Book Two: Chapter Six: Lament for Fate
Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara
Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Six: Lament for Fate
Hades picked his way slowly through the devastation of Lourdes, a long frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Around him milled the living, the dead, and those in between. Keres attempted to help the souls of the dead, talking to their charges in low, soft voices, guiding them towards the rivers hidden in the Winterlands. Most listened, but a few lingered, clinging to the ashes of their former lives, to their loved ones, unable to accept their own death.
More and more of the keres appeared, sweeping out of the misty veil separating the worlds on their broad wings. Unlike their cousins, the thane, the keres offered few kind words. For all the softness of their voices and pitying eyes, the keres guided those who died in violence. Echoing the nature of their deaths, such souls often reacted with anger and threats. It took a firm hoof to guide such souls.
Perhaps a dozen within Lourdes, Hades estimated, would refuse the guidance of the keres. Of them, maybe three would linger long enough to become a problem for the town, should it rebuild. Eventually, those souls would become ghosts, the ghosts in turn transitioning into geists of various sorts, and they too, in time, would twist themselves into wraiths or other abominations to plague the living.
Unless they were sent to Tartarus first.
He could, with a gesture, send all the souls tumbling to Tartarus right then. But such an action was unnecessary and presumptuous. The mortal souls would sort themselves out in time. There was no rush.
A long sigh rattled in his throat when he was stopped by a clump of mortals begging his assistance. They grovelled so pitifully, hooves grasping at his legs and faces puffy with grief. Buried beneath the rubble of their home, a large family clung desperately to life, crying out for salvation. The small group of ponies attempting to dig through the debris stopped at Hades approach, apprehension flitting across their faces.
Underneath the rubble, Hades sensed a mare and three foals. Traces of a few others, already carried away by the keres, lingered. As he watched, one of the foals slipped away. The last flicker of life faded and was gone. Slipping through the debris, a stema carried the foal of no more than a few months old upon her back. The ghostly foal cried most pitiably, tiny hooves flailing for the warm comfort of its parents.
Within Tartarus, the foals were the only souls Hades treated with any inherent preference. As there were special reapers for the extremely young, there were places throughout the bleak misery of the colossal city where they would find shelter until they could be guided back onto the eternal wheel of reincarnation.
The stema did not acknowledge Hades, duty bound to act only for the foal’s safety, and ensure that it reached the fortress orphanages that dotted the city of the dead. A moment later the stema and its charge entered the Winterlands, and were at the banks of the River Styx.
Dragging his tongue over his teeth, Hades tilted his head, and asked, “Why?”
The group of ponies were startled by the question, confusion and anger twisting their faces. They said much of what he expected. ‘It is the right thing to do. To save a life,’ and so on. All the same moral arguments that mortals had made since their creation. He gave them all the consideration they warranted.
Their lives were so fleeting, what was the point?
He’d spent too long on the mortals, Zeus, and the various distractions hurled in his path. His Artemis was somewhere on this disc, and that was all that mattered.
Spreading his wings, Hades was about to leap into the air when his attention was caught by one of those distractions. Darting from group to group, Soir begged somepony to help her save her mother. There was a frantic, desperate note to her voice, but nopony so much as raised a hoof to help her. Everypony else had their own concerns, their own loved ones to rescue. As he’d ignored their pleas, the ponies of Lourdes ignored Soir.
Shaking with suppressed sobs, voice cracking from the effort to maintain any hope, Soir continued to move from group to group. Until she spotted Hades standing alone near the broken fountain.
She screeched to a halt and looked about to run away, then instead she approached him. Tentatively, looking much like a mouse about to scamper for the nearest hole, she entered his shadow. Her eyes were so large and pleading when she managed to lift her gaze from his hooves up to his stern frown.
“Mr. Hades, please, my mom…” She gulped and cringed. “Nopony else will help. I know she is still alive, but I can’t save her alone.”
To his unwavering gaze, Soir looked nothing like an ordinary filly. The curse wrapped tight about her could not hide her true nature. Power flowed from Soir, filling his senses even with so much latent, raw magic lingering from the battle. She was a sun amongst guttering candles.
“Your mom? You are no daughter of—”
“I know she isn’t my real mother! I know. It doesn’t matter!” Soir stamped a hoof and puffed up her face in defiance. “She is my mom. Now, are you going to help me or not?”
Hades rocked back on his hooves by the force in the filly’s watery eyes. He almost began to laugh. The mysteries surrounding Soir played at his curiosity, he hated to admit. Perhaps, just one last short distraction then.
“Very well, I promise to save your mother, if she yet lives. Lead the way.”
His response was not anticipated, judging by the dumbfounded look Soir gave him. She blinked a couple times and regained herself.
“Right. This way,” she said, turning to sprint off through the destruction, and Hades followed at a more leisurely pace.
They’d gone no more than a few yards when another pony stepped in their path. Face swollen with grief, the middle-aged mare glared at him and growled. “You’ll help that thing, when she is the cause of all this? If not for her, Lourdes would be a pleasant place. She brought you here, didn’t she? I saw you talking with her before all Tartarus opened up, and our loved ones were torn from us. You claim to be a god, but all I see is an uncaring, useless stallion.”
Hades didn’t deign to reply, and simply moved the mare aside.
“You alicorns are all the same!” The mare shrieked after Hades and Soir. “So long as your own ego is fluffed, you don’t care about what happens to anypony else.”
She may as well have been screaming into the wind for all the attention Hades paid to her. It was less a matter of ignoring her than it was caring so little that her words failed to find meaning, a noisy cricket scraping it’s legs to no greater purpose than to fill the void.
Soir hurried along debris clogged streets, past piles of rubble that were once homes and trees burning like funeral pyres, of the once vibrant town. Shattered walls thrust like the bones of an ancient dragon in the hazy light of the fading afternoon, clouds parting as Zeus’ storm broke apart. Fewer and fewer ponies were about, and those that were stumbled in a daze through the smoke drifting across the roads.
Near the remains of a thousand year old oak, trunk hewn in twain by some errant blast, a group of ponies gathered to pray, heads bent and hooves clasped. Hades slowed to listen, surprised by their hopeful intonations. As their chant shifted into a dirge, their voices took on a haunting beauty, lamenting the loss of life and begging Faust for forgiveness and comfort.
They kneeled around the body of a young mare at the base of the tree. Next to the group stood the mare’s soul with her keres guide. She was pretty, with fur the colour of fresh sunflowers, and a mane of delicate pink.
Hades stopped, transfixed, unable to turn his gaze aside as he was confronted with so exact a likeness of his Artemis.
The sight of him filled her grey eyes with fear. Her ears fell down and back as her nostrils, though they no longer drew breath, expanded in preparation to bolt. Only the keres putting its wing across her back kept the young mare from flight. Calmed her enough to hear, to listen. After whispered reassurances, the dead pony drifted away from her family and, timidly, approached Hades.
“You are the Lord of the Dead.” It was not a question, and the mare tried to smile, but fear made it crack and waver, only making her appear more like his Artemis. “Can you tell my family that I am not afraid? Tell them that I am so glad they weren’t hurt.”
Hades’ gaze darted behind the mare to the other ponies, their prayers over and regarding him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He was aware of Soir beside him, the filly chewing on her lip as she shifted from hoof to hoof in her anxiety to reach her mother. Strengthening his gaze upon the mare, Hades took in her name and all she’d ever been in this latest of lives.
A decent hearted mare, if a bit prone to pointless bickering and teasing her sisters, and jealous of the attention her brother received from their mothers. Answering the call to war, she and her dearest friend had joined the army to fight for their nation, homes, and families. Then, in their first battle she’d allowed her fillyhood friend to die when overcome by the roar of cannons, the screams, and stench of death that was an Iokan battlefield. Regret and guilt twisted through the mare, not a day going by in the few years since that she had not been visited by the horrors of her friend’s final moments. It had been because of that failure she’d been able to stand resolute as the skies were torn with fire and mountains were sundered to shield her family. She poured everything into the magic needed to keep them alive. They lived by her sacrifice.
“You will be able to tell them yourself in time, Soliel,” Hades replied, drawing shocked whispers from the ponies. To the keres, Hades said, “Inform Acheron that Soliel has my blessing and a place in my palace,” then he turned and continued with Soir towards her home, leaving the gathering confused, and Soliel to be taken to Tartarus.
He saw the distorted face of the belltower long before they turned up the final road. The ruin visited on Lourdes was thick here, the entire street flattened by the belltower’s fall. A few trees still burned, lending a ghastly glow to the strewn bricks and shattered beams.
In defiance of all the destruction, Hades sensed two ponies alive within the remains of the house. One was strong and glowed where magic was being channelled, the other weak and thready, like so many others in the town.
Lounging on one of the ruined bells, cast from the structure as it had come smashing down, a keres nodded to Hades at his approach.
“How long?”
The spirit rolled his wings and said, “A minute or two, no more. You intend to intervene? That is unlike you, Lord Hades.”
Hades silently agreed. It was unlike him to get involved in the affairs of mortals. But, he’d made a promise, and he was a stallion of his word.
“Stand back,” he said to Soir, magic alighting along his horn, sparking along the thin crack running from base to tip.
The silver-green glow of his aura surrounded the belltower, and lifted it and all the other debris as a single solid mass. Groaning at being moved in such a way, little cascades of dirt falling through the smallest gaps in his grip, the heap tilted, tottered, and attempted to break apart. Hurling the mass away, where it fell to pieces and rained beams, brick, and tile across yards and the nearby woods, Hades stepped forward.
In the hollow left behind were Jardin and Mother Framboise. Weary spurts of magic shot from the tip of Framboise’ horn into the fading remnants of the shield that had kept the crushing weight at bay.
With thanks for their rescue on her lips, she lifted her head to Hades, the words lodging themselves in her throat. Her mouth moved a few times as she attempted to push through the confused cloud of seeing the dark coated god for the first time.
Soir did not wait for either side to acknowledge the other, shooting down into the shallow pit. “Mama,” she cried, tears welling in her eyes as she reached Jardin’s inert form.
Soir’s voice jarred Framboise to action. She leaned down to lift Jardin on her back, but Hades was quicker, picking Jardin up in his magic, along with Framboise and Soir. Placing the three before him, he inspected Jardin, confirming the keres words.
A large depression on the back of her skull showed where she’d been struck by one of the beams of her home before Framboise could form the shield that had prevented them from being completely crushed. Hot, sticky blood matted her fur, seeping from the ghastly wound.
Fluttering down from his perch, the keres began to approach Jardin.
Clutching her mother, Soir pleaded and demanded for Jardin to open her eyes.
Mother Framboise extended a hoof in consolation.
The edges of Jardin began to blur, become indistinct as she took her last, shuddering breath, soul beginning to drift from her.
Hades wondered why he kept allowing himself to be sidetracked as he extended his magic over Jardin again.
It took more of Hades concentration than he was used to spending on any single spell. Healing magic had never been his forte. It had been Hecate’s domain, and she had shown him most of her spells and techniques over the many millennia they’d spent together. Even her own unique rune, Soteria, had been placed in his care.
The Goddess of Healing, but also of Necromancy, her Soteria broke the bounds of life and death, just as she had so often done. At times Hecate had been a friend, confidant, an occasional visitor to his bed, rival, and for a few, brief interludes, jokingly a wife. Like its mistress, Soteria was confusing, almost capricious, and loved to break the rules set by other gods, not at all how a Harmonic rune should have acted.
With his horn cracked, Hades could not form the full complex weave Hecate would have enacted in his place.
Green light snapped and hissed just beyond the tip of Hades’ horn as the rune took form, glowing lines tracing its shape within a circle. Channeling magic through a rune such as Soteria was tricky, but only in so far as getting it to do what he wanted. There was a reason free channeling magic through a single rune had given way to lensing, and then the complex weaving of spells. Were he not a god, were he not tens of thousands of years old with all the accumulated knowledge such age entailed, controlling the outcome would have been impossible.
As it was, he would never be able to control the range of Soteria to encompass just Jardin.
Everypony in the valley, from those clinging to the last vestiges of life, to those with the smallest of scrapes, would feel the rune’s effects. Pulses of silvery-green aether washed over Lourdes, the woods beyond, up to the monastery, and over the fields and hills snug within the valley’s mouth. All touched by the magic were healed, even the trees and beasts. Closest to the unbridled power of the rune, Jardin felt the effects strongest. She glowed with the power life being forced into her, body restored and soul affixed to its proper home.
The keres stopped his advance, looking quizzically at Hades before shrugging and turning away to slip back into the Winterlands, off to guide some other soul to the underworld.
Releasing his grasp over Soteria, the disc spun before his eyes for a moment. It had been ages since he’d required such control over a rune. This was not something as simple as opening the Gates, already attuned to his power, or allowing his dominion over death to infuse his voice.
Had Zeus been around to witness him grow light headed over something as mundane as channeling magic through a single rune, Hades would have wanted to crawl back to Tartarus in disgusted shame. It was bad enough a pair of mortals had to witness his momentary weakness.
Not that they seemed to notice.
Framboise looked upon him with abject wonder and awe, while Jardin stared at her hooves and struggled against Soir’s choking hugs.
He squirmed as they fawned over each other, with all the usual tearful confessions and professions of love. Wings fluffed in discomfort, and his promise fulfilled, Hades turned to leave.
“Wait,” Soir called, struggling to her hooves. “Take me with you!”
Hades was taken aback by the sudden demand. As was Jardin, shock, hurt, and a deep relief filling her eyes. Half turning back, Hades waited with a stern frown for Soir to explain herself.
“Faust said, she told me to find the stars,” she said in a hesitant squeak. “And you promised to help me.”
“Which I have done so.”
Soir did not shrink away like Hades anticipated at the refutation, but steeled herself, chest thrust forward and chin raised at a defiant angle.“Then I need your help again!” She added a hoof stamp, and marched up to him. It was almost cute, and had he a heart, Hades might have felt some semblance of sympathy. “Faust said that I had to find the stars to restore myself.”
“Did she now?” A sly grin took form as Hades loomed over Soir, a blossom of amusement filling his chest. He let just a faint hint of death enter his voice, and spread out his enormous wings. “But, is it wise to tell me this? Aren’t I her enemy? An intruding god here to steal this world out from under her hooves.”
Behind Soir, Jardin cringed, indecision clear as she hovered between scooping up her ward or running away. Framboise was similarly overcome, the disc darkening around them as the sun set and Hades channelled just a fraction of Tartarus.
Showing her own divine nature, Soir weathered Hades presence with ease, shaking her head and saying, “You tried to stop the fight. Well, you didn’t get involved, at least.”
“There was little point. My brother is more than capable of dealing with an inconsequential god on some distant backwater of a world lacking a true pantheon. Her hubris could not be checked, either. I’ve met many a god such as her, and was once considered such myself. Standing aside and letting them sort it out themselves was the only option.” Hades ran a hoof through his mane and released a rattling sigh.
He looked over the devastation of the valley, and felt a small pang of regret at not trying harder to rein in his brother. How long would their search be delayed now? The complications were unnecessary and could have been avoided, if only Zeus didn’t have to take every challenge so personally. The local sun goddess was clearly Zeus’ equal, and now had a grudge to nurse. Hades had yet to meet a sun god who was not among the upper echelons of a pantheon, more than a few were the chief deity of their respective worlds; Hemera, Horus, Tonatiuh, Amaterasu, and Freyr all sprang to mind.
And, it was no coincidence that it was when Soir was being confronted that Faust had chosen to reveal herself. She’d been watching them for days, attempting to stay hidden, but her skill was sorely lacking when it came to subterfuge. If Soir was that important, having her near could prove beneficial.
“Very well,” Hades declared, startling everypony, “I will take you to the stars, for a favour of my choosing at some later—”
“Okay! Let’s go!” Soir clapped her hooves and beamed happily.
“You really shouldn’t be so quick to agree to a bargain with a god of the Underworld,” Hades said with an exasperated groan.
“I trust you, Mr. Hades,” Soir tilted her head and gave that innocent smile all fillies seemed to intrinsically master. “You saved my mom, so you can’t be a bad pony.”
Hades sighed at the naive innocence but made no effort to enlighten her. There would be plenty of opportunities for that later. “Then it is a bargain. Is it Astraea you seek, or have you some local goddess responsible for their care?”
“Uh, T-Twilight. Faust said I have to find Twilight… uh…” Soir looked for guidance from the adults.
“Sparkle Tuilerya,” Framboise provided, “of the Stars and Wishes.”
“Wishes?” Hades arched a brow, finding the addition curious. “Very well. And where will we find this Twilight Sparkle Tuilerya? Within what land is her primary temple?”
Again, it was Framboise who answered. “Notre-dame de Etoiles is to be built in Equestria.”
Quick on Framboise’ reply, Jardin said, “You won’t find her in Equestria. She has gone to Zebrica. It was in the gazette. But, don’t I get a say in any of this? Soir was intrusted to me by Algol. She is my daughter!”
“You may protest all you want, madam, until your throat is raw and you collapse from the effort, but it will be futile. A pact has been struck, and I will bring Soir to the stars.” Hades scooped Soir up, placing her on his back between his broad wings.
Small hooves entwining themselves in his mane, Soir called down, “It’s okay mom. Mr. Hades will take good care of me, and I’ll be back soon. Promise!”
For the second time in as many days, Twilight felt the pressure of Celestia’s approach before the princess appeared. There was an added weight to the air this time, like a damp cloth was being pushed against her face, and her wings itched. Standing up to greet the princess, a wide smile spreading, Twilight was wholly unprepared for what was coming.
None of Celestia’s flames had abated in the minutes spent traversing the disc. The princess’ mane roared and hissed in the humid air of southern Zebrica, and Coronal Edge crackled at her side, the ancient greatsword swinging around in search of an opponent who failed to materialise.
Many times Twilight had seen the very same image, but only ever in paintings and murals. She’d always ascribed such renditions to artistic license and overactive imaginations. In all her life, she’d had the misfortune of seeing Celestia angry on multiple occasions, being the focus of that ire only a hoofful of times. Even at her worst, she’d never lost her control, never done so much as raised her voice, and Twilight had found that frightening enough, foolishly assuming that that was as angry as Celestia got.
Twilight had always nursed a healthy trepidation towards Celestia, in the way a child is wary their parents, scared to earn disappointment and disapproval rather than true animalistic fear for life and limb. Here, now, however, with the primal, raw power that was Celestia unleashed, almost blinding to look upon, a tiny pang of fear flickered just behind her breast. In that moment, as Celestia’s hardened gaze swept over the Bellerophon’s decks and the skies beyond, Twilight saw what those artist had seen and feared her cousin.
It was the broken, limp body of Faust hovering at Celestia’s side, however, that truly gave Twilight pause.
For a rare moment, Twilight couldn’t think. All she saw was Faust, feathers burnt from her right wing, bruises shining through her dirt stained coat, blood running freely from a multitude of wounds. The stench of seared flesh and fur and ozone crawled up Twilight’s nose, making her gag and cover her mouth.
Landing on the deck, Celestia demanded, “Where are they?”
The anger in Celestia’s tone put Twilight further back on her hooves, and drew her stars into a defensive cluster around her. “Who? What is going on?”
Celestia’s gaze darted around the ship and horizon again, and softened just a little. The flames forming her mane gutted, and the pastel aurora returned.
A hacking cough from Faust brought her attention back to the more pressing concern.
“Timely!” Celestia shouted, the Royal Canterlot Voice in full effect, and making the entire ship shudder as if she’d struck a hidden shoal.
Before Celestia had even set hoof on the deck, the ship had sprung to action. Nopony could mistake the seriousness of Celestia and Faust’s appearance, and in response the drums had sounded battlestations. From underhoof came the din of hammers knocking down walls, cannons being run out, and the booming voices of the officers urging the crew to quicker action.
The doctor, whose station in battle was the dank and humid cockpit deep in the bowels of the ship, had just laid out his instruments and sand was being spread underhoof when his name was called. Grabbing his apprentice and portable medical bag, he rushed up the ladders to the deck.
On seeing Faust, there was no pause or shock evident in his demeanor. He took one look at her and ordered his apprentice, “Retrieve the thickest tome from my cabin, miss Leech.” Then to Celestia said, “Carry her into the great cabin with all the gentleness you’ve ever mustered.”
Already, Celestia was lifting Faust with such precision that not a hair was disturbed. Silent, unsure what she should be doing, Twilight followed, jumping ahead to get the doors or clear a space in the great cabin.
“Princesses, neither of you have difficulty with the sight of blood, I wager?” Timely said as Faust was placed on the large desk before the broad windows where she was fully in Sol’s light. He did not wait for a response from either, before he began instructing Twilight and Celestia to hold Faust fast. Knives, pliers, saws, and other implements that looked more like a wood carvers tools than implements of healing were laid across a nearby table. Miss Leech returned, the ancient tome given to Timely by Celestia before the beginning of the voyage propped where he could have quick access to its guidance.
Putting on aprons, Timely and his apprentice set to work. Barely tall enough to see over the table, the young mare—just more than a filly, really—always seemed to know what her master would demand in advance, snatching up tools, or jumping up on a stool to use her hooves as necessary.
Stomach churning, Twilight was both repulsed and fascinated. “Why don’t you take her to Canterlot? The doctors and facilities there—”
“She’d never survive—we must get this splinter out of her, miss Leech, and stop this bleeding before she hemorrhages—the journey, Princess.” Timely spoke with an almost laissez-faire ease as he worked. An oak splinter as long as Faust’s horn was pulled from her inner thigh, where it had become lodge against the bone. Screaming, Faust thrashed, and Timely shouted, “Hold her still, damn it.”
Increasing the pressure on Faust’s shoulders, Twilight grew silent, filing the assortment of questions swirling through her away until after the doctor completed his work. Through the rest of the afternoon, he tended to Faust. Sometimes she was lucid, alternating between curses upon his ancestry, and other times she fell into a mumbling stupor.
Rags soaked with her glistening ruby blood began to pile, a slight glow infusing the cotton.
Her wing was Timely’s gravest concern following the splinter, and he spent a great amount of time removing dead flesh and applying various salves and oils before wrapping it in linens. The stench of burned skin was overpowering, making Twilight’s stomach writhe almost as much as the sight of the blackened skin, torn back in places to reveal muscle and bone. Faust’s ear was a complete loss, not that he gave it more than a passing glance as he moved to her destroyed eye, scooping out dead tissue and packing on more of his sterile bandages.
Night had long fallen by the time he at last finished and Faust was laid in the largest bed.
At some point Luna had arrived. When, Twilight could not say. She recalled Luna, silent and grave, help hold Faust when Timely applied his medicines to her legs.
The doctor sat with Faust through the night, while the princesses were ordered elsewhere, lest they disturb her.
Retreating to the deck, they found the ship as silent as a graveyard. If not for the slight creak of wood, the groan of the rigging, or the faint whisper of wind kissing the sails, the silence would have been complete. Not a pony so much as dared breath, and moved on hooves wrapped in cloths. Even the bells were muffled.
“How is she?” Pinkie asked, perhaps the only pony on the ship other than Rainbow capable of speaking and not being thrown overboard. She was utterly deflated and bereft of her usual bounce. Twilight could not recall seeing Pinkie so wretched since that first surprise party they’d tried to throw her.
“We will know in the morning,” Celestia said softly, and a nervous ripple crossed the ship.
Pinkie nodded solemnly, tears falling from her good eye, and retreated to a corner to be alone.
“How is this even possible. Aren’t you alicorns invulnerable to pretty much everything?” Rainbow demanded a little too loudly.
“Grey Dust the Cantankerous’ Principles of Magical Negation,” Twilight supplied, and before the inevitable follow-up question, recited, “‘Any enchantment or magical field may be temporarily reduced, or negated, with sufficient enough direct aether applied in a short period.’”
Rainbow gave her a deadpan stare.
“It means if we get hit hard enough by a spell, it can make us vulnerable like any other pony for a while.”
“Ah.”
“What I wish to know is who did mother fight. Leviathan is imprisoned. Did she escape already?” Luna looked to Celestia.
“No, he was an alicorn, and not alone. I counted two others in the near vicinity, but didn’t see them,” Celestia said. Her face was ashen and terse with barely contained rage. “And no, you are not to go looking for them Luna.”
Emitting an imperious snort, Luna demanded, “Why? And do not dare say it is because she has a plan. It is clear that she does not.” She paced back and forth across the deck, the metal caps of Tamashi’s scabbard, tucked beneath her wing, glinted in the moonlight.
Celestia was silent.
A seeping melancholy spread across the Bellerophon, and even the wind faded so the sails hung slack and she drifted on the current alone. Everypony retreated to into their own thoughts and private pains. Luna glared towards the north, body rigid, and a keen, brutal glow reflected in her eyes. Celestia took the leeward quarterdeck as her own, staring down at the water bubbling along the side of the ship. Twilight went to Pinkie, and held her friend as she quietly sobbed. At some point fatigue overcame anxiety, and Twilight fell into a restless sleep.
The night passed in this way. Fleur brought up blankets, spread them over Twilight and Pinkie, and retreated, feeling much like an intruder.
Near midnight, the wind shifted and grew, and the Bellerophon struck her topgallants and ran under topsails alone. Graven faced watches shifted, one set going below and another taking their place. Hardy remained on deck all the night long, taking only some coffee towards the end of the graveyard watch. Barrel Scraper served the princesses a cup each, and sent one to the doctor. Six muffled bells rang in dull tones that failed to carry beyond the wheel.
And still no news came from the great cabin.
Dawn at last came, and Twilight woke with a start just long enough to put her stars to bed, sending those who’d kept vigil with her on the disc back up to the heavens where they belonged, then drifted back off herself. For perhaps the only time, the crew watched with bated breaths as Celestia raised her precious Sol and bathed the disc in day.
Shortly thereafter dolphins emerged from the morning mists to ride the Bellerophon’s bow wave. Their sharp laughter carried far, and several crew tried to shoo them away, waving their hats and making motions with their hooves. This only drove the pod into louder, more wild antics thinking the ponies were playing some game. It wasn’t until Luna went to the forecastle that the pod dispersed, driven away by a single look from the princess.
The day was long, and terse. Whispers flew into rumour, and before the noon bells it was widely agreed upon that Faust had perished in the night. Nopony could survive such horrific wounds, said one group. To which another angrily replied that Faust was no regular pony. She was in the care of not some half-bit surgeon, but a proper physician. One charged by the princesses themselves with the care for the royal herd. He was the steadiest hoof with a knife on all the disc. Could whip out all your innards and set them back in just so, and you’d never be the worse. Why, did he not cut open ol’ Jill Place’s head, scoop out a bit of her brains, and set her back to rights when she was hit in the head by a block and tackle back on the Sophie? A few of the old mare’s shipmates nodded their heads gravely at this, and confirmed that it was all true. Others who’d been with the ill-fated landing party on Marelantis spoke of how he’d sewn back on legs, brought the dead back to life with his skills, and all other sorts of exaggerated tales.
Still, the divisions grew between the old Bellerophons and the new brought along with Hardy. Tensions continued to build, threatening to undo the work of the last month. Small Pin, one of the least able of the landsmares, barely good for hauling on a rope in calm weather, became drunk and began speaking in a loud voice how Leviathan had cursed the ship. One of the survivors of Marelantis, and a former priestess, her words on such matters carried weight with the crew.
Until Celestia’s shadow fell over the mare and her messmates. The princess said nothing. She just gave them a look of the most profound disappointment, and then returned to the poop deck. Cheeks burning with shame, the mares said nothing more on the subject, and returned to their duties with lowered heads.
Just as dusk made it’s return, Timely came on deck to smoke a cigar and down a glass of wine. “She is awake, and asking for you three. Take care not to aggravate her. She is far from being out of danger.”
Faust tried to lift herself up as Twilight and the others came into the great cabin. Celestia stopped her with a gentle hoof, and stern command to rest.
“Here come more ghosts,” Faust said, her voice weak and reedy. “First Soir, and now you two.”
Faust beckoned them come closer.
“Danger, so much danger surrounds us. The enemy has struck. Blind! I have been blind. Since a filly, so blind. Never noticed… Too much pride.” Faust tried to grin, to laugh, but was wracked by wet coughs. She reached out for Celestia, took her daughter’s hoof in her own, gave it a weak squeeze. “So much has changed. My weave… Cannot fix it. Cannot offer guidance. Strands are hidden. Half-truths…”
“Hush, mother, we will heal you. Conserve your strength,” Celestia ordered softly, looking to Luna for reassurance.
Luna gave her none, body rigid, and expression one of grim certainty.
Faust took a steadying breath, gathered some of her strength. Her eyes cleared a little, focused on Celestia with careful intent.
“Perhaps before Discord,” Faust replied in measured words. “Or if Iridia were here. Only my sister and I hold knowledge of healing magic. She would only come to spit on my hoof after what I did to her and Namyra. It was my fault! All of it! No, it wasn’t…”
A long growl issued from Faust that turned into a pained wheeze. “The Moirai!”
“Were they the ones you were fighting?”
Faust shook her head. “No. Not Zeus… Fate. Fate? It was a trap. A trap laid before… Before when? They are the weavers. What does that make me? A glorified hoofmaid!”
“You need to calm down, mother.” Luna was the one who spoke and laid her hoof on Faust’s withers this time. “There must be some artifact lying about the disc that we can use.”
“A few, but they are all lost, out of reach, or lack the necessary power,” Celestia said softly.
“Too late for them now,” Faust shivered as she spoke. She was so pale beneath her coat, her lips almost blue.
Tucked in a corner, Twilight darted little glances towards the door as if in search of an escape. Her presence was wrong, intruding on what should have been private. She dared not move and draw attention to herself, and so stayed silent.
Faust issued a sad chuckle that turned into a sharp gasp. She clutched Celestia’s hoof tighter, and her eyes rolled in her head, and her voice took on a low, resonating note when next she spoke. “A red sun approaches. Within it a mouth large enough to swallow worlds, and within that mouth a whirlpool of eyes. Ioka dies, her disc broken in twain, and falls through the void amidst the ruin of worlds.”
“Mother, you are delirious.”
Shivering, sweat running in thick streams through her coat, eye rolling across the room, Faust dragged Celestia closer still. “You must not fight Zeus. You mustn’t! Promise me, Celestia.”
Voice cracking, and tears filling her eyes, Celestia whispered, “I promise, mother.”
With greater intensity, Faust clung to Celestia. “Swear it! On Seung’s grave, swear it.”
Celestia was taken aback a moment, her face twisting with deeper anger and bitterness. She did not answer at once, and when she did her voice was strained, as if she had to pull the words over a vast distance. “On my father’s grave, I swear to you, I will not fight Zeus.”
At last Faust relaxed and sank deeper into the cot. “Good,” she hissed, “this is good. Disaster may be averted.” Her gaze unfocused gaze fell on Twilight, and her face twisted with pain. “Twilight… Come here.”
Twilight jumped at being addressed, unsure what to do. At a nod from Celestia she approached the bed. Her hooves trembled with each step, a nervous tick working its way from the tip of her tail to an ear, and back down again. Tension pulled at the corners of her mouth, and up into her eyes, tightening with each quick beat of her heart.
“Your sister… She…” Faust trembled for a moment until she let out a long, rattling gasp, and her hoof slipped from Celestia’s grasp.
“And this, girls, is…” Iridia frowned, hoof pausing in its sweep over the pass between Equestria and the Taiga. “Actually, I have no idea what this fort is called. It wasn’t here last time I passed this way.”
The quartet of fillies and Fluttershy groaned in unison.
Snow reaching over their pasterns, the crusaders all shivered beneath their home-made cloaks. Shyara just looked irritated, and Fluttershy concerned.
“What do you say to paying them a visit? Get a hot meal and see if any other Halla have crossed the pass.” No sooner had Iridia finished than the crusaders were darting between her hooves looking for a way up to the fort.
There wasn’t one, of course. Unless the cracked, narrow switch-back stairs chiseled some centuries prior into the face of the canyon cliff counted. Which, to Iridia, it did not, what with whole segments missing where they’d slid to the canyon floor, or down the north facing slopes.
Picking up the fillies, Iridia spread her wings and leapt up, closely followed by Fluttershy and a struggling Shyara. Cheering as she floated up, Scootaloo buzzed her miniature wings and thrust out of hoof like she were in a race.
“Isn’t this great?” Scootaloo called to her friends, using what little propulsion her wings provided to spin around a grumpy Sweetie and frightened Apple Bloom.
“It’s alright, I suppose,” Apple Bloom gulped, and took great care not to look down.
Crisp mountain wind fanning her golden mane, Iridia felt much as she’d done so many thousands of years prior as a young mare, leaving the safety and comfort of the herd in search of the fabled city of unicorns, Marelantis. Instead of her little sister bouncing between her hooves, she had a quartet of fillies, and one mystery. And the small patches of forest broken by meadows, low hills, and the black plumes sent up by distant volcanoes were replaced by an endless sea of pine and fir. For a moment, Iridia could smell the lingering sulfur spread by dragons as they surveyed their territories, and hear again the heavy thumps of wings larger than oldest trees commanding the wind to hold the fiery beasts aloft.
Her heart beat faster at the memories, and a wistful smile played at the corners of her mouth. A shimmer ran through the strands of her mane so they seemed like a sheet of polished gold.
So much changes, and yet it is always the same. No matter the lay of the land, or what monsters roamed, the base nature of life remained fixed and resilient.
Reaching the edge of the cloud-stone ledge, Iridia shifted the nature of her magic to allow Apple Bloom and Sweetie to stand on the fluffy white surface. Only a small portion of the fort was made of cloud-stone, a mere tower and most of the courtyard jutting off a natural ledge.
There was nopony to greet the group as their hooves pressed down into the fluffy grey surface.
Unsurprised, Iridia swept up to the thick oak double-doors while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo bounced like they were on a trampoline. Even Sweetie grinned just a little, and Shyara pranced in a wide circle, all under Fluttershy’s anxious gaze. The poor dear darted from filly to filly, warning them to avoid the edge, or patches where the clouds had grown thin.
A growing delight at her decision to stop at the fort filling her breast, Iridia gave the bleached white wood a hefty knock. Echoes of heavy thuds answered, and then nothing for some time. Iridia tapped a hoof, wondering if she’d been wrong, and the fort was abandoned.
Other than a worn rocking chair next to a dirt encrusted iron table near the ledge, there was little to suggest anypony lived in the fort.
She was far from ready to give up and continue into the Taiga when there came the clatter of locks and then the door was pulled open just a crack. Through the slit, peering up at her, were three cherubic, round faces with equally round and large eyes.
“Hello dearies,” Iridia said, putting on her kindest smile. “Is your mother home?”
The eldest nodded.
“Can we see her?”
Those big, round eyes darted to the crusaders, over Fluttershy, and then back to Iridia.
“Please?”
The door snapped shut, and fervent whispering could be heard on the other side.
So far, it was not the worst reception Iridia had received.
A few more minutes flitted by, and then the doors were opened again, this time by a mare in her early thirties. “The princesses have not come to visit us,” she was part way through saying to one of her daughters when she came face to barrel with Iridia, and let out a little gasp. Jumping back, she fell into a steep bow, exclaiming, “Princess Celestia, I’m so sorry for making you wait! W-We didn’t even know you were coming.”
“Well, my niece would hardly fault you,” Iridia said with a pleasant little laugh, “as she doesn’t travel all that much anymore. Court keeps her rather busy.”
The mare looked up at this, confusion crossing her face as she took in Iridia, Fluttershy, and the fillies. “Who…?”
“Iridia, Queen of the Taiga, ruler of all the lands to the north, Goddess of the Spring, Life, Rejuvenation, and Motherhood.” She swept a wing towards the misty forest stretching out north. “I hoped to prevail upon your legion for some warm food and company. My friends and I have been traveling all day, and only have had a few small breaks. The girls in particular could use some time in front of a fireplace.”
“Oh! Yes, come in, please,” the mare pushed the door more fully open, and indicated with a large wing of her own for them to follow.
Formed of a natural cavern network expanded upon over the centuries, the fort had seen better days. A strong, musky scent of old wood and cold stone permeated walls, seeped out of the threadbare rugs tossed over worn oak flooring, and lingered in the bleached tapestries. Here and there doors were blocked off, either by boxes, or nailed shut. Rust covered the hinges, and clung to a few suits of armour on their stands.
The grand hall was in no better shape. Only one of the three hearths held a fire, the others shuttered with tin sheets, and two of the long tables were stacked one atop the other in a corner. Thick cobwebs clung to the rafters, and down to the remaining iron chandelier, chains dangling where the others had been. Cracked glass filled the tall windows, flakes of paint showing where they’d been tinted, but now let the evening sun in unabated.
A group of ponies sat around the high table, six adults listening to the trio of fillies.
“Fie, what a state my niece has allowed her allies to fall!” Iridia tsked, the sound echoing throughout the fort.
Discontent and concern filled the pegasi, each looking to the other for some idea of what to do, or who should talk. It was the ancient matriarch who picked herself up and addressed Iridia. An exemplary pony, vestiges of the strong mare she’d once been showed themselves in the quickness of her mind, even if her body was frail, and wings featherless things hidden beneath blankets. She bade Iridia to sit, and issued a sharp bark to her son-in-law to give a helping hoof in the kitchen.
“We’re going to have us a feast,” she cackled, eyes bright with delight, and a wide toothless grin on her face.
The pre-dinner conversation was filled with the usual pleasantries. Inquiries over the group’s trip, where they were from and headed, and if there were any interesting anecdotes to be shared.
“Mrs. Iridia took us into the, um, Aether Void!” Scootaloo exclaimed happily, drawing a few amused smiles.
“Aetherial currents,” Apple Bloom corrected.
“That’s what I said,” shot back her friend. “It was funny. You were so blue after we popped up on that mountain!”
“Only because we weren’t given enough warning and there ain’t no air in the currents.”
“Sweetie and I didn’t have that problem.”
“Yeah, well, so?”
“You’re the one Zecora has been teaching.”
“What difference does that make?”
“So, don’t you know all about this magical stuff?”
“It’s completely different!”
“Girls,” Fluttershy cut the squabble short, touching the friends ever so slightly on the withers with the tip of a wing. “You’re being rude to our hosts.”
Hanging their heads, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both apologized.
“Sounds like you’ve had a long trip already,” the matriarch chuckled.
Fluttershy shared stories about her bird chorus with the matriarch’s daughter, and Shyara seemed to be getting along with one of the stallions. Iridia held the most attention, much of the curiosity centered on her when it became known she was the queen of those forests over which the Legion watched, but never dared enter. All the chatter between the various ponies put a bit of colour into the matriarch’s cheeks, and made her eyes twinkle.
By the time dinner was served, they were as old friends. An almost festive atmosphere made the trio of fillies skip as they wheeled in the cart laden with platters and bowls from the kitchen, their father following along with a pleased smile.
“Why did you bring us here?” Fluttershy asked as dinner was served. “I, um, thought we were going to help you take back your throne. Unless you don’t want to anymore. That is okay, too.”
Instead of answering directly, Iridia leaned over to the filly pouring out a heaping portion of steaming broccoli soup. “Do you know who she is?” asked Iridia, indicating the statue behind the matriarch's chair. The filly shook her head, and Iridia continued, “That is the progenitor of your line. Your mother’s mother’s mother by sixty generations, or so. Do you know her name?” Again a negative. “She was—”
“Blizzard Singer, of course. Like our legion,” interjected the eldest of the sisters from down the line.
“Actually, that was her title,” Iridia corrected. “Her name was Oropolla, and she was the Guidepost of Winter’s Fury.”
“That sounds so cool!” Scootaloo exclaimed from down the table. “But, what does that mean?”
“She was a fallen star, deary,” the old matriarch said, blowing on her soup. As if to further her point, she spread her large, tattered wings, pinions faded where they’d not fallen out. “My granddame told me Oropolla was a knight who fought with Princess Luna. Her voice was filled with the haunting song of a hundred blizzards, able to carry a bone chilling frost on her music. Princess Luna and her dozen stars protected Unicornia and all ponykind from the griffons in those days. The valla, they called themselves. They had the most majestic wings. So grand and beautiful. Like they were distant kin to Luna herself. Ain’t that so, your Majesty?”
Iridia tipped her head. “Just so.”
“Why are your wings so small?” demanded one of the fillies in the ensuing lull, her sharp, young voice carrying in the stone hall.
Sinking a little in her chair, self-consciously hiding her dwarfish wings, Scootaloo muttered some response that Iridia did not catch. Her face flushed deep with embarrassment and something else, and she could not lift her eyes off her bowl.
“Scootaloo is a Wren Tichen, a confluence of the three lines of ponykind. You can’t judge a pegasus by the size of their wings. She has a strong, special magic that she simply has yet to discover,” Iridia said, her words bringing a hesitant grin and slight blush to Scootaloo’s face.
This brought the conversation back into full effect, some of the other Blizzard Singers recounting stories of friends who were Tern Pegasi, and how they could fly faster than the west wind, or a Raven Pegasus who was admitted to Honigwein College’s wizard program. Aria spoke at length about a former crush who’d been a Peregrin Pegasus who could not fly at all, unable to control the winds, or even stand on clouds despite having the most beautiful wings, yet he was the most graceful dancer she’d ever laid eyes on. A toast was made to hidden potentials.
“You just made that up, didn’ya?” commented the matriarch behind her glass of wine as the conversation again shifted.
“Of course,” Iridia replied. “But, she is a special filly, nevertheless.”
“Aye. But, isn’t that said of every foal?”
“It may be said, but it would be untrue,” Iridia quickly responded and shook her head. “Those three all have grand destinies ahead of them. My sister’s work is evident, the scent of her touch still lingering and reminding me of ancient days when we both played such prominent roles in events shaping the disc. While I favour a direct approach, she prefers elevating mortals—ponies especially—to the role of hero, guiding their lives and giving them a touch of her own strength. The Elements of Harmony may be her greatest champions, but she has others suited to unique roles. Scootaloo and her friends are just such ponies.”
Iridia sighed, and she could not keep a touch of melancholy from entering her voice.
“I worry for my sister. Faust is… impossible at times. And so infuriating, thinking she has to keep secrets and manipulate everypony. She separates herself, creates a gulf nopony can cross. Not myself, not even Celestia and Luna can make her see reason. She has torn herself into ten-thousand pieces all acting and vying against each other until she lost herself. It is going to lead her astray, I fear.
“So, I will keep her agents close, and give them the protection they deserve. I just wish I knew what my sister intended with them, so that I could shield them from her schemes.”
“Perhaps this is their role,” the matriarch spread a toothless grin. “Keeping you preoccupied with these fillies while she acts elsewhere. The Goddess of Fate can do such things, can’t she?”
Iridia grew silent, and chewed on the idea as much as her radish and carrot salad. At last, she said, “My sister is no more Fate than I am Life. The truth stares everypony in the face, yet they all seem to miss it. Her greatest champions are called the Elements of Harmony not for the artifacts they wield, but for whom they are chosen.”
Dinner continued, and was ready to wind down. The fillies all shifted anxiously in their seats, young energy compelling them to move, and looked at the adults with pleading eyes.
“Aria, deary, why don’t you sing for us? The one I first taught you.” The matriarch reached over and patted her daughter’s leg.
“Yes, a song!” Iridia cried out over the general din in the room. “I would love to hear you sing.”
Aria frowned, but could not refuse her mother, not when a queen was visiting. She moved center of the room, took a deep breath, and everypony fell into a waiting hush.
When she sang, it was as if the gates of Elysium opened to give her voice, such was its purity. In all her years, Iridia could recall only one other with a voice of such stunning quality. She sat, enraptured, as Aria sang the Lament for Harmony.
Oh, Faust, Queen of All Ponykind,
So high above on your Alabaster Throne.
Deaf to our cries you long have grown,
To our despair you have fallen blind.
Thuelesia lost in mists of the forlorn spring,
Our guiding light shines on ponies no more.
Pride, Envy, and Lust blackened hearts bore,
Till we were cast out from beneath your shining wing.
Iridia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. There was something off about the song, an annoyance prickling at the back of her mind, like a hoof pulling at a loose thread. What, she could not say, as the song was so masterfully sung. Aria had one of those rare, one in a million voices. She was the true successor to the greatness of her lineage, as if she were Oropolla reborn.
Cruel horns sound on the ships of Parmeria,
Herald chains bound about pony necks.
Wings fail to shield your plaintive subjects,
Gram lays sheathed in halls of the Halla.
A slight gasp came from Iridia. Her eyes widened as if she were confronted by Leviathan once more. She knew this song. She knew it, as she’d been the one to first give it voice. And had never done so again. Dread filled her gut.
Deep. All encompassing dread.
She could not breath, lips moving in silent mirror to Aria.
The Alabaster Throne stands bereft and bare,
And now we must wander on our own way.
Safety lay in distant valleys far from our enemies we pray,
To lands untamed that wait in Sol’s golden glare.
Oh, Faust, Queen of All Ponykind,
So high above on your Alabaster Throne.
As the last note drifted away, Iridia sat in stone faced silence, eyes closed, and breath shallow as she relived those terrible days so very long ago. She recalled with clarity the day she’d sung the stinging song to Faust, a cruel jab at how pitiless her sister could be at times. A dreadful weight settled in her stomach as she turned over the words Faust had uttered in response, ‘When next you hear this lament, look to the stars. She falls, or I. Look to the stars.’
Everypony else clapped or stamped their hooves, pleasure writ large throughout the rest of the room. Aria blushed, and began to bow, then took notice of the queen. Iridia stood with such force, her face twisted by fear mixed with anger, that the room fell into fearful silence. Fluttershy half stood, hovering between whether to intervene or not.
They were all immaterial. Iridia needed to see the sky. She had to know what was going on in the heavens. The windows of the great hall were too small and dirty, little more than smudges visible beyond their panes.
A short snap, impenetrable black, and then Iridia stood in the fortress’ courtyard, face turned up towards the night. Freezing wind tore at her, whipping through mane and tail, tugging on her wings, and stinging her cheeks. Thick clouds leaden with the weight of growing crystals rolled on a north wind, threatening snow.
Reaching into the core of her being, Iridia touched the essence of spring, warmth, and rejuvenation, banishing the clouds from the night. Grass poked out between the cracks in the stone, and the dryads, calypsos, and orchids natural to the mountains blooming in their planters.
She glared at the stars as she would a misbehaving foal, scanning, searching, and hoping against hope not to see what she so feared.
One minute passed. Then two, and Iridia did not know if she should relax or be more worried.
The others arrived, and with them questions
She did not answer, remaining fixed on the sky. Eyes searching every corner and constellation.
A gasp came from the fillies, Apple Bloom thrusting a hoof towards the east.
Polaris dipped lower, joined by Sirius, Mintaka, Rukbat, and a few others. They jostled amongst themselves, and then Sirius fell from the heavens.
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So Hades and Soir are heading for Zebrica. And Faust's condition is uncertain. And now Sirius has chosen to fall with Iridia and her group staying in the Blizzard Singers' fortress.
The secret to dealing with having godhood and new powers is simple really.
Don't give a solitary f**k. XD
I believe you meant twain, here as if it was cut in two.
Indenting is now a formatting option, each reader can now choose to have the indented, double spaced, or both.
By the throne...
I'm not sure if Faust is dead (again) or not. Her prophecy or whatever suggested that someone was going to 'fall', but if that was referring to her and Sirius, then it appears they both fell. Or perhaps I'm misunderstanding that bit. The fact that Celestia has been forbidden from beating Zeus' ass because it'll destroy the world or something really aggravates the hell out of me. At least it seems unlikely they'll hook up at this point, so there's a silver lining. Nice chapter, though I'm eager for shit to start going right for our guys.
I half expect Hades to find his way to twilight and her group say he sorry about what happen and try to help them out, and luna end up follow for him,
8265833
We've just been told that Faust will probably be alright, I believe. "she falls, or I." Those kinds of predictions tend to be rather exclusive.
8265878
I really wish Knighty and Co' would stop mucking around with things. I remember when this site was so colourful, with artwork banners, and everything. It had charm. Now, it feels very... business-like, and has lost that spark it once had.
Thanks for the info on the indenting. That was driving me crazy this morning. First I couldn't find the indent feature, then it didn't seem to work, so I went and indented each paragraph with 'tab' manually. When that failed, too, I thought some very strong curse words to myself.
8265863
*grumble mutter sigh* Off I go to fix that which I should have caught right away... Thank you for the correction.
Ooooohhh boy, things aren't looking too good for Faust. Interesting to see that Jardin survived this time around, though!
8265961
Definitely agree on that first part, it just looks too much like AO3 and fanfiction.net now.
It is clear that the next chapter will deal with the wishes that are made now that Sirius has fallen. I'm not sure wheter Faust has survived or has died but the fall of Sirius is connected to that without a doubt. It is possible that Faust will be saved by Sirius' actions and I suspect hat the other stars tried to convince Sirius not to fall.
8265964
Any time!
8265961
I think it has something to do with copyright laws and not braking them but I could be wrong.
I wonder how many wishes will be granted by Twilight.
8265961
They fallen prey to the "Flat design is inherently good! Flattest is best!" brainworm.
I have problems reading comments and, the news feed, and you don't even know who any story that is updated belongs to unless you can recognize the avatar (which is not even there in the mobile version, which accounts for 99% of my screen time in this site). Everything is so crammed and minimized and flattened the visual cues are just not good enough to parse what you're looking at at a glance without putting some effort into it.
All Tha separates this comment from the one below is a thin, almost invisible gray line. It's looks ridiculous.
You are indeed a terrible person. So, Sirius has finally fallen, but why and where? She was originally wrapped up in Talona's adventure I think, but it's been awhile. Plus we now have room for a wish, and I imagine it can be a strong one seeing as Sirius was one of the stronger stars.
Then we have Faust, who's now dead... maybe... I thought Celestia found her rune and it had healing properties? Does it not any longer or is the timeline off?
8266331
Not as many as in the last version.
8266344
Yeah, I have problems with the blogposts being in the side-bar on my homepage/user page. But, we're getting a bit off-topic with all this now.
8265903
My note stands! "Do NOT try to ship Luna and Hades. You will fail." It is one of the oldest, still relevant notes in all my noted notes.
.....
Yeah, I'm totally going to be shipping them...
Stupid habit of ignoring my own notes.
Magnificent, thank you for sharing another chapter.
8266365
You're right, sorry, lol.
You're evil. You are evil. I don't know if you've killed off Faust again or not. You let her see her daughters again, and gave her an epiphany ("huh, I guess I'm not fate"), and if she were going to die, this would be the perfect narrative moment for it. You actually provided some closure concerning her this time, and I could accept it like this. But then that moment with Idiria recalling the stuff about the song, and a star fell. So NOW I have NO idea what's happening, and you're evil.
8266372
lol, they have alot in common, both have powerfully in charge older siblines who push them to the side
Nooooo! Serious! Please don't fall! D:
Please tell us Faust wasn't sirius when she said that to Iridia!
You have an instance of 'twine' where there should be 'twain' in Faust's ramblings.
Just do a find on twine and replace. The material was not mentioned once.
Thing just got SIRIUS!! (rimshot )
thank you, tip your waitress! I'll see my self out .
8267037
Already been corrected.
8266732
Then I have done my job well.
8267802
You and your good writing and strong narratives and shit.
The archived story doesn't work anymore.
You. You did it again...
Now let's see where this takes us.
8272241
The link still worked for me. I imagine that the latest site update made it so only the owner of an unpublished story can see it. That is the only reason I can think of for the link not working any more.
8272436
Yeah, I have... Next chapter is going to be interesting (I hope).
8269162
Thanks! I'm slowly improving.
8267539
8266993
Dad jokes! I love 'em!
8272653
I'm glad you approve
8272627
Blast.
Oh man, and now the wishes! All bets on what changes are off. So many ponies want so many things undone right now.
I hope Soir understands at some point the ramifications of making a bargain with Hades. A favour among Gods is on a whole another level compared to favours between mortals I figure.
8303154
Well, not just gods; it's probably a poor idea to make any sort of bargain with the personification of death, in general.
Seems ironic that Hades has the knowledge to fix Faust right up, if not the capacity at the moment, but he'd probably refuse even if he were so inclined since she sorts of deserves a least a little abuse. Can't say that I like that the authors seems to lean so heavily on Greek mythology tropes, etc.
Um, shouldn't that be sewn legs back on, the order of the words seems wrong as it is currently.
8265891
I think it's more that seeking revenge on Zeus would take Celestia down a dangerous path that could well lead to the destruction of Ioka at her hooves or with her one of the responsible parties. I.e. it's a poor course of action to engage in without thought or consideration. Or maybe some of the Quus might be able to escape due to the conflict between her and Zeus and the alicorns proximity to Ioka and consequently the dangers thus being proximate also is what's being hinted at? That but about a red sun and eyes makes me wonder. To speculate further perhaps there is an intimation that Celestia's battle would tax Sol since she and it are tied together and she draws on it a lot and that could also be devastating to Ioka.
8303154
I doubt she does yet, but I bet she will if the author perseveres long enough to write it out. As a fledgling deity herself, she may as well become accustomed to deals and compromises. Personally I suspect anything Hades asks of her will be perfectly reasonable, though she will likely not like it.
8355732
Ponification? In all serious, insofar as fanfiction goes, Hades is an alicorn and it seems likely that he is Death itself anymore than Iridia is Life. I have to say the power structure and hierarchy are damnably confusing though. That said making a deal so hastily with an alicorn of any stature much less one with thousands of years of history seems ill thought out and risky. I still say he's far from the worst to be making such a bargain with.
In this fic is Tartarus a name for the underworld or does it refer to a pit in the underworld?
That doesn't sound good.
Was this a common practice in pre-modern medicine? I can't find any relation between medicine and sand through via google. Though I imagine the sand is used to soak up spilled blood and thus prevent slipping.
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That was exactly the reason. Sand would be spread on the deck to soak of the blood and so the surgeon and his mates wouldn't slip while working as the ship rolled.
Someone is going to fight Zeus, I just know it. It won't be pretty either.
While I'm still working on catching up the remaining parts of Book Two, I wonder about Sirius. What we see is one of Earth's nearest neighboring star systems, but Sirius is a binary star system. There's allusive value to be wrought from potential duality of Faust's prophecy. Food for thought.
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Iridia is the older sister by a few years. I'd planned at one point to write a story about Iridia and Fausts' arrival on the disc and their formative years, but it fell to the wayside due to other projects. I never even reached the stage of putting down author's notes for the story beyond the generalities I've made for Myths as a whole for their background.
Oof. Dark days and dark deeds indeed. Poor everypony...