Sunset…
Celestia took a deep breath, flared her wings and let the air slowly escape her after a moment’s pause. She had had more than enough somberness for one day.
However, that bitter memory had nevertheless given her an idea. She once more engulfed her horn in its golden aura and summoned a heavy redwood chest to her side with a pop of magic. She lowered her head and touched her horn to it, tracing phantom glyphs in a compact but abstruse pattern. What she had in mind was hardly warranting the precaution but some of the chest’s contents could make the Alicorn Amulet look like a magical kindergarten crafts project.
She fluttered her eyelids with a tinge of guilt before retrieving a simple leather pouch with her magic, sealing the lid and sending the chest away again.
This was bad for her. Both sisters had agreed on that point, but then again, it had been a comfort to her, over a thousand years before—in times like this.
I have matured since then. I don’t anticipate making the same mistake. Besides, I could benefit from a fresh perspective anyway.
Without delay, she reached into the leather sleeve and withdrew a plain hoof mirror, turning it towards herself. With a low hum it accepted her minimal deposit of magic, and she saw her face replaced with a pale blue glow. The monochrome oval of light then split in half as a window was opened to a vast blackness interspersed with countless dim lights.
Nothing. I had forgotten how often this quirky old thing would completely miss anything interesting. I never could fix it, though it’s not that big a problem.
As if turning a page with her magic, the mirror flipped to another scene, once more an empty corner of space.
But it certainly can be irritating when it happens three or four times in a row. I hope it’s not broken.
Fortunately, her next attempt was a success, and the mirror brought a deep, green ocean into view. It was dark and thick with sludge, but a simple magical filter brought the hidden wonder into view. An enormous, bright coral reef extended as far as her magical eye could see, in every direction. The portion she could see alone could encapsulate Canterlot Castle several times over.
Massive, slug-like creatures clung to the walls, feeding on and restoring the exterior of the reef’s structure. Jellyfish danced in long chains and a rainbow of colored light shot through their bodies in rapid oscillations. Occasionally one of the slugs would burst and dozens of tiny minnows would emerge to head deeper into the structure. Celestia had her view follow them, and she discovered a breathtaking, massive undersea volcano.
She froze in awe, but the fish continued, suicidally, headlong into the lava, transmuting her amazement into horror. However, the tiny organisms soon emerged unharmed, wearing coats of molten magma, which they then deposited on the outside of the reef before returning once more into the natural furnace.
Incredible… why did I ever stop doing this? she thought, enraptured by the alien ecosystem.
She was no ecologist, but she couldn’t help but speculate on its inner-workings. The collaborating creatures could even be sapient species — or the same species—and she would never know.
However, she soon decided it was time to move on. The mirror’s beauty lay in its wider perspective of existence, but this was far too dissimilar to her own world to truly relate to. Perhaps something closer?
With another subtle pulse of magic, she calibrated the mirror to find a plane of reality more closely aligned with Equus. The hoof mirror fizzled with static-like streaks of magic, and a trio of adorable baby bunnies came into view. They were fully bipedal and about the size of a ten-year-old foal. They wore content smiles despite their tattered and torn garments of clothing. A seven-foot-tall, gray-haired hare with feminine features stepped to the door. She pulled on a pair of blue denim overalls and waved her children farewell. The oversized infants gave knowing frowns and started to tear up.
Celestia’s view followed the mother as she stepped out into a homogeneous, monolith of a housing structure. Twelve stories high, the complex didn’t waste even a square inch of space. Rust-coated, iron barriers were the only safety precautions as hundreds of identically-dressed lapine bipeds hopped down stairs on either side in accelerated time. The observing princess briefly marveled at the speed before recalling the effects of time dilation on dimensions moving relative to one another.
Through sheer force of concentration, she managed to keep track of the mother bunny as she and thousands of others filed into what appeared to be a gigantic, enclosed, chrome street fed by three such housing complexes. This street merged with three others into another, which in turn mouthed out into another, larger street. The fractal pattern continued unabated for far more permutations than she thought possible, until the now-millions of lapines sorted themselves into elevators.
This is so dreary, Celestia thought. There’s too much order to this world. No shops, no color, no diversity, nothing.
Finally, the hare mare’s subgroup of about four-hundred exited the elevator shaft and into another chrome jungle, populated with ponderous gears and conveyor belts. The tall bunnies took their places and started to work with impossible speed that could only partially be attributed to accelerated time.
To Celestia’s surprise, the supersized, highly-advanced assembly line produced not farming tools or weapons of war, but little red wagons, the kind most foals would own at some point in their lives. They came off the line by the hundreds and were packed into crates to be carried off by a crane in groups of a dozen boxes at a time.
Just one of those crates would have enough for all the foals in three Ponyvilles. How many must they make daily? Are there really that many foals in this world?
In only two minutes of watching, Celestia saw a dozen crane loads leave through the roof. Not once did the workers break, despite their exhausted, grease-covered faces begging for it to end.
Then, without warning, a dozen black bandana wearing bunnies stormed the factory, some holding what appeared to be lit candles of bright red wax. The workers bolted in primal horror at the sight, but it was too late. The newcomers flung the candles at a nearby metal sphere with a gauge, and a brilliant explosion rocked the factory, sending overhanging machinery falling.
The belligerents charged, attacking the machinery with bladed weapons, abandoned tools and more of the explosives. What few did not run to the exits joined the attackers in their apparently unprovoked frenzy.
The princess could do nothing but watch in horror as the bunny mother was caught in a bottleneck of jostling and stampeding at the factory’s entrance. About half had escaped when, suddenly, a golden-furred lapine teleported to the top of a stationary platform overlooking the floor. Unlike those below her, she wore a luxurious black leather skirt and a chemise of velvet silk.
In a flash, she drew a long piece of wood that resembled a unicorn’s horn and sliced the air in front of her. A black sludge of magic replaced the floor. Bunnies, ones with and without the black bandanas alike, sunk into the ground, gasping for air. They squealed in pain as they sunk into the quicksand pit of black magic. The alicorn couldn’t help but avert her eyes as they overflowed with deep sympathy.
When she dared look again, the floor was clear; not a trace of the tragedy remained. She noted the crane descending once more, this time bringing black crates to the floor, carefully placing each of them. With a wave of her wand, the mage snapped open each of the boxes in turn, revealing machinery identical to that which had been destroyed. The steel doors opened, a new batch of workers entered. And they made wagons.
Princess Celestia was sobbing. The bunny mother had done nothing to deserve her fate, and it had taken all of Celestia’s willpower to not fall into her old bad habit.
This world is too much like our own. If our population keeps growing, and we lose sight of the individual… maybe those with magic could… no, it’s too horrible; I will never allow it.
Exhausted, she switched the focus on the mirror. Another world of steel entered the view: A metal superstructure topped with a grid of glass panels dominated the foreground, but its surroundings were unexpectedly serene. A wide river fed into a compact dam and irrigated the miles of fertile farmland surrounding the city of metal. This world, too, operated at accelerated time, and seasons passed in seconds. Blurs of automated farming machinery could be seen reaping the harvest.
I never understood these worlds. They look wonderful from the outside, but there are never any ponies in the cities. Last time I looked the machines seemed to burn the crops. What’s the point of these worlds if there’s no one around to enjoy them?
Quickly bored with the sight, Celestia once more changed the picture. She thought she could get one more in before bed. Besides, she probably wouldn’t do this again for a while.
In slow-motion, two armies clashed on a dull, balding plain, exchanging a flurry of claws, fists and magical blasts. One side appeared to be led by what she could best describe as bears with antlers. They were small in number but made up with it size and wore nothing but their natural fur. They might be mistaken for beasts, but their enormous pony-like eyes spoke of profound wisdom. At their side were pink and brown-skinned bipeds cloaked in the skins of other animals. A minority possessed their own fur, much like the ursines, while others had a single antler, a predator’s teeth or sharp claws.
Hybrids?
Opposite of them was a far more homogeneous force. Strongly resembling the hybrids of their adversary, these strangely familiar bipeds stood noticeably shorter, sporting simple chaps and red vests over white undershirts.
Neither side appeared dressed for the occasion, yet their unbridled ferocity came through strongly in spite of time apparently progressing through molasses. Both factions fielded unarmed brawlers on the front lines that delivered bone shattering blows, while volleys of magical light rained down from the back of the lines.
Warfare. The sad fact is that it can bring out the best in some, only to sacrifice the same ponies in a hurricane of senseless violence. Curiously, this is relatively tame compared to what I’ve seen on other worlds.
She examined the magics of both sides more carefully. The ursine side clearly possessed superior magic, but surprisingly, she could faintly detect any from the opposition; their mage squadron consisted almost entirely of women channeling magical arrows through a series of crystals. Although their magic was elementary from a theoretical standpoint, these furless mares possessed pinpoint accuracy that only one unicorn in a hundred could achieve.
Humans, Celestia realized. That’s what they remind me of. Although not exactly the same, she had seen several races like them in her experience.
The alicorn casually primed her magic to draw a curtain on the scene; however, an incandescent light, slowly building, caught her eye. Three of the full ursines gathered around it, apparently chanting while they infused it with an energy emanating from their paws. The humanlike faction’s archers caught notice of this and charged their crystals in a slowly brewing panic as they started to aim.
However, the charge of the spell reached threshold much faster than they could react, and the energy sphere took to the air in a slow ascent of orange smoke. By the time its potential targets had realized what had happened, it had reached its zenith. The frontline fighters fled, scattering, and surrendering their positions. Meanwhile, the ursines regrouped, readied their weapons and prepared to exploit the opening their magical onslaught would create.
Celestia watched tensely as hundreds of humanoids desperately fled the impact zone. In the course of ten minutes the magic had coalesced into a small meteorite and hung barely fifty feet above the battlefield. To her relief, most had cleared the area or were nearly out of range. However, one brawler refused to abandon his duel, catching his fleeing hybrid opponent in the shoulder and dragging him to the ground as oblivion edged closer.
The man gave an arrogant smile. He, like most of his species, stood almost a foot full shorter than comparable human males Celestia had seen in the past. His short brown hair gave the impression of a grassy outcropping on a cliff, emphasizing his prominent, rounded cheeks that lent a boyish look to him. Fearlessly, he pointed his left arm at his fallen foe and the crystal atop his wrist began to glow as he prepared to finish the bear-pawed man off. As the crystal’s aura traced the outlines of a magical arrow, the flaming inferno crossed the ten foot mark, hovering now almost directly over the two.
Celestia had witnessed more than enough death through the crystal today. She wondered why she was still watching. She couldn’t do anything about it. Besides, this was supposed to be a relaxing activity. Yet she couldn’t wrench her eyes away from the imminent incineration.
Is it because I feel I shouldn’t have shut out the scene of death from before? Because I turned a blind eye to their suffering? No, I fully recognize that uprising as tragic; loss of life always is.
Thirty seconds passed as the fireball edged closer. She felt a churning in her stomach at what she was about to witness, yet still felt tethered to her cross-dimensional seat.
Something caught her eye — a blur moving faster than even the patiently advancing magic above. It was another humanoid. He came running, his body and feet slightly blurred behind the smoke as he raced the meteorite, sparks of mana arcing from the dense mass of magic.
Seven feet.
A young, clean-shaven face plowed through the smoke.
Six feet.
He kicked off the ground and hurled himself towards the other young soldier
Five feet.
His mid-air tackle connected, and the boy was knocked high in the air, gaining altitude enough to threaten to clip a low-flying pegasus. His wild trajectory sent him careening dangerously towards the retreating line, yet he was now safe from a gruesome death. The other soldier collided hard with the dirt, rolling to a face-up position. A look of fear slowly changed to solemn acceptance as the meteorite ticked closer and closer to his face.
A bittersweet smile came to Celestia’s muzzle. So in the end, I do witness the nobility and selfishness that can bloom in times of war. As always, why must the mother of such virtue smother its own? I wonder…
She knew she shouldn’t do this. It was precisely why she had sworn never to use the hand mirror again, yet curiosity pulled her unrelenting towards the siren song of a question: would his magical signature make him saveable?
I can’t save him no matter what the answer is, even if I wanted to, so why am I doing this to myself? If I find his magical signature corresponds to that of a tree or a butterfly it only confirms the inevitable. And if he could have live on here as a pony or something else, I’ll feel worse about it, so why?
Ultimately she gave into temptation and, an aura of magic enveloping her eyes, trained her vision on the soldier who had thrown himself headlong danger.
What...
No… it can’t be. This is a mistake, she thought, sweeping the battlefield for confirmation of her conviction; however, the more she looked, the more of an outlier the first reading became.
Pear tree, earthworm, vampire fruit bat, willow tree, daffodil, blue jay, yellowtop mushroom, flea, poison joke, male labrador retriever... No one else has a magical signature even close to another pony in any of these readings, but no matter how many times I look, his reading says the same thing…
The meteorite now hung a foot above the human’s nose. Celestia estimated she had about twenty seconds to make a profoundly difficult decision.
No… this is for real. What do I do? I can’t leave him here: it would be like watching idly by as a barge full of priceless artifacts capsizes.
But he never knew anything about this; it wouldn’t be fair. But I don’t even know if I can pull this off. I just finished telling Twilight never to use her alicorn magic like this!
Celestia panted heavily and pressed her hoof down hard on the mattress underneath her.
What would my subjects do if I hurt myself attempting this? But... this could secure our future… Equestria’s future. I can’t just walk away.
Six inches away. The flowing colors of the alicorn’s mane stood still as she gnawed on a forehoof, a far cry from the composed ruler of mere hours prior.
What is the right thing to do? What would—I don’t know! There’s not enough time!
Her heart racing, Celestia dug deep into her magical reserves and concentrated on the fallen footman. Absent were any spell sequences, any mental constructs, or any of her millennias of wisdom. Fueled by raw emotion, her mana reserves ignited and bridged time and space, sending countless tendrils throughout the multiverse to find and retrieve the boy. She felt a searing pain in her horn, and she redoubled her magical exertion.
Finally in a golden pop, her target fell gently on the bed. Gasping for air, Celestia sent her last puff of magic at him. It thinned into wisps, making a cracking sound before a golden barrier engulfed the unconscious human with surprising vigor.
That’s odd, she thought. I didn’t think I had anything left for a full containment field.
Consciousness fading, she took last glance at what the diagnostic spell had printed over her field of vision:
Species: Pony (Alicorn)
Gender: F
Age: -10 wk.
I just hope I did this for the right reasons…
With that thought, her head hit the ground, exhaustion claiming her.
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You accidentally-ed the petitioner's dialogue in the middle there. It's a very common formatting error and a difficult one to spot when editing. That's why I always copy the story into an unpublished story so I can check the formatting after it's gone through FiMFiction's code.
Another messed up italicization.
Here too. So that is three times that narrative immediately following thought has gotten italicized, something to make note of in the future.
...
Probably should have waited till I finished to post the first comment.
Interesting intro, good work.
Why? If it sucks then you just pull it and admit it sucked.
If it's good then you have to go through the embarrassing process of admitting it's yours.
Though, to be fair, with a name like Short Sight, it's kind of a self fulfilling prophecy, isn't it?
This was a pretty well written introduction, you have my attention.
what time/year did the human live in?
Bolded for emphasis.
Um...he isn't going to become a fetus, is he? That negative age is worrisome.
7727242
I can't help but share your worry.
8272598
I was a bit worried, too, but 10 weeks isn't too premature for a foal.
Unless the pregnancy times are super short.
Anyway, first chapter review: Great start. I love that you took so much time setting up characters and motivations. Many Fimfiction writers assume that you "already know" the characters, which simply isn't true. These characters simply haven't had much in-show characterization, even if it wasn't alternate-canon.
I'm glad I started reading. This is sounding like it's going to get put on my Kindle soon.
Reading this entirely on the basis that mix-up thought it was good enough to be worth making a cover for. Seems like it's starting out well on its own merits, though.
Ok I havnt even got past the first sentence yet and I'm commenting..... For some reason I died laughing when I read the first sentence. I don't know why but it was hilarious.
I nearly overlooked prank and thought that she was trying to be mean for a moment.
that sounds slightly like giant ponies again.
Not sure if I'm not conentrating enough, but I'm not sure what happens here, is she suddenly going "human magician"? and her earth turned into a fantasy world?
Could you do me a favour and explain to me some of the mirros scene? It seems today it's a bit difficult for me to pay the same amount of attention to a bigger chapter.
-? ten wk. Did you mean that he is 10 weeks old or something?
I think the human was changed into some sort of baby Alicorn right?
It could have beena colt too, but I like the akward genderbend things. I mean the reactions and how the human is always adjusting himself to it.
I like it that Celestia did this because of her emotions and probably didn't really new what she did here. Maybe because its always good to see a not to perfect Celestia.
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I think that author-san meant 10 weeks from completely changing into an alicorn or something. Reading the description of the story, it makes sense
This is a great first chapter but one complaint you had Celestia looking at alternate universe's for what seemed like half the chapter maby if you re-edit this chapter shorten the viewing of the other universe's but keep it the same for the universe the boy came from.
Sweet baby Jesus this chapter was amazing
It's perfect. Every world shown was believable, interesting and detailed.
You could write a whole story just about he coral reef world.
Luna help me if you keep this up I will have to favorite this story
Interesting intro if not for the typos
Speaking of immortality, am I the only person that shares a head-canon that Twilight’s friends are immortal, due to their connection to the tree/elements of harmony since they are the physical embodiments of their elements and those elements have existed since the beginning of time
Ok so I don’t know what just happened.
I had a comment set up with grammar mistakes I found in this chapter, and I was updating it as I went, copying it to my iPad’s clipboard as I went to ensure I didn’t lose anything.
I found the fourth grammatical mistake so far, come down to update the comment only to find all the text gone. I figure maybe I hit cut instead of copy, honest mistake. So I hit paste, only for the only thing to be on my clipboard being the single word “many”.
Well uh, guess I’m not showing errors I found in the chapter. I can say they’re fairly obvious, though, if you read through.
I can’t see what would make past me stop reading in this chapter. Maybe past me made a mistake, it’s possible.
I went through and found the mistakes I had in the comment I lost.
“I should have be happy”
“were they it if the only”
Here’s another one, “Luna her”
This one isn’t a grammar mistake or anything, more a formatting mistake. The start of this paragraph is italicised but stops at “three Ponyvilles”.
Not your world, not even your existence if I get it right. Let him die...
Well this is exciting!
While the premise is definitely iffy to me reading such a well-done Celestia definitely has me intrigued on how you will handle this.
They're bunnies. Of course there's that many children.
this story seems interesting
🤢
I am very confused