Chapter 2: The Thing That Should Not Be
CHAPTER 2
“THE THING THAT SHOULD NOT BE”
CANTERLOT
Night
The sky is freighting to behold, a perpetual eclipse blocking out the sun’s light beyond a sea of dark clouds moving across the firmament. The air is filled with the wails of fear and ignorant misery, cries of ponies in swaying herds with faces drawn in anguish as they rove over a plain of dead grass.
A hill overlooks the rotten vista, a cruelly formed feature of broken stone upon which several shadowed figures stand, silent. The centermost character is tall, towering over those on either side. It seems to hunker in on itself under a ruined mantle that flutters in a steady breeze, its head obscured under an evil helm of steel thorns and black shadows.
From the other figures a chorus of howling goes up, howls that come together to sing a primeval song. The song of predator and prey. The song of the hunt.
The several smaller figures sweep down from the hilltop with a roaring fury.
The lone figure remains, unmoving and unmoved by the din of violence that rises up from the plain below. Rather, it cast its gaze to the monochromatic sky.
This was is world now. This is Equestria.
Celestia awoke with a gasp, her breast tight and short of breath. Immediately she searched the room for something, as if she expected to find somepony standing in one of the corners. She pulled her blanket up to her chest as she waited for her pulse to relax. This was far from the first bad dream she’d ever had, so why didn’t waking up make things better? Was this terrifying scene in her unconscious a vision? Like the one that forewarned her of the Tirek’s return? Swinging a silken robe of white and gold over herself, she went out from her room.
Luna was poised on a terrace when Celestia found her, facing out to the western hills.
“You felt it too then, sister?” The nocturnal alicorn asked without turning. “A reverberation in the harmony of Equestria.”
Celestia glanced about the veranda and noticed the agents of the Lunar Guard standing off at the corners, watchful but giving their patroness liberty of space.
“I haven’t felt something that dark in a long time.” Celestia approached her sister’s side and used her magic to pull her robe a bit tighter. “Not since-”
“Not since…” Luna cut in, exhaling slowly, fixated on the distance. “Not since Nightmare Moon.”
Unsure of how to proceed with the conversation, Celestia turned her face away.
Luna continued: “I was in my chambers when I was struck by a migraine, I almost dropped Tiberius. I saw in a vision the flash of a figure, red and iron. Beyond that, nothing.”
“You know it better than anypony,” Celestia leaned back in, trying to find Luna’s eyes. “What do you think this means?”
Luna pondered, her head dipping as her brow furrowed.
“I don’t know.” She said after a few moments. Then she turned and faced Celestia with trembling pupils. “And it terrifies me.”
Long Ago…
The celebration was more for the older ponies than anypony else. The nobles and other important grown-ups were too engrossed in their own conversations and associations to notice that the little blue filly had grown unhappy with the event ostensibly arranged in her name. The anniversary of the day she and her sister were found.
Secluded on a satin silver pillow, little Luna felt the anxiety of being stuck in the room full of adults more interested in entertaining each other than paying notice to her. Celestia had already grown disinterested and abandoned the party to go play according to her whims. Luna, however, had been told that her presence was required in order to make a good show to the many visiting dignitaries and Canterlot aristocracy. While they had each paid their portion of attention to the young Princess, as the evening wore on, they consumed themselves in the usual manner of politicking and glad-hoofing.
Which meant that nopony in sometime had deigned to humor the child while more important conversations with more important ponies were to be had. Only the guards standing post on either side of her dais gave the occasional glance before returning to their stoic posture.
She looked for Starswirl, but the last she had seen of the kindly unicorn was him being crowded by an assortment of ponies practically pushing each other out of the way for a minute of his storied attention.
Checking to make sure the guards weren’t watching at the moment, Luna backed her way off the pillow and slipped behind them, using the forest of legs to conceal her escape. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was trying to find, only that she didn’t want to spend another minute on her lonely satin island.
Above her was a canopy of conversations, guffaws, and self-aggrandizement, punctuated by the odd clink of a goblet or call to the servants for one task or another. Maybe if she got close enough to the food table, she’d be able to snatch something tasty before finding a way out of the room. Though as she weaved her way through the crowd, she kept glancing up, hoping that one, anyone of them would look down and smile. That anypony would take an interest in her.
That was when she felt the brush on the back of her neck. Like a breath.
Something about it made her pause, a tingling notion to discover the cause of the sensation. She looked about through the innumerable stalks of stallions and mares, hoping against reason that it might be another filly or colt brought by one of the guests. What she did find however, was something even more intriguing.
Standing still among the throng, was a tall, elegant, beautiful mare with dark blue fur and bright, piercing eyes. From her neck wafted an ethereal mane of starry mist, and she was fixing Luna with a smile of gleaming teeth.
The filly‘s face opened to see the figure, and she quickly made her way, moving as though the objects between were parting in time to allow her unfettered passage. And before she realized it, Luna was standing before the smiling mare.
“Hello again.” Luna said, tilting her head up.
“Hello, Luna.” The mare cooed, gliding her head down at an angle. Though she spoke, the smile remained with only enough disturbance to articulate the words. “Why do you look so sad today?”
“I am told it is the anniversary of being found, that it’s a celebration for me.” Knocking her hoof against the floor, the filly pouted. “But nopony really cares.”
“Ohh….. that is sad. Not even your sister?”
“Celestia has left already, she grew bored.”
“How cruel of her… What of your mentor?”
“He’s busy, everypony desires to talk to him.”
“That doesn’t sound very thoughtful of old Starswirl… but you and I are friends, are we not?”
Luna’s face lifted, a small sniffle as she gazed up. “Yes.”
“Well then don’t worry about old Starswirl or cruel Celestia, they don’t deserve you. But I will always be here for you. Whenever you have need of me.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” The mare’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling. “And if you and I become very good friends, then I will make sure nopony makes you feel sad… or lonely… ever again.”
“Luna! There you are!”
Barging his way through lords and ladies, Starswirl the Bearded practically swatted them aside to get to the filly. He scooped her up in his magic and held her against his chest.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, you disappeared from your seat, had me worried so.”
“I…” Luna wanted to explain herself, but just felt overcome with the guilt of a child.
Seeing her misery, a softness melted Starswirl’s wizened face, and he brought up a hoof to caress her cheek. “I know, child, it’s getting late for you and all of these strangers have been rather neglectful guests. Come then,”
Placing Luna on his back, Starswirl tucked her into his cloak, “Let’s get you out of this place.”
As she snuggled into the warmth of his body, he cast a curious eye towards the built-in mirror on the wall that provided celebrants the opportunity to bask in their own reflections.
“To whom were you speaking?” He asked.
“Hmm?”
“Here, at the mirror, I thought I saw you talking to somepony?”
Luna looked to the mirror and saw nothing of the beautiful mare.
“Just… myself.”
Hollow Shades
Several Years Before Present…
“Come child.”
Sitting by himself in the town square, the young colt remained transfixed on the statue that anchored the public space. Hollow Shades was an old village. Nopony quite remembered who exactly had founded it; some said earth ponies moving north, others said unicorns moving south. But everypony mutually agreed that it was older than Canterlot, Appaloosa, Ponyville, and most any other settlement one could name.
“Stop dithering boy and come along.”
The colt, of steel-blue fur and black mane looked over his shoulder to the coal-colored unicorn stallion waiting impatiently just outside the porch of the general store. His father was not one to be described as affable, so when his displeasure was worn on the face, it was not for a son of his to delay a moment in compliance.
The keen golden eyes of the colt went back to the statue as he got to his hooves, holding it with the same fascination as whenever he had the opportunity to spend time contemplating it. Poised in immortal majesty, the aged stone figure of Princess Luna stood vigil over the humble hamlet, as it had for as long as anypony could remember.
“Why do you carry such admiration for the Princess?” The father asked as they set on their path. “You know well why she was banished.”
“I do...” The colt answered, pondering his reasons on the dirt road. “I just think she’s beautiful.”
The father snorted but was not cross. “Indeed, the stories claim as much. But I would be wary of giving the fallen alicorn undue interest. Too many stallions have been led astray following a fair face, for it may conceal a wicked heart.”
“Yes, father.”
“Keep to your studies, son, sharpen your mind and hone your magic. In that you will find accomplishment. Master yourself, and you will master the world around you.”
“Yes, father.”
It was an odd thing, looking back on it. That my father, a relatively uncomplicated pony of simple means would possess the insight of such a philosophy. I often wondered during my later education why he failed to exercise such a life-plan for himself. Maybe it was something that he only formulated once he was already settled in his rut with the hindsight of many years toiling. He was of course, entirely correct.
Though my accomplishments have far surpassed those of my father, I reflect on his advice as the best I’ve ever received. To that end, I ever-after sought to unlock my true potential, and make strides into the frontiers of known magic. Which at times, could prove something of a precarious endeavor.
The Well of Shade
Last Night
A brooding Apostle was slunk down in his seat at the end of the large ornate table, a hoof curled against his chin. Several other members of the Restoration Project were also in their respective chairs, some jabbering incoherently in paranoid fright, others silent and contagious with restless-leg syndrome. Directly across from Apostle, Legacy sat at the head of the table with his face cradled in his forehooves. Every now and then one of the other members would leer in Apostle’s direction for a few minutes, mutter something either to themselves or to their neighbor. He noticed them, but declined to engage.
After they had broken through the obsidian palisade, escaping the temple’s ceremonial chamber, they reassembled into an adjacent room that they had prepared as a remote meeting hall. None of them quite knew what course of action to take, having succeeded in conjuring this terrifying entity from the bowels of darkness. One or two had tried to leave, scatter into the nighttime countryside like rabbits from a timberwolf. But cooler heads and firmer hooves had prevailed upon them to remain for now, until they understood something more concrete of the situation.
“I haven’t heard anything in an hour.” Heritor spoke up under her cloak, standing by the room’s door which led out into the main chamber. “Do you suppose it’s still in there?”
“Would you like to go in and see?” Grace suggested sardonically from her seat. “I’m sure you’d make for scintillating company.”
Heretic interposed his stature between the mares, “Why should she be the one to make conversation? If anypony should be the ambassador to royalty, it should be me.”
An audible groan of disgust escaped from somewhere underneath Grace’s hood.
“Nopony should be going in there until the sun is high in the sky.” Crusade asserted with his typical soldierly demeanor. “We don’t know what that thing did to Marley.”
Legacy finally lifted to head to speak, though it was not directed at anypony and spoken as a formality: “Come morning some of us will be noticed missing… We can’t just sit in here all night.”
“You’re being unusually quiet,” Heritor said with some restrained accusation, approaching Apostle from behind. “I take it this wasn’t part of your ingenious scheme?”
“No…” Apostle uttered quietly through his hoof. “It wasn’t.”
To the surprise of most, the door to the room creaked open, and in stepped Marley.
“Sweet heavens…” Grace gasped.
With his hood down about his shoulders, Marley’s once immaculate light-brown mane was now stark-white and standing on end. his face was stretched vertically as far as a pony might do so comfortably, emotionless, his mouth a small crease. His gaze was far away, focusing on nopony and yet encompassing them all in a single sweep.
Apostle and Legacy traded bewildered glances before the warlock shifted from his seat and glared at the returned stallion.
“Rotten Apple?” Apostle said, evoking his real name to elicit whatever sensibility remained in the stallion.
“The Master will see you now.” Rotten Apple said in a monotone, turning his neck and head with the speed of a creeping shadow. “Apostle.”
Grace and Mantle spun on him, Heretic snorted indignantly. Apostle spared only Heritor a brief, guarded side-glance.
The Master?
“Me?”
Rotten’s head tilted, “The Master requires your presence.”
With a long exhale to steady his nerve, Apostle stepped onward.
There was a definite chill in the draft as Apostle opened the door to the temple. Several sconces arranged around the circular chamber provided islands of light, with even further diminished radius’ of heat. A long-neglected chandelier chained high to the roof was alight from its many fingers with ghostly white flames. A marred crimson cloak hunched over the well like a gargoyle, its tattered and burned edges sprawled over the cobblestone floor. The peak of the barbed helm, Sombra’s red horn was the only aspect of the entity’s head that could be seen above the heap, the rest turned away from him.
Apostle paused at the threshold for a moment, then shut the door cautiously behind him, never taking his eyes off the thing that commanded his attendance. Taking in the room, there was nothing astray or object upset since they’d exited, save for the scattering of obsidian crystal shards at his hooves.
“Cum Þū hēr...” The voice of the entity hissed, tiny in comparison to the gargantuan bulk that dominated the center of the center of the temple.
Something in Apostle twitched to obey though he didn’t understand the words, his ears perking. But only for a tightened muscle in his throat to hold him back.
The being again spoke, “You will be unharmed, unicorn, come… come where I will see you.”
Tentatively and carefully, Apostle stepped his way through the spread of shards, moving to his left. The being Rotten Apple had called ‘The Master’ remained motionless, patient, waiting. When Apostle finally brought himself around, he could see the long, pointed metal face staring downwards, purple fumes wafting from the eyes.
Apostle stopped some paces away, presenting himself as a servant does before a lord.
“Tell me,” The Master began, his voice low, calm, gaze cast to the stone. “Hū hātte Þu?What is your name?”
“Apostle,” The nervous unicorn said sharply. “I am called Apostle.”
“Can you tell me, Apostle… What manner of creature am I? Iċ hātte?”
The question caught Apostle slightly off guard considering the terrifying declaration he had used the pseudonymous Marely to example. He swallowed before speaking.
“Don’t you know?” He asked with a narrowed stare. “You seemed quite certain of it before.”
There was a long, rasping breath before the being spoke again. The green and red eyes wavered, searching for a memory.
“Of my own identity I remember but dim shades… and whispers. Why… why am I here?”
“We… called upon the spirit of King Sombra, that you might champion our cause to overthrow the Alicorns.”
“Sssssssombra….” The being whispered, as if to recall the name of a long-forgotten acquaintance. “Yes… that wasss my name once.”
“And we called upon the spirit of The Nightmare,” Apostle continued. “That its power might bind and cohere Sombra’s essence into something greater than either.”
The Master’s helm tilted, a breath from the black void underneath. “And for what purpose do I now exist?”
“It is to avenge your destruction at the hooves of the Alicorns, and to return Equestria to the rightful dominion of the unicorns. To lead us.”
“Us? You speak of the others who were present?”
“Yes.” Sensing an opportunity to establish his influence, Apostle took a tentative step closer. “The Restoration Project, a group of ambitious unicorns with the vision and will to see these aspirations brought to fruition. A group with power, influence, access at the highest levels of society, all at your command.”
“Alicorns…” The room darkened around the Master, a creaking like wood boards under stress as the shadows grew. “Yessss…. I do remember them.” His eyes narrowed. “A dark one, and a light one.”
A sly smile began to grow at the corner of Apostle’s mouth, “That is why you are here. That is why we have summoned you: our avatar of vengeance, King Sombra.”
The groaning room relented, like a held breath being released, the lights resuming their glow. The Master lifted his gaze.
“Sombra… I do belong to that name but… he seems so far away now.”
“Just as Princess Luna was elevated and transformed by the power of the Nightmare, so thusly have you, your spirit super-amalgamated into a new, greater whole than before.”
“Is that what you presume this wraithish form to be? A transcendence beyond mortality?”
The Master looked aside, “Tell me, Apostle, if I were to smite you where you stand, do you think I would feel anything? Pleasure? Guilt? Satisfaction? Regret? Or have those emotions been destroyed in me, left behind with my body? With my heart?”
Apostle felt his teeth set against one another, “I wouldn’t presume… to know what you feel or are capable of feeling. I can only imagine the unique state of your existence, and what… possibilities now avail themselves to you as they never have before to anypony.”
The Master’s head drifted contemplatively, “I think you have the right of it. If this existence is a curse or a blessing, at the very least it presents us with an extraordinary opportunity. In fact: the more I consider it, the more of my mind returns to me. I think I’m beginning to remember…”
Leaping down from the well, cracks in the stone issued out from where the armored hooves of the Master struck. His shadow reshaping around him as if it were an extension of his own mind.
“Yes, I have glimpses of Luna, of the Cystal Palace. There was a purple unicorn and a… a small dragonling.” The last word said with a curious upturn.
“You did return for a brief period when the Crystal Empire came back.” Apostle informed him. “You were thwarted by Princess Twilight and her lackey.”
A long, hungry inhalation and the Master swept back, “I have been away for quite some time have I not? Beyond my fleeting reprise?”
“You have, just over one-thousand years.”
Plumes of fiery green magic went up from the points of the Master’s crown. “A thousand years… my malediction upon the Empire… The Crystal Princess.”
Moving his shape so that the fringes of his mantle flanked Apostle on either side, the Master stretched his body towards the ceiling, a dark wave poised to crash down over the unicorn.
The pincer maneuver did not escape a pony as perceptive as Apostle, and his eyes darted side-to-side as his hooves slid incrementally backwards. All the while he maintained a confident and appeasing façade.
What is this thing?
Green sclera glowed, and black pupils dialed vertically within the crimson irises, the Master’s wicked metal face bore down.
“Tell me, my kindred spirit: what is it you intend to gain from this endeavor? Power? Wealth? Perhaps the others seek revenge, but you don’t convince me of harboring such base motivation-” The helm darted forward, a nose-less sniff and hearty snap of invisible teeth. The Master spoke in a low hiss, “I would tassste it. So what is it that drives you to such unscrupulous methods as conjuring the dead?”
It was almost a compulsion for Apostle to lie, to conceal his true intentions. He’d certainly fallen back on it regularly enough. But something was pulling at him in this moment, an enchanting charisma in the glare of the Master’s eyes.
“The Princess…” Apostle whispered, mesmerized. “Luna, I would have her for my own.”
“Ahhhh…” Savoring the admission with a trailing gasp, the Master reigned himself back. “For love, the perennial inspiration.”
Apostle’s chest filled with a sudden breath as the spellbinding faded, startled by his own confession. He’d never put his desire into words before, it was thrilling to hear himself give it voice.
An armored hoof stomped down on the stone “I accept your proposal; I will lead your seditious cabal. And if your heart yearns so devotedly for the princess, so she shall be yours indeed.”
The unicorn felt his pulse quicken; heart palpitate.
The Master continued: “I expect you and the others will be of great service. And to protect our enterprise, you must refer to me only as ‘The Master’.”
“O- Of course.”
“You will inform the others of this; and relay that the true nature of my existence must not be revealed, under any circumstance.”
“Yes,” Apostle bowed his head nervously, still absorbing the situation. “Yes, Master.”
“Most important, my new acolyte, impress upon them that if I should uncover any schemes of treachery among their ranks: I shall find in them a subject to experiment the scope of my newfound capacities.”
A hard lump forced its way down the unicorn’s throat.
“And there is… one more task I require of you.”
Apostle lifted his face.
“Don’t struggle.”
Before Apostle could react, a red miasma engulfed the apex of the Master’s helm, and likewise surrounded the unicorn, taking him off his hooves. Restraining the wide-eyed warlock before him, the fumes of dark magic from the demon’s eyes were directed into Apostle’s open gaze, pouring into them.
“I have a thousand years of Equestrian history to apprise myself of, and having you recite what you know would be entirely too slow for my patience.”
Apostle stammered, unable to close his eyes, his mind rooted through with a voracious appetite.
The green sclera flashed, “So much has happened, so much has changed. But where… Where is Thule? How could you have no knowledge of it?”
For a few moments more the Master held him aloft, searching, growing more impatient. Until at last the magic dissipated, an insensible Apostle set back on the stone where he wobbled on weak legs.
“I don’t understand…” Leaving the unicorn to recover his senses, the Master strode across the chamber. “My kingdom… my kindred…”
Shaking loose the delirium and steadying his posture, Apostle, panting, made his way to the door as deliberately as he could without losing his balance.
One of the armored forelegs emerged from the void that was the Master’s body, where he beheld it with a new uncertainty: “Is whatever part of me that remains Sombra Ultima all that remains of my lineage?”
A loud clamor brought the revenant’s attention to see that the unicorn had shut the door after his exit. Leaving the Master in silence.
“Am I… Alone?”
CANTERLOT, today
Morning
Tapping a hoof on the edge of the table, Wanderlust continued to mull the spread of papers on the surface before him. The first rays of golden sun were streaking in through the curtains of his rented room, providing enough light for him to stare at the array of sketches he’d made from memory. Since returning to his lodging the previous night, he’d been taken by a restlessness brought on by the experience in the library. It had been the first time being among the artifacts of home since his exile from Thule.
He never realized how insulating it had been to put it all from his mind, to forestall the mental and emotional taxation. Though the many years had inured him to loss and granted a certain perspective, his throat still trembled to recall the likeness of his father and the side-by-side depictions of he and his brother. They were all gone now, and only a dusty, cobwebbed, room of forgotten relics was left to speak for the nobility and legacy of Thule.
To assuage his stress and move his energy onto something in the present, Wanderlust had occupied himself concerning the meaning of the magical formulae and symbols the mysterious mare he’d bumped into unintentionally shared with him. Recreating them as best he could, they unfortunately offered no clearer insight with time to ponder. As he’d noted to the mare, it called to mind the works of an obscure and ultimately unsuccessful unicorn mage, Equiephas Levi. Wanderlust had briefly explored the wizard’s work during a time when an interest in occultism had swept through unicorn high social-circles, something of a vogue.
A hoof curled against his cheek, his gaze rove methodically among the depictions, trying to decipher some pattern, some hint of revelation to be gleamed from the incomplete information. A nimbus of white magic brought a ceramic cup to his mouth, and with a short slurp, returned it to a side table. His other hoof reached out and drew one sheet closer, spinning it in alternate orientations. Try as he might nothing seemed to jog his considerable arcane dictionary.
“It's got to be a novel formula”. He muttered, scratching a hoof over the back of his neck. “What is this even supposed to do?”
He pondered them a moment more.
I could ask Twilight about it……. No, no I’ll keep this one for me.
Eventually a knock came at his door. Raising an eyebrow in its direction he used his magic to collect the papers into a roll and bound them with a length of twine. Stowing the bundle in his saddlebag, he approached the door.
“Hello?”
“Wake up call.” A stallion’s voice announced from the other side.
“Thank you.” He called back.
He’d arranged the service when he got back in, wanting to make a few stops before meeting up with Twilight and getting her to make-good on her end of the bargain. Wanderlust had made a good-faith effort to be her company to the ball, but magical countermeasures to Changeling infiltration threatened to expose his true identity. He just hoped the Princess wouldn’t hold it against him, and finally take him to the Alicorn Amulet. To think that after hundreds of years of searching for the last vestige of his brother’s dark magic, he might be forestalled by the technicalities of a quid-pro-quo.
In either case, despite his not wanting to spend more time in Canterlot than absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to waste his time in the shining city either. Gathering his saddlebags and a slinging a scarf around his neck, he set out for the day.
The mountain air at this altitude was immensely refreshing, crisp like stream water from a melting glacier. An atmosphere made further pleasant by the warmth of the sun beaming down on the streets and gleaming off the ivory and gold scheme of Canterlot. A wonderful exhilaration filled the immortal unicorn, his senses brought to a heightened state, a reminiscent feeling of life and vitality.
This was Wanderlust’s third day in Canterlot, and though he had explored some portion of it, there remained much he wanted to see. Of particular interest to him, were the library and the Historical Society. Being an artifact himself, he was curious to interrogate the royal version of historical events, such as they recorded them. Then perhaps if time allowed, do some souvenir shopping.
The temptation of absconding with his father’s bust was still a consideration.
Entering the section of the city hosting the Royal facilities, he was curious to see that many of the Crown’s guards were particular in their patrols, as if they expected to find something out of the ordinary and were in the process of rooting it out.
In this way, it was when Wanderlust passed a troop of guards at an intersection that one of them at last caught notice of him.
“Say there,” A voice called out, catching Wanderlust in mid-step.
He twisted his head and found a trio of pristine guards crossing the avenue in his direction.
“Gentlecolts,” Wanderlust began, putting himself in a neutral posture. “Have I breached the peace this morning already?”
The Unicorn in the lead, a burly white stallion chuckled at the good humor.
“Not to worry, friend, the peace remains unbroken. I am Lieutenant Mantle, this is Aketon, and this is Salvo.” He said with a happy tone, gesturing to his compatriots in turn.
“You are Wanderlust then?” The officer continued, offering a hoof which Wanderlust accepted. “Princess Twilight’s companion?”
“I am,” The wanderer admitted with some moderate apprehension. “I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”
“Indeed not,” Mantle clarified, “Princess Twilight and I are old associates. She caught up with me yesterday and said that you had an interest in learning more about the Royal Guard.”
“Ah, yes, I had mentioned it after crossing paths with some of your diligent and obliging comrades at the train station.”
“Might I ask if this was in regards to employment or some other inclination? You certainly look like you could fill a set of barding quite nicely.”
Wanderlust expressed a slight smile and polite laugh. “A matter of historical interest, actually, a hobby really. You see I’m making a study of the different martial traditions to be found in Equestria. Canterlot is an ideal place to research the foundations of the E.U.P., and observe the modern techniques at practice.”
The faces of the guards seemed to brighten to hear the admiration for their vocation, and appreciation for the martial.
“Though regrettably I have only one more day to spend in your grand city.” Wanderlust said with a hint of melancholy. “I’m back on the train tomorrow morning.”
Mantle traded glances with Aketon and Salvo. “Normally we wouldn’t invite civilians into our little guild, but since we share such a trustworthy mutual acquaintance… Why don’t you stop by the barracks this evening, ask for me, and I’ll give you a tour.”
A surprisingly good turn, Wanderlust nodded with a grin and extended his hoof in thanks. “That sounds excellent, I’ll make a point of it.”
The two sides parted ways with an exchange of nods and courtesies, Mantle glancing back over his shoulder.
After a casual breakfast at an upscale café, Wanderlust managed to recognize his way back to the neighborhood of the Historical Society. It was still early in the day, so the ‘closed’ sign hanging on the other side of the door was fairly expected. Fortunately, the open hours were listed, giving him plenty of time to come back later.
He was on course for the Royal Library when an elegant buggy barreled in front of him just as he was about to cross a street, forcing him to rear back at the last moment.
“Eyes open drivers!” He barked at the pair of stallions hauling the carriage.
They paid him no notice at first, but some signal from their fare brought them to a quick halt. The nearer stallion faced him with an unhappy glare but remained in his yoking. But a head did pop out of the curtained window, the familiar face of Fleur de Lis with a wrathful sneer, her previously exquisite mane betraying signs of inattention. Though initially she was upset, once she recognized Wanderlust her expression changed to one of forbearance, even a tinge of relief.
“Sorry about that Percival,” She said with a constrained politeness. “I told them not to take any breaks. As you can see, I’m a frightful mess and was in a hurry.”
Willing to forgive, Wanderlust returned an understanding nod, “Oh, that many a mare wished to be as frightful as you on their best day.”
The compliment took her a few moments to decipher, but when she did, a smile did manage to crack through her demeanor. Fleur’s ears perked to some sound inside the carriage, and she turned her face to the side.
“It’s that fellow from the other night, Princess Twilight’s friend.” She said over her shoulder.
Another moment, and she brought her smile back to Wanderlust.
“Do excuse us friend, lovely to see you but we must be on our way.”
“Bien sûr, madame,” He dipped, accenting with a flared hoof. “’til next time.”
Her smile then was matched by an inviting gleam in her eyes as the carriage pulled away. She lingered on him a few seconds longer before slipping back into the cart.
When she had departed, Wanderlust couldn’t help but feel a bit more confident about himself, and he continued on with a jaunty trot.
“Still got it.”
The library felt quite different than it had the other night. Filled with waterfalls of sunlight and the traffic of happy visitors, the weighty solemnity of the night atmosphere was displaced by an inspiring and uplifting aesthetic. Three stories of shelves packed with books, paintings and sculptures placed throughout created a space of timeless knowledge, where the transience of the outside might be kept at bay to preserve the wisdom of history inscribed across millions of pages.
Wanderlust entered the main hall and was compelled by the grandeur to sit down and stare upwards. He spent a minute in the enchantment, wearing an unpretentious smile.
“Now this… this I wouldn’t mind coming back for.”
“Need help finding anything, sir?” A chipper voice asked. It belonged to an approaching Earth Pony stallion, brown fur with a striking yellow mane.
“Just admiring the place,” Wanderlust said, rising to his hooves. “You work here?”
“Highlight.” The happy staffer thrust out a forehoof.
“Percival” Wanderlust gave, matching the gesture. “Yes, I suppose you can help me. It’s my first time in the city actually, and I was interested in the old histories.”
Highlight’s face brightened at the prospect of being useful, “Really? Well, right this way.”
“Any specific topic you’re interested in?” Highlight led the way as the two ascended one of the curved staircases that spiraled through the stories. “Food? Farming? Notable figures? We have the largest collection in Equestria; only the Chystal Empire rivals the Royal Library.”
“I was hoping for histories of Canterlot; its settlement, early events, personal accounts and so forth.”
“Sure, plenty of works on that, but the Historical Society will have most of the primary sources.”
“I was also hoping to do some research in the arcana section; especially the occult and other obscure disciplines.”
This paused Highlight in stride, “Occult? What would you wanna look at that kinda spooky stuff for?”
“Call it a curiosity.” Wanderlust suggested as they resumed their walk. “Nothing serious.”
Highlight shrugged. “If you say so.”
CANTERLOT PALACE
“Good Morning, Twilight.”
Waiting in the sunlit hall, Princess Celestia smiled warmly at the sight of her junior alicorn, happy as always to see the future of Equestria. It was a relief she couldn’t put into words after the tension this morning.
“Gooood morning, Princess Celestia!” Twilight Sparkle chirped as she met her mentor and they shared a hug.
“So how was last night?” The alabaster alicorn probed with restrained excitement. “How was your date?”
A rosy hue flushed into Sparkle’s cheeks as her wings fluttered involuntarily and she diverted her eyes.
“Huh?” Celestia, nudged her with a hoof. “First a dance at the ball and then an evening out…”
“It was really nice.” Twilight said with a dreamy air. “Flash was a perfect gentlecolt.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Draping a wing around Twilight, Celestia coaxed her to follow. Come, I’d like you to attend morning court with me. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to observe how these things go, and for them to see you taking an interest in capitol affairs.”
“Yeah I suppose, it all comes with the ‘Princess Package’ huh?”
“Afraid so. Besides, morning court is usually such an ordeal to get through, you’d be doing me a huge favor giving me somepony to share the load with.”
Sparkle chuckled, “Happy to help.”
They were just at the pair of doors which opened to the courthall, when a bound scroll manifested in a puff of dazzling magic beside Celestia’s head. By the nature of the magic’s composition and the styling of the ribbon wound about the parchment, she knew it to be a missive from Princess Cadence far to the north.
“News from the Crystal Empire?” Twilight asked with expectant glee as Celestia took hold of the scroll. “What’s Cadence up to?”
Celestia stared at the rolls of the letter a moment before responding. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ahead, dear, I’ll be in in a minute.”
Through she was clearly curious, Twilight deferred to her judgement. “Alright.”
After Sparkle was through and the doors shut behind her, Celestia untied the ribbon and let the fine calligraphy reveal itself:
Dear Aunt Celestia,
I hope you and auntie Luna are well, but I cannot say the same of myself this morning. Sometime in the night I awoke with a terrible sense of dread and an apprehension that I couldn’t shake no matter how I tired or what Shining Armor did to comfort me. I don’t know if it means anything more than a terrible dream I can’t remember or something that disagreed with my stomach, but it didn’t leave me until your sun finally made itself known over the Empire.
Perhaps it is nothing to fear after all and merely the infrequent creature of a bad night’s sleep. But there is something about it that lingers like an ache in my breast.
I write in hopes that you can offer some soothing insight or words of resolution one more time for me, that I might draw strength and inspiration from your guidance as I have before.
Your Loving Niece,
Cadence.
Celestia swallowed a lump, bundling the scroll back with its ribbon and tucking it away.
The solar Princess entered the hall with a quiet grace, giving out polite nods as she passed by. Twilight was waiting for her atop the dais, engaged in conversation with one of the guards. At a glance, she noticed that some of the court regulars were absent this morning. A curious but welcome notion as they rarely came for no better reason that to collect material for gossip and politicking.
She assumed her throne with a stoic fluidity, taking in the crowd that had assembled in the hall. Likewise, she noticed Twilight was giving her an inquiring look.
“How did you sleep last night, Twilight? Any issues?”
Sparkle thought for a moment but shook her head. “I got in a little late, fell right asleep.”
Greeting the news with a smile, Celestia pursed her lips. “Good.”
With a flick of the wing in the direction of the spear-wielding guard at the base of the stairs, she gave the signal to begin today’s petitions.
The guard knocked the butt of his spear against the floor three times and spoke in a loud and clear voice: “THE COURT OF PRINCESS CELESTIA IS NOW IN SESSION…”
Elsewhere in Canterlot…
Dragging himself out of the taxi carriage with no slight amount of weariness, Apostle hefted his luggage in his magic and began the dreary process of hoofing his way to the door of the chateau on loan to him for the time being. With only fragmented sleep on the ride to satiate his body’s desire to rest, he was in a shabby state to be seen. The Master had given them leave to depart shortly after Apostle’s retelling of his instructions. None of them were keen to linger.
I shall have to procure a servant of some kind once I have a permanent residence. He grumbled in his head, dragging his bag a pace behind.
Not two paces from the door, a voice called out to him from above.
“Unpleasant night, unicorn?”
The bleary eyes of Apostle snapped up to see the indomitable thestral perched on the apex of the house, adorned in the raptoral helm of the Lunar Guard.
Apostle stifled a snarl, “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging upside-down at this hour, Commander?” Plopping his bag on the walkway beside, he fished for the door key in the pockets of his cloak.
Leo Nightus gave no sign of disturbance. “I see I am not the only one to keep odd hours. Might I ask where you have been last night, Apostle, and what business you have been about? Only as a matter of security, you understand.”
“I have been about my own business, Commander Nightus,” Apostle restrained his irritation. “Out of town on something personal.”
He produced the key and fixed it in the lock, and spoke again with a slight growl. “If you will excuse me, Commander, I am really quite tired and simply don’t have the energy to bandy insinuations with you.”
The door unlocked and Apostle kicked it open, stepping inside. He turned to take his bag but found Leo Nightus descended and standing beside it.
“Then I will be brief: I have learned to trust my instincts about other ponies, and they tell me that you reek of ulterior motives and obsequious schemes. I don’t like you.”
“Unfortunate, Commander,” Taking up his bag, Apostle set it inside and squared with the glowering thestral. “But your praise is not required for me to do my job. Perhaps in time, we will be more amenable to one another.”
The door shut with a CLACK!, only a few inches from Leo’s beak. An angry snort from underneath, and the Lunar Knight was off.
“Obsequious”. Apostle mocked with ireful hiss. He stood in place for several moments in the darkened room, eyes closed. “Don’t let him distract you. Remember why you’re here.”
In short order his cloak was hung and in lieu of trudging to the bedroom, he collapsed on the couch and covered himself with a throw-blanket. From a small purse kept among his things, he drew out a silver chain with a cobalt pendant and slipped it over his neck. He lay there on his back for a time, tired as he was, unable to keep his eyes closed, not while he was surrounded by so much shadow. His eyes searched each corner of the room, every crevice and under-surface, looking for a set of glowing eyes to be leering. Swallowing a lump of nerve, he reached out with his magic and switched on the side-table lamp, giving him at least some buffer of illumination.
Feeling some ease at last, he shut his eyes an felt the tide of sleep rise up to claim him.
The next thing he knew, he was a colt again. The barn was chilly in the autumn weather, and he was watching his father at work on the wheel of the cart while he lay with an open book in the hay. The title and content of the book were a blur, but he knew it was something his father had procured for him from a traveling salespony and charged to absorb its knowledge. It was arduous reading and somewhat above his comprehension, but still he worked through it.
His father had wanted him within sight to make sure he was being dutiful instead of frittering away his afternoon at play or daydreaming. Mother had been the one to advocate for his time to play and frivolity; but with her gone, father had put a severe curtailing on such silliness. Father had changed in many ways since her departing.
He looked up and observed his father’s attention to detail as he repaired the broken wheel, a methodical mind, something that might have been more formidable given the right education.
An icy-blue stare cut in his direction through the spokes of the wheel and locked on his for a fraction of a second. He immediately sunk his face back into the pages and began speed reading through the script. In the next second, his father was beside him settled down into the straw and gazing off into the woodland hills. Though nothing was spoken, it was a comfort he hadn’t expected.
But as he stared into the book, a darkness overtook him, blooming out of the pages until it was a tunnel that he was moving through. He didn’t want to be there but nothing else seemed to exist, farther and farther he went. Then like a colossal wave a darkness swept up before him, and he felt he was on the crest of something indescribable.
Then he was awake. Apostle came to consciousness with a sharp snort and foul taste in his mouth. He couldn’t recall the last thing he ate or drank. The shine was gone from the outside, and he parted a curtain to discover it was now evening, the day already spent. Drawing a hoof over his face to exercise the muscles, he found his way to the sink of the kitchenette and used magic to funnel water from the faucet over his head. Watching the pendant sway like a metronome, the gears of his mind began to churn like the swelling momentum of a train engine. He would have to make his way to the palace shortly, and he needed his wits about him.
There was also the matter of what to do about the infernal specter now coiling in the Well of Shade. The deviousness of King Sombra had few historical comparison; and now that it possessed the greater perceptions of the Nightmare phantasm, there was no telling what strategies were incubating in the dark intelligence.
“No turning back now.” He said to his reflection in the draining water.
Earlier…
The library search had been somewhat fruitful for Wanderlust. There was a bit more on Equiephas Levi and a few other more obscure dabblers in the arcane. Some were little better than hoaxsters who used common parlor tricks to entertain the gullible for a few bits here and there. A few however, a few were genuine devotees who wanted to delve into new scopes of magic.
Before when he looked into Levi’s work, he took him as a pony who was scratching around for something that would catch on, catapulting him to acclaim and status. The records here included the observations of educated Canterlot arcanists, which jived with his own appraisal; the consensus among them being that Equiephas’ research seemed to have elements of conjuration but taken in a direction nopony could make sense of. He had labored on his magnum opus until his final days, never managing to unlock the complete theory. If he ever penned a grimoire detailing his efforts, nopony ever found it.
Whoever this mare ‘Heritor’ was, she was perfectly entitled to indulge her interest in this strange magic. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to be concerned about. There was something queer about the matter that stuck with Wanderlust like gum on a hoof.
The Canterlot Historical Society was a quiet, fairly humble place nestled in among the larger structures of the neighborhood. No advertisements or ornate banners, just a respectable front with the title chiseled into the stone overhead.
A small bell chimed as he entered into what more resembled a high-class lounge area; furniture of dark-stained wood with cushions of deep reds, blues, greens. The room was decorated with elegant table lamps and paintings of posh ponies from years past, well-maintained carpeting over hardwood floors. It dawned on him that this was less of a research facility and more of a social club, the kind where the wealthy and aloof sat around and discussed the great figures of the ages.
Now that he put a thought to it, it sounded like a place he might like to hang out for a while.
In fact, one older Earth Pony stallion was reclined in a high-back chair with a tasteful pipe puffing in the corner of his mouth, an open newspaper splayed on a stand for ease of reading. He spared Wanderlust a dismissive glance before returning to his articles.
“Kay…” Wanderlust said to himself.
There was a hall on the opposite side of the room that led, presumably, to other rooms of indeterminate purpose. As he neared it, a door opened down on the right, where a unicorn mare with an unkempt mane of red and purple pinched-up in a knot stepped into view. Wearing a deep purple sweater, she was rubbing a hoof over her brow as she blearily informed her visitor.
“Sorry sir or ma’am, we’re not accepting membership applications without a member sponsor. You’ll have to come back wh-”
It was then she finally put her eyes on Wanderlust as he idled by the desk, drawing a deep breath from behind her conspicuous glasses.
“Apologizes,” He said with a nod, “I wasn’t aware this was a private club.”
“No, I uh,” Fretting with her hair as she came closer, she extended her hoof. I’m Moon Dancer.”
“A pleasure,” As typical, Wanderlust took her hoof, twisted it down, and kissed the cornet.
When he looked up, he found Moon Dancer staring at him as if he’d just removed his own head and continued talking.
“Ah… Okay.” She retracted her hoof with a gulp. “Well, may I ask what brought you in here today, Mr….?”
He let his mouth hang open with a smile as he measured which name to offer, “Sable, call me Sable. I’m a bit of a history buff, and I was interested in perusing the material you have on Canterlot’s founding, preferably first-hoof accounts.”
Moon Dancer seemed to perk up, blinking; “Well, even if you were a member, those kind of pieces require some prep time for proper treatment and supervision. I’m afraid they’re not something we can just drag out at a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m going to be leaving in the-”
It was then he remembered something…
“Say, Chancellor Fancy Pants wouldn’t happen to be a member, would he?”
She caught a frog in her throat for a moment, “I, well, if he was, I mean, I couldn’t-”
Seeing the question elicit an unexpected reaction, he decided to change track; “Or he at least knows somepony who is, I’ll bet.”
This at least eased her into coherency. “The Chancellor is a very connected pony, probably, yes.”
“Well, since we’re acquainted, I’ll have to put in a word with him, see if that gets me anything.”
“You know the Chancellor?”
“Only just, I met him and his… companion? Fleur de Lis the other night at the Masquerade.”
“At the Princess’ ball?” Now Moon Dancer’s interest was genuinely piqued. “How’d you get in there?”
“I was a guest of Princess Twilight. I’ve just moved into Ponyville, and-”
“Twilight… Sparkle?” She asked, face pitched slightly aside, this time with a bit of a grind to her tone.
“The one and only. Hey, maybe she’s a member, I’ll ask her.”
“You do that.” Like a switch, Moon Dancer’s demeanor changed from curious to satisfied, and she used her magic to open the front door as she cajoled him in its direction.
“But I’m afraid well be closed tomorrow, be sure to come back when you have the appropriate sponsorship. Until then, this is a private establishment.”
Despite the size difference between the stallion and the bookish mare, she succeeded in maneuvering him to the threshold.
“Thank you for your, time, maybe-”
“Have a good day, sir.” She bid him.
Suddenly, Wanderlust found the door an inch from his nose.
“Well, she was helpful.”
Canterlot Castle
“Come in.”
Sitting at her desk, the head librarian of the Royal Library, Biblio File, glanced up from her work to where an expected guest was entering the room.
Flash Sentry doffed his helmet as he stepped in, closing the door respectfully behind him. A smallish room hosted the librarian’s needs, shelves of books, a trilogy of filing cabinets, what one might describe as an organized clutter with her business desk set near to the back wall.
“Ms. File, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, Flash, please have a seat.” She gestured with a hoof to the empty swivel chair on the other side of her desk, simultaneously sweeping her papers aside into a stack.
“I had an idea for us.” She began, plucking a sheet of parchment from one of her desk’s compartments.
He took the seat with enough momentum to spin around once before stopping himself. “To do what?”
“Over the past few days I have been compiling my list of ponies with the level of access needed to become familiar with the operations of the Starswirl wing. I have also taken note of any of these ponies who have exhibited, for lack of a better word, suspicious behavior recently.”
From Flash’s seat, he could see several names circled in red, while others had a line cutting through them, only a few with no markings.
“That’s a lot of names. Any of them stick out to you yet?”
“Some more than others.” She leaned back in her chair, “But I can only do so much, I need you on the other end of this.”
Flash tilted his head to the ceiling and groaned, “Why do I keep getting picked for this undercover stuff? Is it because I can fly?”
“Because Celestia trusts you, and I trust her.” She slid the parchment across to him and spun it around.
“Gee-yikes,” He said, scrolling the list, plucking it up with his feather-tips and holding up. “You’re telling me one of these ponies is behind all this? These are some… important names.”
“It’s likely more than one, possibly several.”
His face shot up in disbelief, “Several?”
“I don’t believe that a single individual could manage all this without some type of help or coordination.”
Flash seemed sick at the notion, looking again to the list. “But we still don’t know why anypony would want to do this. I mean… Who would want to do this to Princess Celestia?”
“Modus Operandi, Mr. Sentry.” Biblio steepled her hooves in the desk. “There are three questions we must solve if we want to unravel this mystery: motive, means, and opportunity. That list can help solve two of those, once we discern a motive, we can triangulate the culprits.”
Flash put the list down and fixed her with a furrowed expression. “You know, you seem a little overqualified to be a librarian.”
She gave a tight smile. “It pays to be as well-read as I am. Now what I’d like you to do, Mr. Sentry, since you have patrols overnight, is maintain your own account of suspicious behavior, comings and goings.”
“I’m little surprised to not see any Thestrals on here. They weren’t the biggest fans of Celestia for a while.”
Biblio made a smacking sound with her tongue and glanced to the side. “Historically, yes, and it was something I considered. But since Luna’s return, they’ve been as loyal to Canterlot as anypony could be. They’re a martial race; honor-bound; this kind of skullduggery would be anathema to them. Plus, we both know the Starswirl wing is guarded by Celestia’s own, day and night.”
Tossing the list down, Sentry sighed. “I know we have to keep this quiet, but I’d like to bring Commander Nightus on board.”
“I considered seeking Leo’s help, but it’s not his loyalty I doubt, it’s his temperament. If he gets wind that we’re looking internally for our suspects, he may very well turn Canterlot upside down; forcing our culprits to entrench deeper or scatter to the winds in the process. But tapping into the Thestrals rumor mill is a good idea, their own gossip streams are usually impregnable. Any of them you trust?”
He nodded, “Lieutenant Morgana is a friend, I can approach her. I think she likes me.”
Biblio File gave him a sidelong smirk as she tucked away her list of names. “See what you can dig up, find me tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
Flash stood from his seat and started for the door.
“Oh, Flash, one more thing.” File said, suddenly remembering. She reached over to a stack of books to her back left and extracted a tome that was wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine.
“Give this to Princess Twilight before she leaves in the morning.”
He came forward to take it, but she retracted it at the last second, “You do plan to see her before she leaves, don’t you?”
Flash’s face scrunched. “So Princess Celestia has gotten to you too, huh?” He accepted the book with faux indignity and departed.
“See you tomorrow, Ms. File.”
She watched him leave with only the faintest trace of amusement showing through her passive façade. When he was gone however, she fell back into something more severe.
Elsewhere in Canterlot…
“There you are!”
Spotting the incognito immortal, Twilight Sparkle trotted up to him as he idled by a statue of an armored pegasus. “Good afternoon, Wanderlust. I hope your day has been more interesting than mine.”
“I’d put it at more of a ‘slightly enlightening.” He said with a small nod to greet her. “But, now comes the real prize, Princess.”
“I know.” She set her jaw firm and met his gaze. “I made a promise and I intend to stick by it. But you do still owe me something.”
Wanderlust almost felt his knees collapse underneath him with a dramatic sigh, closing his eyes. “I was worried you might say that. Is there any way it can wait until after we get the Amulet?”
Twilight hesitated, drawing out his anticipation. “Sure. When we get back to Ponyville, you teach me how to cast fire.”
His face opened with pleasant surprise, “Yes! Absolutely!”
“And tell me stories about your adventures.”
Wanderlust sputtered a bit, less enthusiastic about this condition. “I, yeah, okay, we can do that.”
As giddy as a school-filly she leapt in place and clicked her back-hooves together. “Yes!”
“I’ll regale you with my many tales of swashbuckling and epic adventure, now can we please go get this Amulet?”
He was serious now, and it brought her back down to earth. “I have spent lifetimes searching for this thing so that I might rectify the evil my brother did. This one last thing, Twilight, it’s the only thing I have left.”
“Alright.” Sparkle nodded, putting away her excitement. “Let’s do this.”
Wanderlust was taken aback by the scope of Twilight’s old room. Part library, part observatory but with a degree of adolescent untidiness, it was a curious insight into the nascent alicorn.
“You had quite the space here.” He remarked, impressed.
Twilight ducked her head with a sheepish smile. “I uh, spent a lot of time by myself. I was a very different pony when I lived here.”
“Well, we all come from somewhere, Princess. My father wouldn’t let me spend idle time in my room when I was a colt. Too much to learn, too much to train.”
Twilight paused, and the two were side by side.
“What was he like, your father?”
He appraised her for a contemplative breath before a shroud of green flame consumed Wanderlust, leaving Æclypse in his stead.
“Efficient. If I had to put it in a single word.” Going over to an astrolabe that would peer out a double-window, he wobbled it. “He was not an unloving father, but he conducted his parenthood as he did most of his matters: with kingly poise. In his instruction and in that of our tutors, we learned the nature of philosophy, war, leadership, and history. It was my mother who, for us, was the source of affection and all things gentle and kindhearted. For with her we were taught the arts of poetry, music, of things that grow and the turnings of the earth and sky.”
“I could tell you have a romantic disposition. Artistically, I mean.” Twilight clarified.
Æclypse went over to an hourglass as large as he and upended the bottom, starting the downward cascade of white sand. “I was always a little embarrassed by it. Maybe it was my father’s conservative temper rubbing off on me, but I never got comfortable with long-winded prose or flowery lyrics.”
After a soft exhale he continued, turning his gaze to an array of scientific baubles and implements decorating a turquoise hutch. “Sombra, however… my brother had a powerful gift with words. Despite his peculiarities he…” Æclypse’s words faltered, and he choked something down.
“…He could have been so great.”
The two were silent for a second as the immortal collected his emotions and put them in their appropriate place.
“Let us have the Amulet and be done with it.”
Twilight fluttered to the upper leagues of her bookshelves, and there moved to one section, parting the volumes.
“After we got it off Trixie, I had Zecora put an enchantment on the box so that any ambient effects of the magic would be contained.”
Behind the books, Twilight’s magic unveiled a false compartment that slid outwards like a drawer.
“I wasn’t sure what else the Amulet might be capable of, we only had a brief description from my book.”
A small wooden chest was lifted from the drawer, the outside of it inscribed with arcane glyphs. The lock mechanism partitioned horizontally was unified by a complex symbol of curving lines across both halves.
“As soon as we get this back to Zecora, she can crack the enchantment and we-”
“No need.” Taking the chest for himself in his magic, Æclypse held it aloft to inspect. “It would take a considerably powerful spell to keep this box closed from me. I’ve studied magic all over the world, I know my Zebraic quite well enough.”
Twilight watched with rapt interest to see his horn beam with white energy as his gaze bore down on the box. He began reciting an incantation in a whispered voice, a language she didn’t understand but presumed to be the aforementioned tongue of the Zebra tribes.
One by one the glyphs carved into the wood began to glow with the same light, like the links of a chain being undone in sequence. This continued for a minute until at last the symbol etched over the lock illuminated, and with a puff of glittering magic, was dispelled.
“You have so much to teach me.” A fascinated Sparkle said.
Now unlocked, Æclypse beheld the chest, giving himself one more deep breath before he opened it.
“Finally.”
He opened the box, and found it empty.
/
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Sweet Jeebus... YOU'RE ALIVE!! Oh thank heavens. I've been waiting for this story to update!
11206307
Contrary to popular opinion, i am still alive, yes. Glad to have you back.