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Chapter 1: The Forest Ways13,357 words
Chapter 2: A New Lease on Life12,247 words
Chapter 3: Over the River12,987 words
Chapter 4: The Players14,979 words
Chapter 5: A Whole New World12,818 words
Chapter 6: The Stage10,470 words
Chapter 7: Reunion10,025 words
Chapter 8: Dream Made Flesh14,475 words
Chapter 9: Turning a Page14,869 words
Chapter 10: The Chase14,836 words
Chapter 11: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow11,175 words
Chapter 12: Great Expectations17,673 words
Chapter 13: The City13,992 words
Chapter 14: Convergence15,395 words
Chapter 15: The Palace10,846 words
Chapter 16: The Well13,845 words
Chapter 17: Regrets12,161 words
Chapter 18: Aurora12,062 words
Chapter 19: The Princess10,803 words
Chapter 20: The Breaking13,025 words
Chapter 21: Rebellion15,823 words
Chapter 22: Our Guiding Star19,400 words
Chapter 23: The Immanent Horizon19,930 words
Epilogue - Part 114,241 words
Epilogue - Part 211,515 words
Bonus Epilogue: The Shadow of the Moon15,120 words

Chapter 20: The Breaking

Chapter 20: The Breaking

“And I saw, and beheld a white horse: and she that sat on her had a sword and a cup; and a ring was given unto her: and she went forth conquering, and to conquer.” A forgotten goblin.

Amelia

The tolling of a great bell reached us as we descended from on high. Winter had come for Mag Mell with all its attendant demons in a blanket of ice-tinged gales, but I was about to teach the ancient city—or, at least, a small portion of it—to fear fire instead.

Within moments of our appearance in the sky, airships wheeled about bravely above the great city to face our approach. In other circumstances, I might have hesitated, knowing that the city was on a defensive footing. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what a frost giant really was, but apparently Mag Mell had fended them off yearly for who knows how long. Were I on my own, I’d have abandoned the entire mad idea.

I wasn’t alone, though. I had Celestia and everything she represented. As I turned her down into an aggressive dive, the clouds shattered and broke to admit the searing light of the sun.

A sun that hadn’t been there before, either, but that’s the sort of advantage you get when you ride an alicorn.

The crews aboard their crafts reeled at the sudden brightness of day, and Celestia and I shot past the first line of defenders without so much as a single shot fired. By now, bells were ringing out across the city, pealing their desperate cries to the defenders at the walls and gates. Yes, I answered them with silent, fierce grin, come, Cup King, defend your home. I’ve come to play in your labyrinth again.

The carved blocks of the ziggurat glowed in the daylight. Snow melted off the terraces and poured down its sides in great torrents as chill morning turned to balmy summer’s day. I could only imagine what the defenders clustering at the air docks must see—a mare wreathed in fire, mount and passenger both shining even against the ineffable glory of the sun at their backs. Small wonder they scattered as Celestia snapped her wings and sent a hot wind gusting across their backs.

A few brave souls lifted bows and loosed, only to see their arrows ignite and burn to ash within instants of touching Celestia’s radiant corona. I laughed, and with a slash of an arm I sent a blazing tongue of flame down. It roared with a furnace’s heat and blackened the ancient stone while the Cup goblins broke and ran, some even going so far to dive off the side to land with sickening crunches four or five meters down on the next level.

After what had happened to Sweetie Belle when we first came to this place, a few broken bones seemed an apt herald.

Celestia’s hooves cracked a great paver with a report like thunder as we landed, and, wherever her hooves touched, the stone vitrified, leaving a trail of glassy disks in our wake. Goblins cowered in corners or—even more foolishly—beneath tables and flinched when our bright rays touched them. Some even screamed as they anticipated their flesh blackening and crisping, only to collapse in relief when the heat remained mercifully bearable. They weren’t the ones I was here for, after all.

I exulted in their fear, sitting tall on Celestia’s back. I had crawled and scurried to avoid their notice once before, those wretched creatures, and now they quaked at my passage. Would they have been so merciful in my place? I think not.

There would be no wheedling or pleading with anyone to get my way this time. Now I was the one who would call the shots.

Even now, The air within the entry hall was filled with the rich flavor of their feast. It wasn’t so great a spread as the one that had taken Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, and no goblins were sprawled along the benches and floors as before, but, when I laid my eyes upon the tables and trenches, a fury ignited in me nonetheless. I turned Celestia’s head, and at once a long table erupted in flaming wooden chunks with a sullen detonation. We dismantled the dining room piece-by-piece as goblins fled in all directions, flinging their weapons to the ground and even shedding their armor to run all the faster. I even burned the designs on the walls, scouring the painted plaster right down to the rock walls.

It was only here, at the end of the dining hall, that we found our first real opposition. A host had been drawn up along the stairs and galleries of the Cup King’s throne room. Pegasi and other winged goblins waited tensely in the high vaulted ceilings, and over all of them flowed a strange, misty brilliance. It gushed forth from a single, radiant point—an uplifted cup held in the gauntleted hand of a stony-faced woman in golden armor. It seemed a lifetime ago that I’d last laid eyes upon her, but I recognized her well enough. Her graceful body remained unbowed as she stood at the head of her troops, with her wings tucked at her back and a spear in her other hand.

“You go no further,” she said in Wandtongue. “In the name of King Xerxes, I demand you cease your assault and end your unjust trespass.” Whatever she was doing with her Cup, it seemed to be buoying the other goblins; not a flicker of fear crossed their features. They edged forward into defensive formations with interlocking shields upraised.

“Unjust?” I asked, raising my voice over the crackle of Celestia’s flames. “I was here before, you know. Yesterday, probably; I don’t think I’ve lost that much time.”

The woman did not answer, her smooth, tan face unreadable.

“I’ve come to collect some things that I left here. Three foals, a teenage mare, and two bluejays.” I turned Celestia to fix my gaze on her directly. “You, whoever you are—I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re doing your job and I don’t feel like hurting you for that. Give them to me, and maybe I will leave here without causing any more damage.”

“I do not know what you are seeking, but it makes no difference, intruder,” the woman responded, “and, even if I did, it would make no difference. I am bid to keep my master’s peace and his property.” She lifted her chin and the point of her spear. “No matter your power, we are the Court of the Cup, and we do not submit to terror.”

If I’d had hackles they would be raised. “No, but you sure like using it, don’t you?” I asked, bristling. “Your temple is sick, do you know that? Tricks and traps that screw with your head, messed up rituals, trapped food—where the hell do you get off calling me unjust? Where’s the justice in trapping someone for life because they were hungry and desperate?”

Celestia stamped an angry hoof and burned a gouge in the ornate tiles.

“All know that the sanctums of the Cup Palace are inviolate. We have the right to defend our own in whatever manner we see fit,” the woman said as she settled into a combat stance, and her people moved forward another pace. “If you were among those Wand goblins invading our home that day, then you need concern yourself with your companions no longer. They have paid the price for their temerity. You may even see some of them among us now. As to your demands, I will hear no more of them—begone, or fight.”

I narrowed my gaze at the obstinate woman, and Celestia’s flames leapt as her intensity matched mine. In a way, I had to admire the Cup bearer, even if she was just a cog in a machine. Perhaps it was just her magic, but I’d imagine that even naked and unarmed she’d still look as stubborn and entrenched. If she wanted to bar my way this eagerly, though, so be it.

On that hair-thin balance between intent and violence, however, another voice broke in. “Ladies, please,” a boy’s voice called, “we would not be amiss in hearing her out, would we? Perhaps her arrival was somewhat… unorthodox, yes, but wisdom demands we seek a peaceful alternative where it presents itself.”

Meaning he thinks I’m dangerous enough that he’d rather appease me than spend the blood and coin getting rid of me would take, I surmised.

“Knight Priyana, part your soldiers,” the boy continued in his high, aristocratic voice, “I would address our guest myself.”

Priyana’s face contorted in anger and flashed back again so quickly I was certain I had imagined it at first. Obediently, she straightened and flicked a wing to gesture behind her. The phalanxes parted and Celestia walked between them, her light reflecting off their masked helms. Knight Priyana accompanied us, the golden pomegranate on the butt of her spear tapping the tiles in our passage.

There were no signs of the bacchanalia that had raged through the Cup King’s throne room the last time I’d been here. Everygob present now was martially inclined, touched by the radiant stream emanating from Priyana’s Arcana. They were much more orderly than the Wand troops I’d seen—far better dressed, too, with their serviceable silk garments and woven coats. In the great throne sat the young man I’d seen before, with his metallic hair shining beneath a crown of beaten silver. He looked my age, but could have been Celestia’s for all I knew, his recent ascension to the throne notwithstanding. The chalice was the same, too, a simple wooden cup that stood in stark contrast to Priyana’s cup of hammered gold. Also unlike hers, his held red wine, though it did not deplete noticeably as he sipped.

I resisted the urge to crack an Indiana Jones joke—somehow, I suspected the humor would be lost on this bunch.

“Oh, you haven’t any fear, my dear,” King Xerxes said. “They may look grim, but, as you know, we of the Cup understand that it is important to appreciate life. Humor is but one of many facets of earthly pleasure.”

In another time, another life, that might have rattled me, as it was intended. Make me think that all my thoughts were open to him and put me at a disadvantage in our negotiations. Today, it mostly gave me an opportunity to reflect on how much I’d changed.

“Cut the crap, Xerxes,” I told him. “I’ve told you what I want. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Wire—you can skip the birds if you don’t have them. I think I saw them get away, anyhow.”

He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. Two could play at this game; he had his magic cup, and I had my ichorous eyesight. I cleared out distractions from my mind and let Celestia worry about the soldiers as I focused my senses. The acrid smell of scorched meat mingled with the sweat and stink of fear, and few in the hall reeked of it as much as this boy king. The wine had a heavy, powerful odor to it, and I felt a pressure that put me in mind of the Bridle when I focused my attention on his Cup. It was a divine thing, truly, and the wine gave him more courage than he had.

Curiously, I noted in passing that the cup in Priyana’s hand felt more like an echo of the one in the King’s, as the moon mirrors sunlight. Or, at least, it did on my earth.

“Ah, yes, your darling companions,” he said. “Word reached me of the brave young children who did so deftly slip through the Palace’s labyrinth. I do not know how you came by your human shape or the magnificent mount you ride upon, but clearly it was not beyond the skill of the clever little filly who led them. Surely, you must be more than you seem. A hero of old, come to test our trials.” He turned his head to look down at his Knight. His words were all sweetness, but there was a bite there as well. “Rejoice, Priyana. The stain on your honor is cleansed. You could not be expected to have prevented this one’s escape.”

Priyana steamed beneath the collar of her golden armor, and the muscles in her neck tensed. The King’s senses were not so sharp as mine, so I doubt he noticed her anger as he turned back to me. Not that I cared about their petty power dynamic; still, it was fun seeing that she found him as insufferable as I did.

“Yup. Hand them over.” I didn’t care to make a flowery speech, and the scent of his wine was getting thicker. The sooner I left, the better.

He tapped the shepherd’s crook against his arm. “My lady, I stand in honor of your obvious power and prestige. Gladly would I grant any request you have, for what fool would I be to deny the Water Bearer in full possession of the Golden Bridle?” His smile never left. “Please, do us the honor of your presence in the halls and regale us with your tale. All the world has awaited your coming, even if it knows it not. What is your name, Water Bearer, and how did you come to our Palace?”

So he didn’t know I wasn’t Daphne’s replacement. That fact I buried deep, and focused on my impatience and irritation with him instead. It wasn’t difficult, as I had it in abundance. “It pleases me to give you neither my name nor my presence for longer than it will take to get what I came for and leave. Am I going to have to start making examples?”

“You’ve provided ample examples of your strength already, Water Bearer,” the King answered. He lifted his wine for another sip, and the stench of it was such that I was shocked he wasn’t reeling. “Of course I will restore your friends to you. They were taken during your escape yes?” He paused, then nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, they were the ones who triggered the feast, I see. I can see that I should have inventoried the new goblins we gained that day. It can be such a bother, but there are occasions like these where it proves necessary.”

Does he just plan on droning on all day? I wondered as I reached up to rub at my eyes. It would be good to get a nap or even a full night’s sleep once I’d rescued the others. It would be nice to see their faces again. They’d be frightened, I thought, and maybe even angry at what I’d done to the Princess. The Crusaders would be at least. I’d let Celestia go and apologize to them for abandoning them and finally, finally, I would have done something worthwhile. We could sleep in a big pile like before and put this whole nightmare behind us. The adventure through the goblin city, we’d tell others, and keep the darker parts to ourselves.

We’d tell them all about how we got through the Palace, too. It’s like escaping from a whirlpool or a black hole. Like Wire said, About lurin’ you in so you can’t ever get out again.

Now, that was an odd thought to have. The scent of wine was so heavy it could have been cut with a knife, and one might have thought that I had been the one drinking it instead of the Cup King. Really, he was the one who had to worry here, after all. He was so frightened he told his guards to stand aside so I could have my way.

So my present feelings of anxiety and distraction were probably nothing. He hadn’t spoken in a while, just kept on sipping and drinking even more deeply. It’s not like I’d just been lured into another trap or something.

Crap.

My fury, my rage at having been tricked, burned through the haze that clouded my mind. With a shout and a burst of light, I reached out, seized the hands holding me, and flung them clean across the room to smash against their fellows in a clatter of armor. Somehow, I’d gone from Celestia’s back to kneeling before the throne, which I now saw was coated in a dark red mist that oozed down its steps as it poured tenebrously from the Cup King’s Arcana. The mist boiled away as my own radiance leapt out to meet it, and I stood defiantly.

Behind me, Celestia was well out-of-reach, with Priyana and her troops holding spears against her. She seemed as confused as I had been—her power far exceeded mine, but mine was the one controlling hers through the Bridle when the Cup’s magic had overcome me, and I wasn’t holding the reins just now.

“It would have been better to let the wine do its work, Water Bearer.” The Cup King tsked softly. “Its dreams are sweet, and you would have eased into your servitude ever so gently. Now, I fear, I must ask my soldiers to pummel you into submission.”

Still seething, I glared at the soldiers moving into position around me. “If you think I’m going down easily, you’re mistaken.” Now was a terrible time to test the powers and reach of the Bridle, something I should have done earlier, and it was hard to fake confidence. “You can still salvage this, Xerxes. Give me what I want and tell your people to stand aside, and I won’t have Celestia tear this place apart. One word from me and everyone here fries.”

Xerxes’ smile did reach his eyes, then, but it was a cruel, cold smile. Too hard to fake, it would seem. “No, Water Bearer. I don’t believe so. I believe you’re going to end up one of my loyal creatures, will ye or nil ye. Just like those idiot little friends of yours.” The wine-dark mist poured forth with greater intensity, a wave threatening to press in against my light. “Just like you’ve always known. What a burden they were to you, weren’t they? You were well rid of them; discarded like all the rest. Your life is one long series of using and abandoning people, and now it’s coming to a close.”

Anger could only push me so far forward through my own failings. Xerxes had me where he wanted me, using his powers to read my guilt and use it against me just as he had my arrogance. The weight of it pressed in on all sides, bowing my shoulders. I saw their faces as they changed and twisted, and Wire’s as she turned away from me in the end.

There was just one problem with his plan this time.

“Hey. Xerxes,” I croaked.

“Yes?” he asked airily.

“You’ve never really loved anyone, have you?”

“Untrue,” he said, “but why do you—?”

His voice cut off in a high screech as I suddenly bounded the distance from the foot of the steps to almost smash into the throne where he sat. Fear, real, uncut fear filled his eyes as he looked into mine. I could see myself reflected back in them, with eyes like pools of blazing green fire.

He tried to strike at me reflexively with his crook, but I seized his wrist and squeezed until the bones crunched sickeningly and it dropped weakly from his limp hand. “Because,” I said, my voice low, trembling with the force of my wrath, “if you had ever betrayed someone you loved, the only thing you’d feel more strongly than guilt… is hate.”

The world moved in slow motion. Priyana shouted orders to her soldiers. Xerxes babbled before me, offering me riches, power, anything I asked. I didn’t need to ask to know the truth now, though. He didn’t have what I’d come for.

Even if he had, the little monster had run out my patience. He’d done terrible things to countless others and would have done so to me if I’d given him the chance. Through his eyes I saw the soul of Cup King Xerxes. There was only a shriveled little man in a boy’s shape, a pretty shell for a thing of base debauchery. I remembered the saturnalian rituals he’d presided over when I’d snuck through the throne room and knew the truth of what Wire had been afraid to tell me about this place. What it did to the men and women it caught.

Here, in the Cup Palace, my innocence died a second death. The first time had killed my childlike surety that every ending would be happy, and that plucky courage would see the day. The second time killed my faith in the basic redeeming nature of all life.

I could accept his stammered offers and leave here with Celestia, unmolested, but only for a time. I saw that, too. I had twice humiliated this King in front of his subjects, and there is no King who can stand long without rising to face such challenges. Even then his eyes flicked, rat-like to either side as he searched for some plan to dispense with me. The Cup goblins gathered to rush the throne and me on it.

There was no other choice now. He had tried to enslave me, just as he had my friends, and I couldn’t let my story end here. I couldn’t let this wretch stop me.

It had to be done.

There were tall wrought iron lamp stands throughout the throne room, including alongside the great chair itself. They were round and black, with brightly burning bowls of oil on top. One snapped in two when I took hold, and the cut end glinted sharply with a cruel point.

There in the Cup Palace, my innocence died a third death.

They broke and ran when the power of the Cup failed them. When Priyana’s light fled them, so too did they flee. Where Priyana herself had gone I had no idea, but as I reached the bottom of the stairs, only Celestia and I remained in a hall of discarded shields and weapons, lit only by the flickering lamps and Celestia herself as the clouds hung back over the sky.

That plain wooden goblet, a single carved piece of some reddish wood I didn’t know how to identify, sat comfortably in my hand, its neck nestled betwixt my fingers. It resonated faintly on a level beyond the merely physical, humming in tune with the fire in my soul. The Cup seemed to welcome my attention, swirling it around and around until it vanished within its depths, fathomless. I began to walk towards Celestia, and the Cup swallowed my desire to be near her. With a disorienting twist, I suddenly found myself at her side, crossing the intervening distance in a single footstep.

“Granting wishes indeed,” I muttered, remembering Wire’s comments. “Why didn’t Xerxes just wish himself to freedom, then?” I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, a twitch at an ear, and lifted my voice. “Well, Morg? Any ideas?”

“Because, Cup-Winner, in your world there is no gift which comes without a price,” the sibilant whisper returned as the Morgwyn slid out of the shadows of the throne. “The once King did not believe you were capable of that which you did, not truly. He still saw his victory over you, consumed in the last by his own illusions.” The creature laughed. “Ironic, truly. The ancient ones created the Cup in part to more deeply understand themselves, to meditate and cleanse their minds of illusion and desire. Yet, it is a font of those self-same desires and illusions.”

I glanced into the depths of the Cup and then back at the Morgwyn with narrowed eyes. “He could also read my mind. I wonder what I would find if I tried using it to read yours?”

“This one would say that you would find what the Morgwyn has desired all along. A return to that which was.”

“Why did Priyana’s Cup lose its power?” I asked instead. “Transitions have to have happened before. There was a King before Xerxes.”

“The Arcana were made, once, in an age long past. They can be unmade, and were meant to be, in the age that is meant to come and has come. One should think this obvious.” It tilted its head. “You have not broken them, yet, but you hold the master Cup, the original, and the winged woman’s bowed before its master.”

I spat. “That’s Daphne’s destiny, not mine.”

“Was this one unclear in its meaning before, Sun-Tamer? You have seized the Water Bearer’s destiny, clawed it right from her uncomprehending hands.” It pointed a paw at the Cup. “There lies the proof. The Cup and all of its power, the depthless might of elemental water, is yours to command. Therein lies the embodiment of desire, empathy, and transcendence, the immanence of desire into physical reality and the proof that your world is never so concrete as you believed.”

“That’s quite a lot to put on one bitty drinking cup,” I muttered, but did not dispute. If the child Amelia had gotten a hold of this device, there would have been no end of marvels that she could have conjured up. At the least, it would be an excellent tool for helping the others, if I could find them. Once my life had settled out, then I could try reclaiming a bit of that lost magic.

If I ever did.

At the moment, though, my only wish was to leave this place and all it represented. The very last thing I wanted was to meditate on my own desires and feelings, too, so I had little need for the Cup this instant. I tucked it into my belt, then lifted my arm in surprise. The sleeve of my tunic came several inches short of my wrist, which should have been impossible with Maille’s tailoring. Looking down at my leggings, I found the same.

I couldn’t worry about things like that then, though. My encounter with Xerxes had proven how incredibly dangerous the goblins still were to me. He had very nearly taken me with all my power, and I had made far more enemies than I’d destroyed.

Damn the Morgwyn, it was right. I had evaded its designs for as long as I could, only to find myself drawn inexorably towards them. The only way to dig my way out of this was to go deeper and hope I found light on the other end.

“Where can I find the other Arcana?” I asked, turning to face the monster.

It lifted its head, a shadow cast starkly against Celestia’s too-bright flame. “The true Ring lies in a world unseen by human eyes in generations, where once the heroes of old began their trek into the nether realms. Look above the land of frost and mist to a place of stone and darkness. The true Sword works its ways in a land familiar to you, one torn by bloodshed and violence. With the Ring, you could find it wherever it is hidden, and the Wand also, which you must gain from the hand of Nessus alone.”

“And? When I have them all?” I asked bitterly. “What terrible thing will happen then?”

“If by terrible you mean great beyond the ken of mortals, Sun-Tamer, then yes, something quite terrible will come to pass. A true wonder.”

“I suppose I’ll have to see for myself, then.” Turning, I slid up onto Celestia’s back and turned her back towards the rear entrance. Her flames had dimmed considerably since our entrance, and my low irritation was not enough to sustain them, so, as we started towards the airship docks, they extinguished and returned to her common, ethereal hair, even though her armor remained transfigured and her aspect fanged and dangerous. The Morgwyn had already gone by the time I mounted, though its words lingered with me as we took flight.

Soon we lofted high out over the ancient city. We passed straight between the statues of the founders of Mag Mell and the Arcana both, skimming over the polished granite shoulder of the woman whose face held such surpassing wisdom. I knew my face would never look like that. Whatever made her so confident about the world was entirely mysterious to me.

Perhaps it had been elusive for her, too. After all, her city was now the den of a band of warped and twisted mortals who squabbled for their daily bread and knew not what lofty ideals she had once espoused. Maybe every adult was just faking competence and hoping no one would notice.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I buried my face in Celestia’s mane against the chill high air and sank my mind into hers to set course Trunkward and Heavenward, to seek the next leg of my journey and the destiny I’d stolen from my faithless sister. Icy clouds parted to make way, and it was as though we’d passed into the frozen southern seas, to glide between icebergs and antarctic currents on our way to an uncharted, inhospitable continent.

Somewhere along the way, she closed her eyes. Her mind lingered on, sharing its space with the ancient mare who was pressed on by a force she could not deny. The only company she had left were her memories, and their roots stretched back far and away, half-forgotten beneath the piled soil of ages.

* * *

It was the first true voyage I could remember. There had been one other, when I was very young, but I could not now recall it, the one that took me from my home in the columned temple by the pomegranate trees to the terrible land of hardship and uncertainty. It pained me to acknowledge that I was rubbish on a deck, too scrawny to be any use at the oars, too unsteady to climb the rigging, and ultimately too green to do much more than linger near the rails and pray for calmer water. A greying minotaur kept the beat for the oarponies as we rowed on.

Luna flew with the seagulls against the wind, as bold as she pleased, though whenever one of the sailors tried to speak to her she flew back to me and hid behind my tail, as she did now. Her mane had been cut short with the aid of a young mare who had taken pity on the two of us. As tangled, filthy, and torn as it was, we had to resort to simply sawing off the great mass of it with her knife, leaving it to merely chin-length. Our communication was limited, as I only spoke a smattering of Canaanite, but I thanked her all the same. The other sailors were polite, but I kept my distance anyway. The stallions made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t quite put my hoof on.

The captain had thanked us for nursing his sailor back to health, and with the help of the aging Cretan minotaur translating I gathered that they had come from Carthage on this very vessel, only to end up displaced like everypony else when the horsemen came after. It was a thought set to give anypony chills, particularly me—men riding ponies with no wills of their own.

The news they gave us was even worse. Ponies and other creatures divided against one another, tribe against tribe, ponies against griffins, griffins against minotaurs, sphinxes and merponies against everypony else. When our leaders had been killed, there was no one to unite so many creatures from separate lineages and all speaking so many different languages from around the world. I remembered enough to recall how hopeful we had all been, and to hear it all far apart so thoroughly made me wonder just how pointless our sacrifices had been.

Small wonder I didn’t bother telling them who I really was. Luna wouldn’t betray it—for all she knew, we had been abandoned in the woods, and I aimed to keep it that way. To tell them would just give them false hope. I wasn’t an alicorn, and I certainly wasn’t a leader.

Our ship traveled seemingly without aim while the sun and moon spun in their chaotic orbits. We stopped along shorelines to gather water and food, and, sometimes, bury our dead. The waterways shifted in unexpected fashion; sometimes we’d be on a wide sea with no land in sight. Other times the land would close in around us, and we’d be lucky to ply our way through narrow rivers. Sometimes we’d have to get out and port the ship over rocks, cutting great rollers from the surrounding trees; I enjoyed those times, paradoxically, because then at least I could help in hauling and cutting and running water and food to the others. The worst were the times when merponies would raid, and then the others would fight while I held Luna close and cowered belowdecks, praying no one would get too badly hurt.

We almost never saw other types of ponies until one day. We came across a village, only to find it frozen over completely, in spite of the balmy tropical land around it. The ponies there were locked in place, icy statues frozen in shivering agony, and an ethereal neighing laughter echoed from the ruins. Luna cried herself to sleep that night, and I went over to where the captain and his wife were sharing a meal with the minotaur.

“What will you do now, Captain?” I asked the captain that evening, looking at him while the minotaur translated; my Canaanite was a lot better by then, but I still had some trouble with phrases and vocabulary. “You have a crew of ponies from every tribe, and more besides. If ponies are so divided they’d attack and hurt your crew… if the world itself is out to get us, what can you do? What can I do?”

The captain, a dignified unicorn, shared a glance with his wife, a heavy pegasus in armor, and took her hoof. “As much as we can,” he answered, the minotaur’s rumbling Greek coming a moment after. “We haven’t forgotten the old way. The new world, it is in chaos still, but, if we keep faith, we still have strength to go on. Earth ponies can mend the broken land, pegasi can master the raging skies, and unicorns can set the world to right. Minotaurs can build, griffins ward the realm, and more.”

“King Kreios and Queen Theia live on in our hearts, and all the other great ones,” his wife said. “I believe they watch over us still, from the stars. If you don’t lose faith, perhaps they can show you a way to help in what little way you can. I’d like to think that we can do them proud.” She gave me a warm smile. “We need young ponies like you and your sister to carry on and build a new society. I… if I could have children, I should have liked a daughter who was as determined and resourceful as you. Surviving as you did was no mean task, especially with a little one to care for, and I’m sure you did your parents proud.”

“Perhaps,” Captain Holder said slowly, “you and your sister could be ours. There is certainly room at our table, and we could be good to you.”

I couldn’t answer them. My throat was too tight. My eyes swam with unshed tears.

I couldn’t sleep that night, either; I spent the rest of it staring at the sky, searching the stars for familiar shapes. I only gave up when the sun rose early, as it often did, and found a fitful, dreamless slumber thereafter, devoid of hope. I would never do my parents proud, and I knew they wouldn’t be watching.

It’s funny, really; for all that I failed to take the captain and his wife’s words to heart, I still earned my wings a mere three days later.

* * *

This time, when I came back, I really didn’t want to. I wanted to know how I—or, rather, Celestia—had earned her wings, how she’d found some scrap of hope in that pit of despair and whether or not she’d found a new family, but, no matter how I fought and struggled to return to sleep and Celestia’s dreams, wakefulness pulled me back with inexorable chains.

I knew intellectually that only hours had passed, if that, but remembering Celestia’s life wasn’t like normal memories. I lived them. Once again, I stretched awkwardly, feeling like I should be on all fours. My hands wouldn’t work until I flexed my fingers repeatedly, and when I saw a lock of blond hair I wondered who it belonged to until I recalled that my hair was blond, not pink.

The clouds had parted, revealing a strange, sunless realm. Huge mountains of clouds surrounded a bleak, barren landscape of basalt that rose in staggeringly huge squared-off cliffs, with great steps of hexagonal columns that looked almost carven. Actual carvings of enormous faces, male or female or neither, loomed from the canyons down at us as we passed.

My mind reeled as I tried to process the meaning of it all. I’d come from Midgard to Mag Mell and risen above one world to find another. Maybe I didn’t have encyclopedic knowledge like my sister or Naomi’s sprawling education, but I knew there was something wrong with how we humans saw the universe if places like these could exist. The Morgwyn had intimated as much.

Speaking of, I probably ought to have asked the damned cat-monster for better directions. This world, whatever it was, did not make navigation easy.

Food was easy to find, at least. All I had to do was turn over the Cup and shake out some fruit or crackers or even once a half-cooked hot dog I had to discard into the abyss.

Just as I was preparing to turn back, however, pinpricks of red light caught my eye. Swooping closer, I found a canyon where countless red lanterns had been strung across the chasm, above and below. It was like flying through a sea of crimson stars. There were walkways cut into the stone, and I saw goblins watch as we passed. They stood out in their storefronts and crowded along rails to watch our passage. Colorful kites flew in the air, eastern dragons and butterflies and paper moons dancing alongside me. At the end, I found a great staircase with its base near the cloudy void below, connecting each level as it rose to a solid monastery or palace carved into the cliffs itself.

The lack of opposition bothered me a little. Perhaps the Ring folk had not heard about what happened to the Cup King just yet. As I focused my attention on the onlookers though, I saw a mixture of apprehension among the crowded faces. None of them spoke, though, nor raised weapons, even though some carried them. Feeling a little apprehensive myself, I alighted Celestia on the stairway and, on a strange impulse, slid off her back and led her by the reins the rest of the way. From within the structure and all around the many levels of the Ring city, voices rose. First a few, then many. Perhaps even all.

It was one sound, in ten thousand voices: om. It blended into a continuous hum, a strange rising and falling susurration that reverberated through my bones.

I stopped briefly to stretch, feeling my clothing and chain mail to be uncomfortably tight. As I did, I heard a series of metallic pops, and then the whole of it suddenly loosened to better fit my frame and height. With some surprise, I bent down and picked up torn rings of inferior metal.

Somehow, Maille had ingeniously rigged my armor and clothing to suit me as I grew. I’m not sure which was more alarming—that she had anticipated such a need or that it had come so quickly. A mirror would have been nice just then.

Each step of the stairway was broad near the base, enough that I would have had no trouble riding her up the stairs for a time, but they grew steeper and more perilous the higher we climbed. Celestia’s feet gripped the stones better than any goat’s, while I kept my balance through a combination of ichorous concentration and Maille’s excellent boots.

A great lintel of unsmoothed stone led to the broad roof of the monastery. The waves of sound were so faint there that they might have only been felt. From the edge of the platform spread a seemingly endless swell of grey cloud, a sea that spread to what could have been a horizon, or, perhaps, a vanishing line so far distant even my eyes could not pick it out. A wizened, nut-brown man sat at the edge, with heavy roughspun clothing about him and a ring of beaten copper held in both hands.

I paused long enough to upturn the Cup and dump a load of alfalfa for Celestia to munch on before approaching the Ring King.

“Okay,” I demanded, with my guts tied in knots after the unnerving reception, “what’s the deal here? I’ve come for the Ring, you have to know that, since you obviously knew I was coming. Is this some ridiculously over elaborate way to try and stop me? If so, forget about it. I’m taking what’s mine.”

The man—goblin, whatever, could have been either—opened his eyes and relaxed faintly. He regarded me over the copper circle in his hands in silent contemplation for several beats before shaking his head slowly. “No,” he said, his Wandtongue accent low and strong. “We knew you—or another—would come, and that you would want the Ring, but we have prepared nothing to prevent you. They call below for the new age you have unwittingly heralded more than for you yourself.”

“That’s my sister’s deal, not mine,” I growled.

“Perhaps, but you are the one standing here before me.”

That was so like the Morgwyn’s phrasing, and so painfully true, that I had to laugh. It made me sound absurd in this solemn occasion, but so be it. It wasn’t a very happy laugh, honestly, but it was some form of humor all right. “So, what?” I asked. “Are you just going to give me the Ring, then? Even after what I’ve done, after you’ve seen what kind of person I am?”

“Foreknowledge is not wisdom, or else we would not be having this conversation,” the man said, “and you would do well to remember that when you take it. Some would say that simply giving you the Ring is foolish, yes. Some might even say that I am gambling the fortune of the world.” He held his hand out, and the Ring shrank into, well, a small ring, fit for one of my fingers. “Perhaps I could have hidden from you, delayed this meeting for a time, though the one beside you would have sniffed us out eventually. I should rather gamble on a future that could be.”

“What does that mean? If you’ve already seen the future, what’s the point?”

“It means that you have not yet decided what you will be. The future spreads before us, and any further pruning we of the Ring attempt will only stunt its growth prematurely. I surrender myself, and my power, to fate. Tomorrow is a new day, and I will wait to see its sunrise, or not.”

He turned his hand, and the Ring fell from his palm to thud against the basalt as if it weighed ten times more than it should. When I bent to pick it up, though, it was as light as any copper ring might be. The smooth metal slid easily around a ring finger, as snugly as if it had been fitted for my hand alone.

“What is it?” I said quietly. “The… beast.” I avoided the Morgwyn’s name, unwilling to draw it just now. “Not the Ring.”

“A thing that remembers chaos, true primordial chaos, when little had meaning and all shape and form were subject to whim. Where time runs backwards and sideways as often as forwards. It would return to that state, if it could.”

“Where mistakes can be undone?” I asked.

“Perhaps.”

I stroked the Ring’s outer surface, saying nothing. It resonated with my soul the same way the Cup had. Where the Cup was a pool without end, the Ring turned in on itself and defined itself. It had no beginning and no end, no middle, no break or flaw. The uncaused cause and the inviolate purpose. Above all it was a cycle with no beginning, the universe in microcosm.

“All one piece,” I murmured. “No wonder you can see the future. If there’s multiple futures, though, does that mean there’s multiple pasts?”

“Who said there were multiple futures?” The old man quirked an eyebrow. “Or only one past for that matter, yes. If you follow a line that bends to the horizon can you always be certain that when you return to your starting position that you have, indeed, come to the same place? Even if you leave a token there, how certain are you that it was the very same one, even if it appears in all respects identical? Could the world have been created moments ago with all appearance of having always existed, or could new things be created ex nihilo in the midst of an eternal universe? Answer these questions, Ring-bearer, and perhaps I will answer yours in a satisfactory manner.”

“Right. Forget I asked.” Turning, I slid the Ring off my finger and silently bid it expand in my hands until I could have fit a fist through it. I sensed there were many purposes I could put it towards—protection chief among them, which would be extremely handy in a very short while—but the main one I was interested in was knowledge. “Show me the Sword,” I said.

I probably didn’t need to talk to it, but my sense of drama demanded it.

Light wavered and wove itself into a hazy image. Buildings made out of plaster and mud brick in a dry, dusty town. I understood at once why the Morgwyn had named it familiar—TV aerials indisputably placed it on earth, and I had seen places like that often enough on television to have a pretty good idea where it lay. The Ring showed me a path, a Way in fact, winding back through the skies of Mag Mell and bypassing Equestria entirely.

“What is this place called?” I asked as I turned my attention away from the ring. “Which of the Nine Worlds is this?”

“The ancient Norse named it Svartalfheim, and populated it with colorful creatures drawn largely from their imagination and the dimly remembered past. The name suffices for lack of a better one, but the truth of it is more complicated by far. There are more tombs here than living people, by far. One may call it a world of graves, for those who could not make it further.”

I ran a hand through my tangled blond hair, smoothing it against the breeze. “The people they called the Alfar, the elves, from whom Maille and the other goblins of Mag Mell learned their craft… they were the ancient people, weren’t they? The first men who had the power of the gods in them, like I do. Legends said the elves went across the sea.” I glanced past him to the clouds ghosting silently along.

“They did at that,” he agreed. “And they launched from this very pinnacle. Seeking what, I do not know. I could not tell you what the other worlds are truly like beyond the faint legends. Even those of us who lived in the Second Age do not have much true knowledge regarding the gods, least of all how and why they forged the world the way it is.”

“Perhaps I’ll find out.”

The old monk had no response for me, and the silence stretched on awkwardly. Lacking any further topics to broach and having not exactly forged a connection with this strange old wizard, I turned on my heels and walked back to Celestia. As I mounted, I began contemplating what else I might see in the Ring, if I could suss out what was hidden from what was not. I immediately rejected any glimpse at my sister or her ilk. The Crusaders and Wire came to mind, but I put it aside after a brief, tantalizing moment spent contemplating it.

Soon, I would be ready to face them. I just needed a few more tools.

Together, Celestia and I dove through the canyon, back towards Mag Mell and Midgard and the next part of our hunt. We dove back through the clouds that divided the realm of Svartalfheim from the branch, and I urged Celestia on faster. The Ring flew ahead like some errant sparrow to reveal the path in its center.

Time passed. I couldn’t be sure how much, with an unchanging field of grey and white and black swallowing up the world, but I knew it was a fair amount. When we finally broke through the clouds, it was already dark in Mag Mell with the leaden sky turning purple in the east, even though it had been nowhere near noon when we’d left the Cup Palace. That troubled me some—it meant that I’d spent a great deal of time in Svartalfar, more than I’d intended, and by now word would have gotten around.

The Ring dipped low almost as soon as we appeared in the sky, and we hewed away from the city towards a dry, dusty plain I had not seen from the road. Piles of wind-smooth rock pierced the dusty earth. Whole hillsides were in bloom with flowers that shone red and gold, doubtless from the moisture that rolled in by day, but I had no eye for their beauty just then. My gaze was fixed ahead, following the unseen trail, and, when the Ring turned straight down suddenly, I didn’t even hesitate as I gripped my knees about Celestia’s flanks and dove directly towards the earth. A hole half-hidden by a dune-covered rock face swallowed us up, and we raced with breakneck speed. Once again I was grateful for the Bridle’s deadening of will, for if Celestia had balked for even an instant we would have dashed ourselves against the coarse stone. Somehow, impossibly, we were flying up, against the force of gravity, and then the passage narrowed intensely. When it seemed as if we might crash, I sent a blast forth from Celestia’s horn and she tightened her wings against her body. Molten debris blew up and away as we spun into a dusk sky filled with clear stars.

Celestia spread her wings and drifted to alight on a rock atop a low mountain, surrounded by a crinkled desert landscape turned white by the light of the moon. There were smaller mountains backlit by city lights rising to the north and west, and, to the east, a dark sea with bright lights along its shore spread far to the south.

My attempts to establish the bearing towards the Sword were interrupted when Celestia began to dance skittishly. I touched her mind and found her agitated in a way that was hard to put a hoof on properly. Climbing down, I put my own hand against the dusty stones and closed my eyes.

Indeed, there was something distinctly unpleasant about this place where we’d come forth. It was as if blood had seeped into the stone, and more than blood. It was as if the blood had carried something fouler in it, like sewage floating in a stream, to dry and cake the surrounding rock until all it could remember was death and decay.

This was an ancient place. A place of ancient power—of the darkest sort, one foul enough to more than turn my stomach. If magic is returning to the world, does that mean this is going to come back, too?

I snatched my hand away and rubbed it against my tunic. “Well, let’s not have a picnic here,” I muttered, sliding onto Celestia’s back and booting her back into the air. There wasn’t even a hint of objection from the mare this time.

Call it a symptom of the odd mood I’d been in since arriving at Svartalfar, but the encounter with that place of death served to remind me of the anger that lurked in me again. It had never really died. Like a coiled serpent it had gone quiescent during my conversation with the Ring only to rear up at the scent of blood. It reminded me of Nessus and his ambition. More than that, it reminded me of the Cup King and his cloying red wine, pouring from a dark altar of lust and base desire.

“If the goblins’ ancestors had intended them to be the wardens of Midgard and protect us from evil, they must be rolling in their graves right now. Or maybe they’re weeping across the sea of clouds, still living their immortal lives.” I ground my teeth. “Jerks. If they’d stuck around instead of rolling out to some paradise way off, we’d all be better off.”

Celestia had no comment. Of course, her ancestors had rowed off a portion of the planet to escape persecution of the most oppressive sort imaginable, so I couldn’t imagine she’d empathize very strongly.

The Ring hummed gently to catch my attention, and I gazed across the desert at a distant patch of light. A populated place.

Well. So be it.

Once again, I stoked the flames of my wrath and joined them with Celestia. The reins took light with cold fire and so, too, did the Bridle. Deep into her skin it soaked, until she began to radiate a dreadful corona. She snorted as I dug through her memories and unearthed all of her ages of pain and fear and anger she’d kept locked up, filed away where civilized people hid them so they could remain civil.

Nightmares could be bright and shiny. Nightmares could be made of fire and light.

When her mane and eyes ignited into an awesome conflagration, her power was at its zenith, and I dipped into the raging inferno and shaped a spell. Even with her increased power, I knew there was naught I could do to the sun here—it was too large, the Earth too set in its course. That was a shame, but Celestia had far more tricks than that.

With a sun-bright flash of light, we teleported miles in an instant, right into the midst of battle.

* * *

So it turned out that I was right: Sword did know we were coming, and they threw a surprise party for us.

Moments after we appeared, a bright flash enveloped us, followed nigh-instantaneously by what should have been the kiss of death. Somehow, I was faster; I reached down with my mind and seized upon the most powerful protection we had. The Ring on my finger gleamed more brightly than Celestia did, and the pressure wave rolled over us like a soap bubble.

My ears rang as the debris from the rocket cleared, and I scanned the mud brick buildings below. If I’d had any hesitation about my course, they were gone by the time I directed Celestia to fire a flaming lance down at a rooftop down below. The beam scythed through the building and cleaved off an entire side, sending the rest up in dust and smoke. The figures attending the rocket platform dived for their lives, and I couldn’t have cared less if they’d retained them.

Even with that retaliation underway, we knifed through the sky. I didn’t know how the Sword goblins had guessed at our approach, but most likely they had more than one battery and alert people to wield them, while I dare not test the Ring’s limits. Deadly firework eruptions lit the night sky and confirmed my fears sure enough.

With a flash, we teleported again down to street level, and, while the goblins above searched in vain, I lifted Celestia’s head and lit her horn in a red-gold blaze. From a cloudless sky came burning sparks hissing down. First a few, then a rising torrent, showering the nearby structures with burning projectiles, some that merely caught to flame whatever would burn, others that smashed through plaster roofs and walls. Thunderous detonations signaled the finding and annihilation of ammunition dumps. Chunks of masonry joined the furious rain.

A different, sharper sort of thunder erupted around us and I threw up a golden shield in time to see it ripple and splinter. Bullets hissed and spat and sprang off to ricochet around the street where we hovered.

“You lot don’t scatter like the Cups did, do you?” I growled, my voice reverberating to the dark figures silhouetted by the flash of their firearms. “I can respect that. I’d give you the deaths you all clearly crave, but you’re just distractions.” I plucked the Ring from my finger and searched while Celestia bounced cars down the street with her hooves and telekinesis. Metal screeched and flames roared in a symphony of violence while I searched for the impression of the Sword.

The Ring vibrated in the air, then turned rapidly around.

“Ah, crap!” I shouted, too late, and expanded another bubble to teleport out.

Lightning and frozen wind, scorching heat and unbearable cold, buffeted me as a titanic force shattered Celestia’s barrier in a single swing. A sensation like two giant’s fists struck my back before the light swallowed and carried us into an empty building half a mile away.

I groaned and felt at my back, where two bruises were doubtless spreading from where the bullets had hit me. Once again, I owed my life to Maille’s cunning and skill—a bitter salve. Celestia herself had taken a few rounds, but most had clearly either ricocheted off her peytral or embedded themselves into her skin without penetrating. Indeed, I’d say that shooting her only served to piss us off.

Screwing around would get me killed, though, and nearly did. The side of the building—a theater, I think—caved in, and I barely had time enough to call upon Celestia’s magic and the Ring again. We flashed back into the sky, firing tongues of flame as we went, and the sky lit up around us. One-by-one I burned out the few remaining rocket emplacements, and then sent waves of fire rolling down the already smoke-choked streets.

I don’t expect I killed many, if any, Sword goblins with flashy, dramatic moves like that. I didn’t mean to, though; I meant to show the King how futile his minions would be, to draw him out again. Perhaps as important was my unwillingness to directly demolish the buildings until I saw that there were no children or other noncombatants. Outside our battle, there were some, yes, and all fleeing in earnest, but the lack of any movement that wasn’t furtive or directed in the streets below encouraged me. Soon, they, too, beat their retreats, in ones or twos or whole squads.

At that point I sent burning disks, hissing circles of fire and force, down to erupt inside the remaining buildings. That sent them running all right.

As the opposition died down, we alighted among the burning wreck of a city district. From the smoky flames a tall, slender figure emerged, its shadow wavering in the hot air. It waved its left hand, from which sprouted a long, thin blade, and a dust devil spun around, whipping the flames on higher and clearing a path for the King of Swords.

Clad in a flowing robe of white and ash grey, the King cut a blade-slim form himself, and the Sword gleamed. Like the Ring and unlike the Wand and Cup, it was metal, but common iron rather than copper. The surface was pitted, as if it had rusted and been cleaned, but I could feel the power radiating off it. The wielder surprised me far more, though.

“Hold,” I called. For some reason, Celestia in burning demigoddess-mode made me feel rather formal, “I have come to challenge the King for the Sword. The Ring showed me this place, and this time.”

“I am the King of Swords, child,” the woman said. I might have called her tone cold, but it, like her blade, held a paradox of righteous anger and icy fury. “And you are not the Water Bearer.” The robe caught fire, igniting from the radiant heat of the flames surrounding us alone, but she paid it no heed. I watched as a gust of sharp arctic air tore the flaming scraps from her, revealing a black combat jumpsuit under fully practical modern armor. Her black hair whipped in the wind, and I was even more surprised to see that she appeared fully human, with no trace of goblinization.

“If I were, I would expect you to just give me the Sword.” I tilted my head. “I guess I’m the King of Cups and Rings by that measure. They choose who they will, huh? Good for you on that one, as long as it lasted.”

“It chose me, yes, but you are merely an usurper.” Her eyes narrowed. “In more ways than one.”

In spite of myself, I glared at her and tightened my grip on Celestia’s reins. It was nothing I hadn’t said myself, but even still, it galled to hear it put that way from this woman. Sword is good at cutting things, apparently. “Give me the Sword,” I growled.

“No, child.” The Sword changed seamlessly into a long-hafted spear, and the King shifted seamlessly into a ready stance. “Let Ring gamble if it chooses. I will not permit the Nine Worlds to fall into chaos if I can avoid it, to live or die on the whims of a foolish, selfish girl.”

“What the hell do you think I am? The apocalypse? And what are you?” I snapped. “I know where we are! I can watch a news channel as well as anyone from my planet—what good have you done with your power here? Sword is conflict, and it looks like you’ve brought plenty of it here!”

“Conflict is the nature of the Sword, yes, but part of conflict is change, and change can be for the good as well as the bad.” The woman’s eyes did not waver from mine. “You know this, but you do not temper it. You would change all. Where I must respect to some degree the rights of men and women to make their own decisions—yes, even if it leads to great harm as it often does—you enslave those who you find convenient to your path.”

“She is not my slave!” I paused. “Permanently! I’ll let her go when it’s safe, when I’ve accomplished what I need to do!”

“And when will that be, child?” she asked pointedly. “When it is convenient for you, yes? First you start with trying to escape, then it escalates. You seize a greater mare and gain greater power, and then you discover that your new weapon gives you latitude to right a wrong. Not satisfied, you begin stretching outward, from Cup to Ring to Sword.” She tapped the butt of the spear against the tumbled brick. “When will it stop being convenient for you to hold one of the most powerful entities in Midgard? When you have the Arcana in hand? I think not.”

“Shut up!” I screamed at her. “That’s not how it is!”

“Perhaps, but even if you do find it within you to release her early, if the world is plunged into chaos, it will be too late for her or any of us.” She began to advance, with short, aggressive steps. “I will tell you this once: relinquish the Cup, the Ring, and the Bridle to the true Water Bearer and stand aside.”

That made me laugh. It was a genuine laugh with real mirth, not just a bitter guffaw. “Yeah, if you think the Water Bearer is going to be any better than me, you clearly haven’t met her,” I said. “She’s selfish, vain, arrogant, distant, and a liar on top of all that. If she cared about you or any part of this, she’d have done something to stop me by now.” I shook my head and Celestia stamped and pawed a hoof. “No, your Kingliness, I think I’m the only Water Bearer you’ve got.”

The King actually seemed taken aback by my words—not in any visible way, but I could feel her harden inside. There was a long silence; the roar of the flames seemed impossibly distant for all that they stood meters distant. At last, she spoke with a fatal sort of determination, “Then let it end here, and call it a mercy to us all.”

Take it from me, as I’ve learned a great deal about these things, there’s nothing so idiotic as a duel. In any one-on-one fight, unless the two combatants are roughly evenly matched the outcome is going to be a foregone conclusion. Wherever possible, tilt the battle in your favor by whatever dirty trick you can, because no one is going to console you for losing honorably.

Maybe it was the Arcana driving us on with the Sword demanding that we battle to decide the fate of the world, or maybe it was just the fire raging inside me pushing me into an insane decision, but at that moment I wanted nothing more than to smash the King’s face in and take what was mine. With fires burning all around us we came together in a stunning blast of power.

If I thought it was going to be easy, though, the King swiftly disabused me of that notion. She parried Celestia’s devastating beams with neat flicks of her wrists, the hard iron surface of her spear deflecting them to cleave through sky and pavement. Her answering stroke was a scything current of lightning that we only barely turned aside. The furious tendrils turned debris white hot and made a car scream and erupt with superheated metal. Unbelievably, that attack proved little more than a feint, as she took a step forward and vanished.

“Goblin magic!” I hissed, sending Celestia diving forward before the woman rematerialized in a swirl of dust with a flurry of dancing strikes. I had to spring up on Celesta’s back and run up her neck to avoid being skewered, and Celestia screamed as a blade pierced her side. It cut through her enchanted flesh as cleanly as if it were little more than paper. The King’s next stroke met a wall of crystalline force projected from the Ring in my outstretched hand, and the resulting blast of energy as the two Arcana met snapped a nearby telephone pole in two.

If one counted our sources of power, it was her one Arcana and whatever abilities she herself had versus my two and the ichor Celestia and I shared between us. Hers, though, was the Arcana of conflict and battle. More, I wasn’t using the Cup to any decent effect, so if I was to derive any advantage from it, I’d best decide.

Celestia bucked hard with both her rear hooves, and the woman took it on the hastily raised haft. Even so, the nightmare’s hooves blasted her through a flaming wall and out the other end. “Up!” I urged, and stood on Celestia’s back as she spread her wings and launched us into the air, to rain fire down from above.

Any hopes I’d had about putting distance between us was shattered when the King rose to meet us, riding a cloud of air propelled by gusts of gale force wind. The fires fanned with her and danced as she struck, again and again. The spear became a hammer to pound us back, and then she moved to intercept our flight so fast she turned into a human-shaped blur. My perceptions slowed as she raised an axe and swung it to meet us.

Wrapping the reins about a leg, I grabbed the Cup with my other hand and, desperately, swung it at her, grabbing at the first thing that leapt into my imagination.

The axe embedded itself to the shaft in a giant slab of beef, and the weight of Celestia plowing into the King knocked her off her perch long enough for the two of us to recover.

“Meat?” the woman said skeptically as she superheated the axe and blew it off, then caught herself on another cloud.

“I’ve only made food with the Cup so far, so sue me!”

“The real Water Bearer wouldn’t have such difficulties.”

I screamed wordlessly and sent a wave of sunfire down, then teleported back to the earth to send sizzling beams up, trying to catch her in a crossfire. No such luck—she flashed and dove between the beams, dancing ever closer with the flames gleaming off the perfect edge of her weapon.

Mixing up Celestia’s spells only served to slow her down. If I tried to grip her telekinetically, she sliced through the threads of magic and vanished in the resulting haze, only to reappear and harass us elsewhere. We blanketed the land in ice and she skated across to send bolts of lightning our way. I had Celestia pick an overturned truck up and swing it at her only for her to run up its side and dive straight down towards us.

This time, I wasn’t quite fast enough. First her sword laid open my cheek, then the hand holding the Ring, and then a leg through Maille’s armor. Only the Ring’s fullest power prevented me from losing anything, and its reverberating response pounded the city block to dust. Somehow, I managed to spring up on Celestia’s back and head butt the woman square in the forehead. She reeled back and I bit down on a scream of pain so we could teleport down the street.

It wasn’t enough. She was a hundred—no, a thousand times more experienced than me, and all the memories I’d lived with Celestia were before she’d gotten into her later battles. I had more power, but it wasn’t availing me very well.

Perhaps I could read her intentions with the Cup, try and anticipate her moves before she could execute them, but even then it would be a hairfine advantage I wasn’t sure I could exploit properly. If it took her a hundred strokes, she’d get in enough to bleed me and weaken me, and then she’d have me.

I couldn’t win this fight.

Once again, time slowed to a crawl as I tried to think of something, anything that could pull a victory out of thin air.

My eyes fell on Celestia once again, her nightmare visage obscured to me by the flaming mane that tossed and sparked in the inferno winds. I tightened my grip on the Cup. That’s right. She’s been in battles before. Over two thousand years of experience in using her power.

And yet I hesitated. The last time we’d shared only a fragment of her youthful memories, and even that had been overwhelming.

Pain blossomed in my side as a hot shard, propelled by another blast from the Sword, found me. I damned myself for allowing a distraction that might have cost me the fight and teleported again, this time to the far side of the ruined area. Then, ignoring my wounds and taking the Cup and the reins in hand, I touched one to the other and sank my mind through the funnel of the Cup’s rim, down, down into Celestia’s deeper consciousness…

The King came. Her footsteps barely touched the ground as she half-flew towards her target. She must have been concerned, seeing us merely standing there, with Celestia’s wings half-folded at her sides. Anyone in a duel like this would assume a trap—yet she had to finish it, no matter what.

I had to admire her.

Golden flames leapt in her path and she cut through them. Four, eight, sixteen Sword Kings came at us from every direction, illusions thrown up in the rippling air, though each might have been as deadly as the real thing. I wouldn’t find out.

Swords met her. A ring of telekinetic blades, then another, then spears taller than three men, all with spectral ponies to wield them. The Sword King and her copies cut them down by the dozen, only for more to take their place. They surrounded her, dove at her, and she became a haze of motion, parrying and dodging and slashing with a naginata that became its own whirlwind of spinning destruction while her copies fell and vanished.

I came on her then, as well. We, in truth, but our motions were so unified that there may as well not have been a rider. My horn blasted a searing beam that she caught on the flat of her blade. Even the incidental heat of it evaporated my telekinetic constructs, and the world shrank down to the two of us, lightning-wreathed Sword and the full, uninhibited strength of an ancient demigoddess. The Sword King pushed back, sending my own fire back at me along with scorching lashes of lightning that left jagged blue lines in my vision.

The earth shook beneath us, and distant rumbles knocked masonry off buildings and cracked foundations miles away. Still I came on, pushing forward, warded by a corona that seemed to come from deep within me, shining out through my skin as if it were transparent.

Soon my horn and her blade were nearly touching, and the arc of current between us could have fused atoms. The explosion, when it came, lit the sky from horizon to horizon, a rising column that spent its fury into the upper atmosphere.

Even then, the Sword King was not done. Her blade found me as she somehow came through even that torrent, cutting deep into my gut—but, this time, the pain was nothing I hadn’t felt before. I grabbed her hands with my own Ring-bearing one and there held her fast with all its power. My other hand, curled into a fist about the Cup, found her in turn. Again and again I struck, pounding and beating. Finally, I gripped her head and fell off Celestia’s—my?—back, and, rolling on the ground with the Sword still in me, pounded her head on the ground until, finally, blessedly, her grip slackened.

Bloody, sweaty, panting, I lay there tangled in the King of Swords, her blade, and Celestia’s reins about my ankle, while all around was silence. The King could have been dead or she could have been alive, but I didn't have enough left in me to feel guilty. The fires had been extinguished in that one titanic blast of wind. Moments later, the sound of distant alarms reached us, and I knew the surrounding city was responding to the catastrophe that had rocked it.

The light in me flickered uncertainly. Celestia’s mane dimmed and became once again the pink hair of sunset. My legs—my legs, not Celestia’s—shook as I forced myself to hands and knees, wincing whenever the Sword bumped and twisted in my innards. My world had narrowed again to a dim, wavering tunnel, and I could hardly think for how numb and weak I’d become in the wake of my fight.

The Sword was mine. I just had to unsheathe it.

I gripped the hilt, the hold firm despite my own slick blood, and willed it to change as the King had changed it. It took several tries—my thoughts were even slippier than my hands had become, and the thought ‘small knife’ was harder to grasp than it should have been. The blade faded and shrank at once into a tiny shiv, and fresh blood freed itself to spill out onto the steaming earth.

“Healing…” I moaned, fumbling about for the dropped Cup. “Need…”

My fingers curled around the wooden cup just as my limbs gave out, and Celestia tucked her head under me to pick me up and place me on her back. I didn’t know if I’d given that order, or if she’d somehow been able to take it on herself, but I was past caring. I stared up at her red-slicked muzzle and clung to her mane like it was my only lifeline.

Somehow, I had to trigger the Cup’s healing powers. Yes, the chalice in my hand, that one. I stared at it, wondering for a long moment why I was holding it, what it was, who I was, what I was doing with it.

We were flying again. Back towards the pit, the place of blood and sin. I think I ordered it, but I couldn’t recall. Everything had grown fuzzy and indistinct. Shimmering water spilled out of the Cup, an endless flow that seemed hypnotic in its radiant beauty. Tentatively, I touched my fingers to it and found it cool. It eased the burns on my fingertips.

More lost time. I was in a desert, now, and Celestia had settled down at my side as I lay against her. The water flowed forth in a rivulet, and she kept pushing the lid of the chalice towards me. Finally, feeling an idiot, I remembered at last what I was doing and weakly raised the rim to my lips and drank, and drank. The water gushed over my face and nose, but rather than sputter and drown I just held my mouth open and let it course over me. A sea of interweaving light.

Down I went once more, sinking into its tranquilizing depths. My memories waited for me down there, the smell of summer grass and overripe pomegranates, the tinkle of chimes and the wet sap of pine needles, the wind in my hair and the sand beneath my hooves. I closed my eyes, let go of any semblance of control, and faded into dissolute nothingness.

* * * * * * *

Author's Note:

Each of the Arcana extracts its due. She wins them in the way they were meant to be won. She defeated the Cup King in desire, the Ring King relinquished his out of reason, and she defeated the Sword King in a duel.

Amelia's is the tragedy of will. A driven individual, she could have been great, but the forces which shaped her have pushed her to make terrible decisions. She's seized greatness, but at what cost?

Instead of me blathering on about what different things might mean, though, I have questions for you all:
A) The Cup King marks Amelia's first kill. Notice how reluctant she is to think about it after the fact. Do you think she was justified? How do you think this is going to affect her going forward?
B) The battle for the Sword takes place on our Earth, and even in 2011 there were cell phone cameras galore. This is one of the most important events from an outside perspective - Amelia wrecks a human city. Doubtless, she herself wasn't identified (she barely even resembles herself) but something was seen? What sort of impact do you think that will have in human society?
BONUS ROUND) Tell me where Amelia entered our earth from and what its significance is. (GAME OVER. Answer: Mount Azazel, where the scapegoat was sent every year.)

Post in comments or IM me if you'd prefer.

Remember to Like, Comment, and Watch! Stay tuned next time for a Daphne episode.

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