The Lyrist and The Tempest

by Valiant wind

Chapter 2

The paths in the mountains were always much longer than they looked like. The sun had sunk beneath the hills when Lyra reached Momento’s gate. On the road’s two sides stood two worn wooden pillars, forming a dome above her. There was a small signpost hanging from it:

Welcome to Memento, the heritage of the ancient moon

When she passed the gate, Lyra was suddenly struck by a bolt of familiarity. She gazed down upon the street in front of her. Two lanes of two-storied wooden households lined the street’s two sides, all of them suspended from the ground by wooden logs—a traditional design employed by ponies living in the Southern regions of Equestria to avoid moisture. The distant end of the path opened up into a round plaza, in its center stood a tall statue. Lyra had no memories of these sceneries, yet somehow she was very certain that she had been here before. There was a nostalgic sense to the smell of the air here that just made the town feel like home.

She went up to the plaza, hoping to find a road sign that could point the way for her. The statue turned out to be even larger than it had looked like, a life-size depiction of an elegant alicorn. Lyra saw the crescent moon cutie mark on the statue’s flank and realized that the statue’s subject was none other than Princess Luna. It was a rare sight out of Canterlot, as the Princess of the Moon had been forgotten by most ponies of Equestria in her thousand years of absence. Memento must be one of those few towns Luna had liberated during the royal sisters’ long journey of reclaiming Equestria from the beasts of Tartarus.

No wonder I’d always favored Princess Luna more than her sister, Lyra smiled secretly, I was born in a town bestowed by her grace…

Then she saw a road post below the statue made up of large arrows pointing towards the many streets leading away from the plaza. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a brown envelope, double-checking the address written in its center:

No. 3 Moonlit Avenue, Memento, South Equestria

The arrow with the words “Moonlit Avenue” led her to a narrow alley opposite from the one she had walked out of. She saw No.3 as soon as she was at the alley’s entrance: a canopy of green leaves and white flowers sprouted out between the second and the fourth plain wooden houses in front of her. At first, she thought that her destination was a treehouse, but soon discovered in awe that it was actually a similar wooden household with a huge tree growing through it. The planks making up the house were of a purplish-black, appearing to be much older than the brown barks covering the other households. A branch of the tree went directly through the top of the door frame, and on its tip hung a large signboard:

The Cosmetic Balcony

Library & Bookstore

Open from sunrise to sunset (including weekends！)

Lyra’s heart started pumping. She was so close now--the sender of the letter, the one who had claimed to have found a legacy of her mother, her past, everything.

Maybe…maybe I should come tomorrow…find a place to settle for the night first…she thought nervously, it’s—it’s already past sunset…whoever owns this place must be asleep...

Yet she still raised a hoof and quickly knocked on the door, hot blood pumping into her skull. She had waited sixteen years for this, for Celestia’s sake! Anticipation was already scorching over her rationality. She couldn’t possibly deter this any longer.

A round of harsh hoofsteps came from inside the house. A small piece of wood slid away from the door, revealing a small peek hole, and Lyra found herself faced by a pair of sleepy bright, violet eyes.

“Sorry, we are closed,” the voice sounded young, about the same as her age, “if you’d like to return a book, you can come tomorrow. There will be no additional payments within twenty-four hours.”

Lyra heard a yawn, and the wood hatch was switched back, shutting the peek hole with a resounding “click”.

“Wait!” She called out, front hoof tapping the dirt, “I—I’m not here to return a book! I’m Lyra Heartstrings! I received your letter!”

The hatch was immediately reopened. The eyes leaned close to the peeking hole, scanned her from head to tail, then curled up into two joyful crescents:

“Oh! Thank goodness! Just a second!”

There was the sound of turning locks, and the door sprung open. Lyra flinched in surprise.

The creature standing in front of her was one she’d only heard in myths and legends. Her front body resembled that of an eagle, with a golden beak and a pair of golden talons, covered in feathers that are a mixture of white and grey, while her lower body reminded Lyra of a lion she’d once seen at a circus in Canterlot.

“Never expected to see a griffon in this part of Equestria, huh?” the griffon raised a claw to her beak and giggled, “don’t worry, I get that a lot. Quick, come in!”

Lyra’s nostril was met by the pleasant scent of ink and paper as soon as she was led into the house—tall bookcases took up almost every space her eyes could catch, and the room was like a circular maze of books and scrolls surrounding the trunk of the tree in the middle. Branches, vines, and roots covered the house’s walls, converging into a natural dark green ceiling above them. The room was dimly lit by a few green lamps hanging from the ceiling, and there was a small piece of glowing crystal installed in the center of every bookcase, illuminating the books’ titles. It was like a more classical and mysterious version of the Golden Oak Library back in Ponyville. The griffon whirled through the bookcases and stopped in front of a small table at the foot of the tree, adeptly pulling out a teapot and two wooden cups.

“My name’s Nightjar--So Mrs. Heartstrings really had a daughter!” she said enthusiastically, “I mean—I’ve known her since I was a hatchling, but I never knew!”

“It’s kind of a surprise for me as well, to be honest,” Lyra replied as joyfully as she could manage, “I’ve always thought I was born of a terrible magical accident or something…”

“The ponies of the orphanage told me everything,” Nightjar nodded sympathetically, “Sorry about that. It must’ve been quite hard.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lyra smirked. Even she couldn’t tell if it was truthful, “I did have quite a few friends.”

“I can see that,” Nightjar laughed happily, looking into her eyes, “don’t worry. I’m sure Mrs. Heartstrings isn’t the kind of pony that would just randomly abandon her fillies,” she laid a front claw onto Lyra’s shoulder, “and I’m willing to help you figure out whatever has happened! Wait here, I’ll go fetch what I found.”

Whatever has happened… Lyra watched Nightjar swooping away, disappearing above a staircase in the room’s corner. She wanted so badly to believe what she had said, but…

Mother…what could have made you throw me away? Her heart was knitted again.

Your very own and only daughter?

Nightjar soon returned. She gently put what she had brought—a small black box and a tattered, yellow envelope—onto the table.

“Here—I found them when I was cleaning the attics. Mom must’ve forgotten them there when she left the town. I wanted to fly to Canterlot and hand them to you myself, but—” she glanced back at her body, smiling in embarrassment, “—as you can see, my wings aren’t in their… most convenient state.”

It was only by this time when Lyra discovered that Nightjar had only one wing. The left side of her body was covered by a huge wing made up of long, straight, pure black feathers, while there was only a single small grey stub left on the right side, exposing her fluffy, white chest feathers. She winced when she found that the edge of that stub was round and in the shape of a joint, meaning that whatever had taken Nightjar’s right wing had brutally torn it off her body.

“Thanks for that,” she said calmly, suppressing her shock and her urge to inquire, “I mean, for not coming to get me, because I no longer live in Canterlot,” she took the envelope with her magic. The envelope, along with anything written on it, had lost its color, but the bold, artistic inscription on its front was still distinguishable: To Mrs. Duskhawk and Miss Nightjar, “I live in Ponyville now.”

“Ponyville?” Nightjar’s eyes lit up, her wing half-opened, “wow! You mean with Twilight Sparkle and the other elements of harmony? That’s so cool!”

“What if I tell you Twilight Sparkle was once my classmate?” Lyra smirked while delicately maneuvering her magic, slowly opening the envelope, “we went to the same school in Canterlot. We were quite close.”

“Was she like, awesome back then, or it was only after she became the element of magic?” Nightjar said, interested.

“She was like a magic-casting machine—teleporting everywhere at the age of twelve…I doubt even Starswirl couldn’t achieve that,” Lyra took out the letter paper and floated it in front of her eyes.

“What does it say?” Nightjar asked.

“Please return this box and its inclusions to my daughter, Lyra Heartstrings…” Lyra read. She shifted her gaze towards the box on the table, “huh…”

“Ohhh, Mrs. Heartstring must’ve left you something!” Nightjar fluttered her wing, “I guess it’s a music box!”

She pulled the box in front of her and, with all her courage left, slowly removed its lid. Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she got a look at what’s inside—a bronze key in the shape of a tree, lying on a layer of regal red wool.

Reflectively her front hooves reached into her saddlebag for the stone box and then immediately realized that it was impossible. The key was almost as large as her hooves. It was meant for a much bigger lock than the one on her box. She carefully grasped the key with her magic, raising it between her and Nightjar.

“This…” she muttered.

“Hey, I know what this is!” Nightjar blurted, “it’s the key to your mom’s treehouse!”

“Mom owns a treehouse here?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah! I used to play there a lot when I was younger!” Nightjar nodded, “you have to head out of the East exit and follow the path all the way through the New Moon Forest. Mrs. Hearstring’s treehouse is at the end of the road, beside the lake!”

“Then whatever she had left me must be there,” Lyra took the key and stuffed it into her saddlebags, then stood up and offered Nightjar a smile, “thank you, like, a lot. I own you a life.”

“Are you sure you want to go now?” Nightjar raised an eyebrow, “it’s—it’s already dark. The forest is not that safe now, there is—”

“Ever heard of the Everfree Forest?” Lyra joked, “Ever got chased by a pack of Timberwolves? Don’t worry, I know much worse.”

“I live here by myself, so I have plenty of empty rooms upstairs,” Nightjar insisted, “you could—”

Lyra had retreated out of the door, beaming politely.

“No, thanks, I don’t think I can wait any longer,” she said, laying a front hoof onto the doorknob, “good night.”

She almost fled from the Cosmetic Balcony, not having the guts to look back. The welcoming griffon had done everything she could do to help, and she really had no right to ask Nightjar for anything else.

She returned to the plaza, turned to the East, and soon walked out of the town’s east gate. The New Moon Forest was closer than she’d anticipated—lines and lines of black birch trees were practically connected with the out-most households of the town, encasing its eastern parts like a giant green claw. The sky had turned completely dark when she walked into the forest. She knew all forests in Equestria were unsafe at night and had considered finding a tavern somewhere, but soon her worries were proved to be meaningless. Not only was there a wide, gravel stone-lined road laid in front of her, but also hundreds of green road lamps neatly lining its sides. The town ponies must’ve used this path a lot, and certainly no wild beasts would dare to approach it.

The forest bore the smell of pleasant dews, the canopy humming carelessly amidst the evening breeze. Phosphorous crickets sang in the patches of grass, the glowing ends of their tails blooming like a miniature galaxy of green stars. All of those Lyra had not the heart to enjoy. Her quick steps soon became a trot, then broke into an intense gallop, her lime mane flying freely into the night sky. Green lights flashed behind her as she burst out of the forest’s other side, back into the moonlight.

The land in front of her was filled with tall grass, and among them stood a huge lake. The water was still, silver without a single ripple. The gravel path curled around the lake’s shore and across it, and at its end…

Lyra inhaled deeply.

A treehouse, branches green and healthy, bark brown as fertile dirt.

She was upon the household’s doorstep in a matter of seconds. She was met a door made of two screens of redwood, and there was a single large keyhole in the middle of the two doorknobs.

Lyra felt as if her heart was rushing out of her throat and all the way to Ponyville. With shaky hoofs, she took out the key and placed it upon the keyhole. Her mind clicked along with the lock as it sank perfectly in. She pushed, and the door opened with a loud creak.

A wave of dust made her cover her eyes. The inside of the treehouse was dark, forcing her to light up her horns. The first floor of the treehouse was not large, about the same size as the living of her house in Ponyville. A single round table surrounded by two chairs was in the room’s center, a thick layer of dust covering whatever was on it. On one side of the room was the outline of an old kitchen counter and on the other a worn stone workbench. A single tea stand with many drawers leaned against the corner.

That was everything her horn could illuminate, more than enough to set her heart on fire.

This is it, she thought, where mother lived, where I was born.

My home…

She started with the drawers, pulling every one of them out and checking their insides. Her mother had led her to her house, and surely she would have left her some clues, maybe about that strange stone box she’d left, or maybe even where to find her. Yet to no avail. All the drawers were empty. Taking labored breaths, she turned to the staircase in the farthest corner, rushing up to the second floor.

Bumping open the door at the end of the staircase, Lyra found herself in a deserted bedroom. A bed stood beneath a round glass window, and beside it was a small nightstand. She pounced over like a hungered timberwolf, prying it open and examining its insides. Still nothing. There were no clues in the house. Not even anything that could offer the tiniest bit of guidance.

She collapsed onto the bed, setting off a wave of dust. This can’t be right. Her mother couldn’t have wanted her to come here for nothing. There must be something else, something she had missed—

The light on her horn dwindled. For a few minutes, she sat on the bed, breathing hard. The adrenaline rush into her brain calmed itself, and her eyes drifted sideways. She suddenly discovered that the whole bed appeared to be carved out of a single piece of branch. Upon a closer look, the entire room was made at the slightest disturbance of the trunk of the tree containing it. The wall was not painted, exposing the healthy, light brown wood. There were even new branches growing out, decorating them with green leaves and blue flowers. The branch making up the bed curved upwards in its end, and at its tip directly above her head hang a miniature lamp. Despite having been abandoned for more than ten years, the room had not lost its liveliness. It was like the whole room was one gentle living creature.

Somehow a smile made its way to her cheeks. Healthy, not a single millimeter away from nature, it was the bedroom that came straight out of her dreams. She had always been seeking this kind of bedroom design earlier in ponyville, but no matter how many plants and flowers she brought into her bedroom, it just wouldn’t feel right in the busy town of Ponyville. And now here it is, placed in the town Memento, in the very household she belonged to.

Maybe…she thought, feeling a ripple of peace scattering throughout her chest, maybe it was this house that mom wanted to me inherit. This place that she knew I would favor the most. Otherwise she wouldn’t have left Nightjar the key.

Tiredness struck her. The nervousness and the fatigue of the whole-day journey proved to be too much. She spent the next hour cleaning the bedroom, sweeping away the dust, and doing her best to restore the room to its prime. The bedsheet and the blanket were aquamarine, the same color as her coat, and she was content to find that they were still soft and cozy. As she finished, she hopped onto the bed and buried herself into the blankets. She could easily see through the window, watching the serene lake beneath the full moon, the grass dancing welcomingly towards her. She felt…warm, secure.

She was home, at long last.

She would have to clean the other parts of the treehouse and check with Nightjar whether mom had left behind anything else, but those could wait. She was too sleepy now. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Lyra closed her eyes. She was very sure that she would have a wonderful dream tonight.

All until she was forcefully awoken by a huge explosion the next morning.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Does Tempest Shadow appear in this story, or is there another reason why her name is in the title?

[Valiant wind]

11183199
Just another chapter and you'll see