• Published 3rd Dec 2012
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Myths and Birthrights - Tundara



Twilight has to deal with new powers and troubles as an Alicorn.

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Book Two: Chapter Seventeen: The City of Secrets

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Sixteen: The City of Secrets


Celestia’s swift steps created a ringing like a chorus of bells. In her shadow, Chronicle almost galloped to keep up as she crossed the palace. He’d served her many years, and it had been thankfully rare to see her so driven by single-minded purpose. This did little to bring him comfort as seeing Celestia actually having to react, rather than act out a predetermined plan, meant events had gone so far off course that it had fallen off the edge of the disc. His sunken, sallow expression highlighting the deep, aged lines of his face only drove Celestia to increase her pace.

Behind them lay a truly horrendous session of Daycourt. Ponies from across Canterlot packed into the marble chamber, all demanding answers on what she was doing to bring back their daughters. The press dubbed the spreading affliction the Sleeping Beauty Curse. City by city, town by town, it continued to grow. And Celestia was helpless to halt its advance. She still wasn’t even sure of the cause. All she could do was lie, and try to reassure the desperate parents.

For the time being, they believed her. They trusted her. She was Celestia, after all, and had seen them through so many crises before.

Even the temporary distraction of Zeus’ arrival was forgiven. His blunt fury on seeing the fillies in the hospital perfectly timed to coincide with the arrival of the press with their flashing cameras and darting pens to catch his promises of seeing the little ones restored did much to deflect criticisms. Celestia’s ‘gentle-stallion caller’ was on their side, and the public’s full attention returned to the deepening crisis.

And now she was distracted by other matters.

Again.

Nopony on the disc was yet aware of what had occurred in the heavens, though they’d learn in only a few, short hours. The stars were gone. Not asleep, but gone. Worse, Luna still hadn’t responded to Celestia’s inquiries, passed along through Sol to Selene. If not for Selene’s assurances that Luna was only occupied, and would contact her when there was a moment, Celestia would have worried that whatever had befallen Twilight had taken Luna as well.

“Princess Luna can take care of herself, your Highness,” Chronicle wheezed as he attempted to keep up. “There are matters here that require your attention. The ambassador for Hackney has been insistent on meeting with you this morning.”

“Hackney is simply trying to remain relevant,” Celestia replied with little conviction.

With everything else that had been going on, she’d allowed the delicate situation with Prance and Hackney to slip in priority. Once Twilight and Luna were home, the fillies were awake, and the threat of insane dead alicorns was finally dealt with she’d return to dealing with the matter of Prance and Hackney. She hoped that Hackney would avoid doing anything stupid in the meantime.

Entering the Royal Quarters, Celestia demanded without preamble, “Have you found them yet?”

Sitting on a lounge, head bowed as she communed with the tides of Love, Cadence didn’t respond at first. Rare impatience flaring, Celestia began to repeat her question, when Cadence fluttered her eyes open and said, “Mother remains in Zebrica. But, Twilight…”

“Is still missing,” Celestia concluded, heart sinking.

“She isn’t dead, though!” Cadence quickly added, tapping a helpless hoof on the edge of her seat. “This is very different. Every time I try to find her, the strands of love simply vanish. They aren’t broken, like when a pony dies, they just… fade. Everypony I try to use as an anchor—You, me, Velvet, Shining, even Iridia—it always has the same result. Twilight is simply somewhere I can’t find her, and she has taken the stars with her.”

Celestia lowered her head as she pondered the possibilities. The only conclusion she reached was that Twilight had left Ioka. Whether this meant Twilight was on Gaea or some other world was immaterial. Before the coming of the Gaeans, the concept of other worlds languished in the realms of fiction or ancient myths. She had so little information on what was beyond the disc or Winterland’s borders. Never before had her lack of knowledge of the greater cosmos been such a pressing issue. But, she did have a source of information.

With a resigned, internal sigh, she asked Cadence to continue looking and went in search of Zeus, leaving Chronicle to deal with the remainder of the day’s more mundane issues.

Since their brief time in Prance, when not lavishing Celestia with attention, the God of Storms spent his time at Notre-Dame de la Chanson. His reason being that, as a god, his place was in the center of Faith. Surprisingly, he was also exceedingly, annoyingly, friendly with Blessed Harmony, the Revered Speaker taking to long chats with the foreign god.

At first, Celestia was glad to have Zeus out of her mane for even a few hours. Suspicions quickly formed when she’d learned with just who Zeus was spending his time. A nagging worry said he was trying to find information about Faust’s plans. He still insisted that Faust would exact some form of revenge.

Flying to the cathedral took only a minute; a long, heavy-minute as Celestia worried for Twilight.

She found Zeus alone in the main nave, gazing up at the oversized statue of Celestia. A deep, contemplative frown pulled at his face, making his bright eyes crinkle in the corners. Little crackles of electricity in his thick, unruly mane and beard gave evidence to the racing nature of his thoughts.

A small group of mares stood to one side, clearly waiting to speak to the foreign god. Others trailed past, shooting him and Celestia suspicious glares as they made their way deeper into the temple. Prayers for the return of their daughters was all they had left.

Turning away from the statue, Zeus put on his habitual smile, natural good humour giving him a vibrant glow. “Another brilliant day you’ve blessed upon this world,” he said by way of greeting, followed by a rumbling chuckle. “Where are we off to visit this time? Are we to help those delightful ponies in Prance? Perhaps there is somewhere else you wish to show me? Or, do you seek some time for us to be alone?”

He waggled his eyebrows and uttered another chuckle at the frown Celestia gave him in return. Behind him, the small group of mares scowled.

“You have been following what has happened in the heavens.” It was neither a suggestion nor a question. Celestia knew for a fact that he kept very close tabs on what occurred above his storms.

Some of Zeus’ good humour faded, and he gave a sour grunt. “Oh, that. It reminds me a bit of home; the wound above Gaea left by Astraea’s final act of defiance. Only, this is all-encompassing. It is rare to see a physical alicorn absorb their charges.”

“As much as I dislike to admit it, I need your help, Zeus. This is beyond my experience.” Centuries of politicking kept the words from sticking in her mouth. “Anything you know would be useful.”

Zeus seemed to consider Celestia for a short while, searching her face before turning upwards in contemplation.

“I refuse to hazard a guess on what has happened, precisely, except that fair Twilight got into a scrap of some sort, and called to her all her stars. I’ve witnessed other gods of the heavens perform similar feats, and have done so myself on occasion. Given that the stars have yet to return, Twilight lost.”

Zeus spoke in the patient but firm tone of a king. His bouncy, youthful exuberance held in check by a commanding, fatherly presence. The playful overgrown colt that had bounded into her court, and demanded her affections was not gone but grown up. He even appeared older, wiser, and more handsome as a result. A few lines of silver speckled in among his beard and at the edges of his mane near his ears.

Focused on Twilight, Celestia noticed the changes to her perceptions but didn’t care. Her heart raced with fear. Fear for Twilight.

“Are you saying Twilight is dead?” Celestia said softly, fighting to contain her dread. Cadence’s reassurances did little to abate the worries swirling in Celestia’s breast.

“Unlikely, my dear,” Zeus said quickly, the force of his conviction, added to Cadence’s, helping to lift Celestia’s spirits. “More likely she has been banished or otherwise cast off the disc itself. The stars are more attuned to the hidden pathways between the godly realms than the charges of more terrestrial alicorns. Far more so than other physical aspects. Much like Astraea, she probably reacted to protect herself and teleported away. What we require is a god or goddess of the Hunt. Somepony who can track through the depths of the Winterlands, and into realms beyond the sight of mortals. Ioka has no such gods, however, so we may need to journey to Gaea and enlist the assistance of my daughter. Niomedes will be able to find Twilight, no matter where she has run.”

Celestia strongly disliked the idea of going to Gaea for any period of time. The stories Tyr and Zeus spun of the world made it appear barbaric and cruel. A world where war and callous disregard for others was the norm. But, if it meant finding Twilight, she was willing.

They may even find Twilight already there.

Before she voiced her agreement, another thought occurred to her. Ioka may lack a dedicated alicorn of tracking, but there was a pony even more proficient than Cadence when it came to finding the lost.

Stifling a sigh, Celestia shook her head, and repeated Faust’s parting words, “‘When you require my assistance, I’ll be with my sister.’ We must go speak with Faust.”

A whisper of amusement twinkled in the corners of Zeus’ eyes. “Yes, her connection to the Weave of Fate certainly would give her an advantage.”

Celestia didn’t wait to perform any of the thousand little tasks necessary to leave the palace running in her absence: doppelgangers or stand-ins, notes to Chronicle, instructions for the Madam Speaker of the House of Ladies, the Commandant General of the Cloud Conclave, and the Prime Chancellor of the House of Commons. She trusted them all to act according to their own interests for a day or two in her absence. Failing that, they’d uselessly bicker until she returned.

It wasn’t as if there was anything important for the government to handle at the moment.

Filled with urgency, she cast aside the myriad reasons why leaving the various branches of government alone was an idea liable to bring disaster.

Only a brief few decades since her last visit to the Taiga, Celestia found it much the same. Even the nature of her visit was much the same. Then, too, it had been in search of a missing Sparkle. She hoped her visit this time would be more productive.

Reinalla was precisely identical to her memories of the small town. Still a haphazard collection of differing architectural stylings between the halls of the various lodges. Cottages dotted the rolling hills and along the narrow, fast flowing stream running through the center of the town. A band cleared of trees circled the town. Evenly spaced menhirs served as anchors for a magical barrier that warded off the dangerous wildlife and beasts of the forest, while also hiding the town from unwanted guests.

Likewise, Thornhaven remained as it had for the past three thousand or so years. The precise date of the castle’s construction was as murky as the records of the Golden Era from any nation outside Faust’s empire of Thulesia.

A large herd gathered in the western fields attracted Celestia’s attention. Iridia and Faust stood out amongst the dark brown coats of the Halla. The queens relaxed on a spread blanket, watching groups of fawns race back and forth across the field, each carrying a long stick with a basket on the end used to hurl a large wooden ball. Celestia recalled only a few details of the game, enough to know it was fairly similar to Hoofball. One of the youngsters, putting on a burst of speed, shoved his way through the opponents’ line, lept up to catch a daring pass, and spun on landing to score a goal. The crowd bellowed and snorted with approval.

It was then that Celestia and Zeus were noticed, a few Halla pointing at the descending alicorns.

“Oh, what is it now?” Iridia snapped even before Celestia had settled her wings against her sides. “Come to gloat? To rub in how you were right about me and Twilight? Well, you were. I’ve driven her away, just as I did everypony else important to me! Happy?”

Caught off guard, Celestia had a rare moment of not knowing how to respond.

Puffy eyes stared daggers at Celestia, and for an instant, she hoped that Twilight’s departure somehow involved Iridia. At least then the mystery would be solved. It did little to answer why Luna was silent, or the stars vanishing. After another half-second, Celestia dismissed the idea. Whatever had happened between Iridia and Twilight, something else was responsible for Twilight’s disappearance.

It also went against Iridia’s nature to sit idle when anypony she loved was in trouble.

Further confirmation came from Faust, her wing touching Iridia’s withers in a comforting gesture. “They have come to speak with me, sister. There are questions only I can answer. We will only be a moment.”

Pushing herself up, Faust indicated Celestia and Zeus should move away from the field. Eyes followed them, some suspicious, some curious, but most returned to the game. Except for Iridia, who pouted and scowled at her sister and niece.

“I have three things to tell you, then you should return to Canterlot,” Faust said without preamble as they reached the shade of a tree. “Luna and Fluttershy are safe, for the time being. They are concentrating on maintaining a barrier around Zerubaba. Thanes lay siege to the city, the same ones who have been collecting the souls of fillies across Ioka under orders from Hades.”

Celestia clamped her jaw tight to refrain from interrupting, follow-up questions burning through her head. Zeus had no such qualms, and let out a harsh snort.

“My brother is many things, but he would not unleash the thanes in such a manner. It goes against the natural order, and there is no pony more duty-bound than Hades.”

Faust gave him a scathing glare, frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Dear cousin, you hold your brother in too much esteem. Hades’ thread shines with a deep hunger for vengeance, and Twilight has become the focus of his attention. Their threads are bound in a way I’ve seen only among lovers and the deepest of enemies. Either one destroys the other, or…”

She trailed off and shook her head.

“If either of you goes, the other will follow, and you will fight. It is only natural. You will side with your family and doom the disc. Before my death I spent centuries peering down the strands of the Weave, seeing all the myriad ways the strands could combine, and whenever the two of you fought all others burned away. The Weave itself unraveled and was devoured. I drove myself mad trying to prevent such destruction but to do so meant devastation elsewhere. In my frustration to prevent all harm, my mind began to unravel. Harmony seemed an impossibility. But, Harmony is not found in nations, nor is it found in the future, but in the here and now, in the burdens we chose to bear, and bear well.”

Faust tapped her breast.

“Our burdens are to know that our family battles, and abstain from involvement.”

Zeus bristled. Celestia was quiet, contemplative, searching her heart and trying to come up with some counter-argument, or plan.

“There is something else…” Faust spoke, voice suddenly hesitant, and gaze drifting to the grass between her hooves. “Something I dare not give a voice for fear of shattering it like a stone going through a stained glass window. If the Fates decree it to be so, I see the potential of so much joy. But, that joy could so easily be turned to rancor and enmity. No, I must stay quiet, and here where I can do less harm. I know you want me to return to Canterlot, or failing that, patch things with Luna. But, I do not know how to speak to her.”

“I would like both things, immensely.” Celestia sighed. “I also know that they are just dreams, mother. Beautiful, wonderful dreams. I am no longer a filly who needs your approval. A thousand years I watched over Equestria alone, for all intents and purposes. I am my own mare and have been so for some time. All my greatest mistakes were made trying to act how I thought you would direct. Fostering Tyr, keeping my powers repressed, and so many other decisions great and small. Having cast them all aside, and re-affirmed myself, I am at peace at long last. I will return to Canterlot, not because you say I must, but because I trust Twilight. ”

Faust gave a slight nod and looked up through her bangs. “I was never the mother you or Luna deserved, my sweet, little Tia. I gave you everything, and her only hardship and suffering. In disguise I was your mentor, and so proud of you. And I feared Luna. I feared her eventual Fall. I feared the Nightmare, and having to choose between my daughters, and knowing for all those years with which one I’d side when my hoof was inevitably forced.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Every fibre of Twilight’s being stung as if she were being jabbed by a billion needles. While the annoying sensation passed quickly, deeper aches in her essence persisted. Hissing, she rolled to her hooves, breast aching where she’d been struck by Hades’ magic.

She wasn’t too concerned about losing the fight. So long as she regrouped with her friends and the princesses, she was certain that Hades would be defeated. If she’d only waited for Luna and the others, everything would have gone differently.

Looking around, Twilight discovered wholly unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a narrow passageway filled with a thick gloom that dimmed her vision and congealed into utter blackness only a few short spans beyond her snout. Channeling magic into her horn resolved what she’d initially mistaken for oddly shaped bricks into the spines of books and stacks of scrolls lining shelves that stretched out and up beyond sight.

Joy and a comforting sense of familiarity wrapped itself around her. She briefly wondered if perhaps she’d died and gone to Elysium. Except, all the accounts of Elysium were rather uniform in nature; Golden fields surrounding a city of silver and platinum spires that stretched for miles into the sky. Though there was nothing to indicate what was inside that city, Twilight doubted it’d be an abandoned library.

Pulling a scroll at random off the shelf sent a small cascade of dust puffing into the air. The familiar crinkle and musty scent of aged parchment caressed Twilight’s ears and nose.

Quickly, she scanned the faded script, looking for a sign of where she was in the library.

Assuming it used a contemporary system of organization, Twilight was confident she’d be able to find her way out.

Fourth day of the Old Spring Moon, Year of Dancing Badgers; Today Able Downy slept with Miss Nutmeg in the loft of the barn. They spent the afternoon together before Able snuck back home and lied to his wives where he’d been. He keeps promising Nutmeg he will broach the subject of her joining the herd. He kept silent again today.

A series of marks at the bottom of the page reminded Twilight of the ancient cuneiform scripts uncovered in the eastern deserts.

Frowning at the odd nature of the scroll, she slid it back into its slot and removed another.

This scroll was near identical, except giving a tally of a shipment of grain. Able Downy used the proceeds to afford some jewelry for his first wife, and a fancy bonnet for his second wife.

The utterly mundane nature of the scrolls stymied Twilight. It wasn’t even stuff that would have been worthy of printing in the Equestrian Enquirer.

Tossing the light overhead revealed endless rows of books, scrolls, and documents stretching for miles. Dust clung to the shelves and the spines of books, thick cobwebs filled the spaces of scroll racks, and skulls leered in the gloom. Twilight blinked a couple times and looked closer. Skeletons dotted the aisles here and there, leaning against the shelves, heads slumped in death. Some possessively clutched scrolls and books, while a few seemed to have died trying to run away from something. A quick look around showed no less than seven such skeletons in the aisle.

Her enthusiasm quickly turned to resignation, and she muttered a low oath.

For hours she wandered the giant, ancient library using magic to mark her passing. Quickly, she established a lack of logic to the corridors of books. History texts mingled among personal notes; atlases of worlds Twilight had never heard of butted against mundane diaries; great tomes of archaic knowledge penned in unrecognizable languages sat beneath heaps of shopping lists. All in all, the library was in dire need of a good sorting.

Twilight fell into thought as she wandered. The stars slumbered inside her, a slight hum surrounding them as they dreamt. She felt so strong, so powerful. Capable of anything. Yet, so very heavy. The light of her stars flowed through every fiber of her being, radiating power as she’d never before felt but leaving her sluggish, her legs leaden and steps heavy.

Beyond the weight of the stars, her failure pressed down on her back. Her confidence was shattered. To call her confrontation with Hades a ‘fight’ would have been the grossest of exaggerations.

Twilight bit her tongue, anger casting a deep red glow in the cores of her eyes. She had no idea how to defeat Hades and rescue all the fillies he’d stolen.

Centering herself, she decided to put the stars back into the heavens. If she required them, she could bring them back at any time.

To her dismay, the stars refused to leave her. They swirled around her imaginary hoof like leaves suspended in water. Taking firm hold of Polaris, Twilight attempted to move the Lodestar alone. The strands binding her to Polaris stretched, and then met hard resistance before it snapped back like a rubber band.

Mouth suddenly dry, Twilight craned her head up and separated her essence from her body, and flew towards the bleak, empty sky. The library stretched out in every direction for miles before disappearing into inky shadows. Putting the impossibility of the structure’s size out of mind, Twilight focused on reaching the heavens and restoring her stars to their rightful places. She slammed into the ceiling and bounced off its unyielding surface.

Invisible eyes widening and mouth falling open, Twilight pressed a ghostly hoof to the hard stone. She’d always been able to pass through objects in her ethereal form. On closer inspection, Twilight saw that the stone was composed of spider silk thin strands of crystalized aether. Where she touched they glimmered with a soft violet hue.

Descending back to her body, worry and building frustrations twisted her ethereal form. She had to find a way out of the library and back to Southstone Spires.

The library remained lifeless the rest of the ‘day’. Trusting her innate ability to tell when she should have been waking and setting the stars, she wandered aimlessly. After a couple hours she slowed, brow pinched into a tight furrow and checked for the hundredth time how long until she needed to have the stars back in the heavens. And, for the hundredth time, her inner-clock told her it was a little less than a half-hour until sunset.

Time had progressed. Just, completely at odds to how it should have on the disc. Hours turned into days, and minutes rushed into hours. Either, it was racing within the library relative to Ioka and her perception of time was locked to its passage on the disc, or…

She didn’t want to contemplate the ‘Or’.

Worried the library had done something to her, Twilight began to hurry. All the aisles looked the same, broken by identical hubs, desks where librarians should have been sat empty and covered by thick layers of dust. Even Twilight began to lose her way until she, at last, found a variation in the depths of the maze.

Turning a corner, her path was blocked by a toppled shelf. Charred remnants of scrolls, books, and bits of wood heaped on the ground. A tuft of black mane lodge in the sharp edge of a shelf made her stomach churn. Glittering, dried silver blood was splattered across one side of the aisle.

A dozen hemmravn skittered and jumped across the shelves, holding scraps of parchment in their beaks. The large twin-headed spirits worked under the guidance of a particularly large hemmravn, its primaries tipped white from age. As Twilight stood transfixed, several of the spirits alighted on the fallen shelves, and with unified flaps lifted it back into position.

Done, the elder spirit turned its beady eyes on Twilight and let out a harsh caw. The other spirits all stopped what they were doing and spun towards Twilight, feathers ruffled in anger.

Snapped out of her daze, Twilight waved and quickly said, “Hello. Sorry to intrude, but, could you tell me where I am?” Under her breath she added, “And the time?”

The hemmravn shared looks, cawed to each other, and then took off in a flurry of black feathers.

“Wait!” Twilight desperately shouted, wings extending and with a kick, she launched herself after the spirits.

The hemmravn didn’t go far. Twilight picked out several other groups at work repairing similar damage to the library, setting aisles back in what they obviously considered order. These other groups joined the first until they formed into a shrieking black cloud. Over a raised section of the library, the unkindness began to circle like a black feathered storm.

At the center of the noisy spirits was a large throne, on which reclined a small pony.

Twilight blinked a couple times, surprised to see another alicorn, mostly as she found it impossible to sense the presence of anypony but herself.

Further surprises followed as Twilight recognized the alicorn as Shyara from Celestia’s descriptions. Except, she appeared only a few years younger than Twilight, rather than a filly the same apparent age as the crusaders.

Shyara lounged on a throne of books, tended by flocks of hemmravn. The obsidian feathered, birdlike spirits brought their mistress scroll after scroll, dropping them into her waiting aura before flapping off back into the giant library’s depths. Dozens more rested on the swooped back. A bowl of dark chocolate covered cherries rested on a mahogany table at her side, along with a glass of ruby red wine. In a stand behind the low table stood a wicked looking scythe, nobbed with bonelike ridges and a gleaming aurichalcum blade.

Dark bandages covered much of the young goddess, poking out at the cuffs of a long black gown trimmed in deep blues. A patch covered one eye, and the other side of her face was a mess of burnt flesh hidden behind a thin veil. She moved in the slow, precise manner of a pony avoiding aggravating sore limbs.

She looked up as Twilight approached, a scowl sharp as knives beneath her veil.

“Who goes there? How are you here?” Shyara jumped from her throne and glided down to Twilight. Missing patches of feathers made her flight unstable. Her hooves skipped over the worn tiles as she pulled up just short. Incredulity burned in her single eye and was quickly replaced by hope. In a rush she was hugging Twilight, face pressed deep into Twilight’s neck. She smelled strongly of spice and fire. “Mother, I thought you were gone! That the demon destroyed you forever when you rescued me and Trixie.”

Pushing Shyara back a little, Twilight said, “I think you have me confused for somepony else.”

Surprise, hurt, and anger flushed Shyara’s face as her deadly scowl returned. On her back alighted the ancient hemmravn Twilight had followed, a cruel sneer on the spirit’s beak. Quickly, she put more distance between her and Twilight.

“Imposter,” Shyara spat, ears curled over her head, and tail lashing like a whip. “Why do you wear my mother’s face? Why do you feel the same as her? Who are you?”

“She is Twilight. Living god. Dead god,” cried the hemmravn in Equestrian from both beaks. “Once Astraea. Torn in two. Half now Twilight, half now dead, all one soul. Iridia at fault. Iridia who took a shade-not-shade and smoothed the jagged wound and gave her new life. But still not whole. Still half-dead.”

Shrieking with laughter, the hemmravn took flight and wheeled overhead once before rejoining its brethren.

“Once Astraea?” Shyara repeated, her dark eye following the spirit, then returning to Twilight. “You’re Twilight,” she stated between clenched teeth. “Trixie warned me you were a thief, but to steal not just my mother’s domain…” Her voice trailed off into a growl.

“I haven’t stolen anything.” Twilight shot back, irritation crawling beneath her skin. She tried to piece together how Shyara was in the library. The last information she had was that Shyara and the Crusaders went missing beneath Iridia’s castle and that the Crusaders were being held prisoner by Hades. “How did you get here? Did you escape from Hades somehow?”

It was Shyara’s turn to shake her head, though she wobbled and raised a hoof to her temple, a hissed intake of breath caught in her throat. “Lord Hades? I have no idea what you are blabbering about.” Favoring her bandaged legs, Shyara said, “I don’t want to stand. Sit and tell me everything.”

Shyara beckoned towards the gloom, and another lounge emerged and floated to rest next to her throne. Wine was likewise summoned, and bowls of cherries and ruby red apples produced.

“I really have to get back,” Twilight shifted from hoof to hoof. “Everypony is counting on me. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here. Time here is… wrong.”

“It is a little more condensed, that is all. If you want to leave, I may be able to help. However, I want to hear your story, so please, come and join me.” Shyara’s eye burned with a frosty gleam as she limped up the steps, pausing halfway to stare back at Twilight.

Stifling a sigh, Twilight trudged after the young alicorn. Shyara was breathing heavily by the time they reached the lounge-thrones, and one of her bandages glimmered with a silver stain. Twilight decided to wait on asking what had happened to give Shyara such wounds.

“Where, uh, are we, exactly?” Twilight hesitantly asked, glancing around the endless library with something almost like reverence.

If she weren’t pressed for time, with a tyrant stampeding over Ioka stealing fillies’ souls, Twilight could have spent epochs in the library pouring over every book and scroll.

“This is the Hidden Library, where all knowledge is kept,” Shyara made a sweeping gesture encompassing the mammoth library. “Where every secret or hidden truth placed on parchment, every book or scroll ever written is archived. All mysteries are categorized and shelved, from the greatest to the smallest; all are contained here. And it is all mine, apparently.” She watched with bright anticipation as the bowl of fruit was pushed towards Twilight by a trio of hemmravn.

Twilight’s mouth fell open, and she softly repeated, “Every book or scroll,” several times.

The sheer amount of knowledge surely contained in the limitless volumes overwhelmed Twilight. Mundane secrets certainly comprised the bulk, as she’d already uncovered. But, the number of disc shattering truths hidden within the expansive library weighed heavier still. Things like knowledge of the library itself, the workings of the Winterlands and the realms hidden within its frosty boundaries. Spells and runes long believed lost, or purposefully destroyed. Lost cities, civilizations, and the worlds beyond Ioka could be discovered. The true nature of the alicorns, and the origins of creation itself, both long theorized with little result in finding answers. And these were but the ‘great’ mysteries, excluding for the time being the personal, private, or small. Plots by nations or individuals. The identities of criminals, and wrongly accused innocents.

“How could such a place exist, and no pony even guess it was waiting out here?” Twilight wondered out loud, though the answer was obvious in that it was the nature of the place. What could be a bigger secret than the place where secrets were stored?

Except, ponies knew of the hemmravn and their skulking ways. How the spirits were always listening, always watching from shadowed branches of dark corners. If a unicorn needed an answer to some question, and was proficient with conjurations, summoning a hemmravn and bargaining for the knowledge was the surest method of finding that answer. Twilight had observed Velvet use the spell on a few occasions. The spirit listened to her question, then flew off and returned sometime later. Logic said the spirit was going somewhere to retrieve the answers.

Perhaps there was something about the library that kept ponies from thinking about its existence, from making the simple connections that such a place had to exist.

After eating a few bites, Twilight asked, “How did you get here? I heard that Iridia took you and the Crusaders—”

“How are they?” Shyara asked quickly, leaning on the edge of her seat and concern contorting the edges of her mouth. “Did they manage to escape? Last I saw of them they were running for a Gateway, but whether it was open or not I wasn’t sure. Did they make it back to Ioka? I’ve asked the hemmravn to look, but they have been busy undoing the damage my arrival caused.”

Twilight’s face twisted into a grimace, and she shook her head slowly as she said the Crusaders were being held prisoner by Hades. Shyara tilted her head and tapped her chin with a hoof.

“Is that why you asked about Lord Hades? Well, they will be safe with him,” Shyara concluded, giving a pleased nod. “He is a stickler for the rules and has little interest in the living if he is not crossed. Unless Apple Bloom has taken up necromancy in the last week, I see no reason he’d have to harm the crusaders.”

Anger, hate, and humiliation all burned Twilight’s cheeks. Her wings flared like bladed sails, and her voice crackled. “Tell that to all the fillies on Ioka who have had their souls stolen by his thanes!”

Behind her lace veil, Shyara pinched her brows together. “That doesn’t sound like something Lord Hades would ever do. He is perhaps the most oath-bound of the alicorns. Few take their duty as serious as he.”

“Yeah, there is a long history of alicorns going against their ‘duty’ on Ioka,” Twilight couldn’t contain her snort. “Faust flew off for thousands of years. Luna went mad and tried to bring about eternal night. And Iridia refused to bring the Spring, so ponies had to do that, too, for a couple dozen centuries.”

Pouring herself more wine, and swirling the ruby liquid in her glass, Shyara said, “Yes. We should have bypassed Ioka. Astraea intended to send us somewhere safe. A world home to one of the Seven Great Sins is hardly what I would call ideal.”

“The answer is probably here,” Twilight waved a hoof at the library.

“Probably,” Shyara agreed with a wistful, proud smile. Then she leaned forward and asked, “How is it you ended up here? I only just arrived a short time ago myself.”

The next several minutes were taken up by explanations by both on how they came to the Endless Library. Shyara listened politely as Twilight detailed her encounter with Hades, while Twilight balked at the descriptions of Sweetie’s brutality.

“You must be mistaken,” she said after Shyara told Twilight what happened at the makeshift bridge. “Sweetie could never do something like that!”

“I agree it does seem unlikely. Yet, I saw her kill a half-dozen Diamond Dogs. I never thought of her as a heroic figure, but heroes can emerge from many places. She saved her friends, and me, many times over in those tunnels. And then again when Thuban cornered us in the Garden of Crossroads. She is… my friend, I suppose. But more than that.” Shyara rolled her wings in a long shrug. “Friendship seems so paltry applied to a pony you owe your life, who fought beside you against impossible odds, who risked her life and sanity for the sake of those she loved. On Gaea she’d be a Champion, a Hero in service of the Gods. On Ioka, I don’t know what she is. Out of place, I suppose. Yours is no longer a world meant for great heroes.”

Twilight nodded slowly, her heart racing with thoughts of Pinkie, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow, and Rarity. And even Fleur, Hardy, and Timely. They were her friends and had ventured into danger beside her, or because of her. In a way, all the Bellerophons were something akin to friends, and family.

She’d let them down, all of them.

They’d prayed to her, sought her help, and she’d ignored them. For hours she pushed their prayers aside.

Let them die.

How many? Twilight didn’t want to guess. Enough, given it’d been the Princess Platinum bearing down on them, the larger ship spitting fire and death as she thrust through the waves. Ophelia wasn’t alone in being dragged into the doctor’s care.

And now Sweetie…

The image of the Crusaders next to Hades’ thrones surged to the surface. Sweetie, her mane lanky and gaze dead, devoid of innocence or laughter pierced Twilight to the core.

“What would Rarity say if she knew what had happened to Sweetie,” Twilight whispered, head hung in profound weariness. “What I allowed to happen.”

A heavy stillness settled over the library, broken only by the distant flutter of wings. Twilight fell further and further into depression. She’d failed everypony. Over and over, the faces of all those she could have saved, or helped, or guided flared before her eyes. Rarity, Trixie, Ophelia, Hattmettren, Sweetie, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and on and on. She even imagined the face of her biological father. She knew nothing about him, except that he might not have even known about her. Doubts circled over where the truth lay.

“I wish I’d sent Iridia away sooner,” Twilight growled, hooves digging into the soft fabric of the sofa. “I wish she’d never come into my life. I wish I'd never left Equestria. I wish I'd been there for everypony when they needed me. I wish I hadn't failed them all.”

“Well, I am unable to help in that regard, but if there is anything you wish to know, I may be of some assistance,” Shyara said, her tone light as she jumped off her couch, and stumbled a little.

Twilight stretched off her couch, catching Shyara before she could fall. Shyara recoiled a little at the touch of Twilight’s hoof on her shoulder and looked away with a soft scowl on her features.

The offer was very tempting. No, it was something she was going to accept. There were too many questions buzzing in the back of her head that needed answers. Little things, perhaps, or maybe big things. Words, snippets of conversations, actions taken, and not taken; they built in the back of her head.

From Leviathan and her twisted sense of a ‘game’, and her prophetic words, ‘You must play the game. There is no other option.’ Leviathan’s voice rang in Twilight’s head like a bell, and with a groan, she began to pace. Thoughts raced over every choice made since she’d Awakened, every encounter, trial, or fight. Leviathan and her ‘game’, where Twilight abstained and thought that was right, and so many ponies died. Faust running off, and the subsequent fight with Zeus that devastated Prance. Could she have made a difference there? Could she have saved anypony? Again and again, her mind returned to Leviathan’s taunts.

She needed confirmation of a theory.

“Did I make a mistake when confronting Leviathan?”

There were so many other questions that were more pressing. Strategies on how to defeat Hades. How to rescue the stolen souls. Corroboration of his claims that she was partly dead.

Yet, it was Leviathan’s words that rankled deepest. Events in Zerubaba only further heaped doubt on her choice that day.

She’d saved Pinkie and Princess Hattmettren from a shade. She’d saved the Bellerophon. Perhaps she was meant to save others as well. Such as the father she’d never met.

Or Rarity.

Shyara hesitated, some argument half-formed, and then was dismissed with a shrug of her withers. Through pursed lips she let out a long whistle that carried throughout the infinite shadowy depths of the library. Several minutes passed, and then an elder hemmravn emerged from the gloom with a scroll bound in ivory and gold clutched in its claws. Wheeling around Twilight, the spirit dropped the scroll case into a waiting aura. Quickly, Twilight undid the clasps and pulled out a length of fresh parchment.

Let it be recorded here-in,
Beneath the midday-moon,
And black-ringed sun,
Did Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya,
She who presides over the Night,
Mistress of the Stars and Wishes,
Guardian of the Sacred Vales,
Battle the First Great Sin,
The millstone scaled serpent,
Devourer of Marelantis,
Mother of Monsters;
Leviathan, Demon Queen of Envy.

Presented with a choice,
Glorious maned Twilight,
Of the six-thousand diamonds,
Electing to follow the bloodiest path,
Laid down her spell and sword,
And in so doing ensured her own defeat.

~The Book of Polaris, 2:16

Silently, Twilight rolled the scroll back up and placed it into the case. With precise motions, she set it aside. Once done, she brought her hoof up to her chest, took a deep breath, and exhaled in a controlled rush. Repeating the exercise did little to slow the thrumming in her chest, or push back the bookshelves looming over her as if about to collapse.

Her usual techniques only dulled the torrent of anxiety battering the inside of her chest.

Laying her hoof over the scroll case, Twilight said to herself, “It seemed the most logical action; refusing her terms. I was so certain. So arrogant. And it cost so many ponies everything. How did I go wrong?”

The question came half-unbidden, issued in a hoarse whisper that she didn’t fully hear. The nature of the library was such that any question once asked would be answered once the Goddess of Secrets permitted those answers to be given.

Another scroll appeared, this one with a long stream held on embossed silver rollers with tassels of manticore mane. Hesitantly, Twilight reached for the second scroll. Her aura fluttered, spitting off a few sparks. She was met by an elegant script cascading down the page.

Dear Diary,

It has been nigh onto a thousand years since last I wrote, and much has progressed. All my plans came and are coming to fruition. Twilight has taken my bait, but how could she do otherwise when I took one of her friends? Her triumphs over Nightmare Moon and Discord give her overabundant confidence. Confidence her trials in the Crystal Caves did little to abate. And now, fully in possession of her latent powers, she grows bold and ripe for mistakes that will crash down on those around her.

My pact with Faust nears an end. She believes it is I about to fall into her trap, but I am the one who lays the snares and will catch my prey. And my prey draws nearer beneath a tower of white wings. Our games are old and span centuries or millennia, and it is easy for false victories to blind oneself of the dangers ahead. False victories I have lain aplenty at the hooves of the newest contender.

Faust is yet to suspect that through her I can plum the depths of the Weave, and do so hourly as she lay in her long sleep. With her, I may pluck at strands future and past, and see such delicious disasters looming.

Thousands burnt and buried by an impossible storm. Firstborn daughters taken by an invisible plague. Tartarus rising from the depths to consume a mortal city. A black-clad tyrant astride a ruby throne, and beneath their hoof all tremble in despair. But, most satisfying of all, my dear Faust dieing in her daughter's hooves, a victim of her own hubris to believe that I could be bested.

Warned her time and again I have that if I may not possess her, then none will. Harmony is mine alone.

Hush, time to lay down my quill and prepare my tongue, for I sense Twilight’s approach. It is now a matter of which defeat she will select. Careful, I must act, so that she elects no path, and her sorrows grow a hundredfold as she learns of all those she may have saved.

Twilight thrust the scroll away from her as she would a hive of bees. The edges of her vision turned red. Throughout her the stars swirled in a raging storm, screaming in her ears, howling at Leviathan’s deceit.

Quickly, she snarled, “Who could I have saved during the eclipse if I hadn’t rejected Leviathan’s… ‘Game’?”

Again, the answers came carried in black talons to be deposited in her waiting grip and again, Twilight took the scroll case with building dread. Dark as liquid night, held in boney clasps, it fought against being unfurled. Latches scraped along the surface like boney wingtips across stone. A musty waft like the loam of a sodden graveyard hit Twilight in the face as the case yielded its contents.

Her aura sputtered as it pulled free a list.

A far-too-long list.

Some of the names were bold with flourishes, others plain and written in a cramped script.

Serene’s name headed the list, seeming to writhe with a life of its own.

Rarity’s name followed in the most elegant lines and flourishes, half faded so that the ‘Y’ was nearly invisible.

Trixie Lulamoon stood out being bolded with a strong underline.

Underneath lay the flowing script for Thundering Mountain.

It was the length of the list that struck Twilight the most.

Hundreds of names morosely gazed back. So many as to have been broken down further by affiliations. Headings for Halla, villagers of Diamonds Down, and the crew of the Bellerophon were bolded in red ink, with the remainder unsorted.

Rolling the scroll and setting it into the small, mostly decorative pouches on her dress Twilight released a long breath. The revelations held an impossible weight, clutching her side and tugging at her back. Anger flickered through her jaw and down the curved slope of her throat, lodging itself there until she released it in a snarl.

She straightened, wings stiff at her sides and chin thrust forward. Determination blazed in her eyes. The core of her mane darkened as it grew, edges aglow with a cutting white gleam. Tears in her dress mended, and her crown was made whole. The edges of her essence pulsed, holes and tears in the core of her being she’d never noticed twisting in vain to close and heal. Her brow creased, and she turned to Shyara.

“Take me to Thuban.”

Shyara nodded, and lead Twilight into the twisting nexus of the library.

They found Thuban sprawled amidst a crater of ruined books and crushed shelves, limbs twisted and hardened in rictus. The Stellar Dragon, most powerful of the beasts created by Nightmare Moon to hunt Celestia, was dead. A deep-blue crystal lance, tall as a clock tower, pierced Thuban through the chest while several other smaller shards pinned wings, tail, and neck as though creating a giant display in an entomologist’s collection.

Twilight gaped at the destruction and the body of her star. A star stolen long before she’d even existed. Slowly, silently, she paced around the body. Up close she could feel Thuban’s lingering essence resonate with the core of her own being.

Shuffling along behind Twilight, Shyara gave a nervous laugh. “We fought for a week, through world after world, until we ended up here and I smote the beast’s ruin.” Shyara paused and shot a sideways glance at Twilight. “Whoever corrupted the great star did magnificent work. If Astraea had thought to do so, she could have made an army, loyal only to her, and conquered Gaea.”

A low noise rumbled through Twilight.

“I have no intention of conquering.” Twilight touched the tip of her wing to Thuban’s broad brow.

Even in death, the Stellar Dragon sparkled with the light of stars. She was beautiful in so many ways. Twilight’s heart swelled and an unshed tear blurred her vision.

Without any real thought or understanding of what she was doing, Twilight pulled. Streams sparkled across Thuban, meandering over scaled ridges and horned hills until they reached the edges of Twilight’s feathers. There they vanished, plunging into her in a rush like rivers beneath the earth. Down, down, down into her core, the aether cascaded, pooling near the edges of her oceanic reserves.

From the many broken strands littering the cavern of her inner being, she gathered one. A braid that hummed as it glowed softly. Into it, she directed Thuban’s remaining energies. Aether began to crystallize, filling cracks along the chain until it reached the broken end. New links formed and created a fresh rainbow-hued chain that began to sing a plaintive melody. Dancing light, flowing magic, and music all swirled together, until, in a sudden burst of motion and sound, it ended.

Then there was Thuban, spinning among the false heavens of Twilight’s soul with all her sisters.

Thuban opened her ‘eyes’, and in a hesitant murmur said, “I have had such a nightmare,” before the same sleep that held her sisters fell across her as well.

Twilight whispered soft nothings to the restored star. A lightness overcame Twilight like she’d just discovered her cutie mark, or Awakened again. Vitality soothed the last lingering aches of her fight with Hades. Part of her that had been missing was filled, and there were so many more pieces yet to recover.

Opening her eyes, she beheld that the body of the Stellar Dragon was gone. Shyara stood beside her, a sharp tint to her good eye.

“We need a way back to Ioka,” Twilight said.

Shyara gave a knowing grin.

Author's Note:

Well, this chapter has taken a long time to get to this point. There are still some aspects with which I am not wholly happy. Little things that I could spend ages tweaking and shifting and not get anywhere. I'm past the point of pushing this out of the nest, for my own good.

Celestia's portion of the chapter is what I consider more akin to Housekeeping. Things that needed to be dealt with in some fashion to avoid questions further down the road like, 'Why isn't (Insert Character) doing something?'

And then there is Twilight's section. Working with a character as established as Twilight can be difficult at times. And then I recall that this Twilight split off from her counterpart in the show mid-Season 3. Despite how much I've meandered with characters over the course of Myths, Twilight was and is the central most character. I hope I've done a decent enough job showing her development here, especially with what comes next for her. The next chapter is 100% Twilight (and sitting north of 10k words, unfinished.)

Very nearly went back and did some rewrites just now (as I was putting this Author's Notes together prior to posting the chapter)... I really need to stop fiddling with this chapter...

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