The Night is Passing

by Cynewulf

XXIII. We Drift Like Worried Fire

CANTERLOT

The city is alive. All cities are or were so, at one point.

The city thinks and sleeps and dreams. It sleeps and it does not sleep. The ponies who walk its streets wander and talk. The things that they talk about in these days are not the things that they talked about in the days that are past. The darkness outside is not usually spoken of directly. Always, the circumstances which press upon the existences of these denizens are attacked from the side. The weather is a trusted avenue of complaint. Whining about the lack of a surfeit of food is another. The ponies on the higher tiers grimace with disgust at the rabble of discontent below. The ponies down on the low tier mock the pretensions to power or safety of their betters. They are both equally helpless.

Some topics of conversation remain. The Princesses are also an avenue of complaint.

“You know, they say she never really got used to the modern ways of handlin’ things,” says a tailor from Sandy Cove, a port in the East. He finishes off his third cheap brew and lets out a great belch. His folk are a small folk, an uncouth folk, an honest folk. This does not mean they do not gossip, for when they were still in situ, they did so often. “I heard tale that she can’t write in Equestrian but a little, see? Just here and there. She’s all but lost it. Went senile, perhaps.”

“Senility happens to the old,” points out the mare down the bar, who is tall, lithe, and from the south. She beat the borders for a decade, tracking the hydra as it passed, running off the wolf and avoiding the lion. She has seen many things. “And she’s old,” the hunter of the world’s vastness says. “I’ll warrant ye that, but she’s no old mare on a shiny chair. Princess Luna and our Celestia, they don’t age like we do.”

“Ain’t natural, I thought sometimes,” grumbles the drunk who has precious little history besides a few streets and dim memories of happiness.

“It sure would explain a lot,” the tailor says to cap the observation off.

It is night. On the streets the ponies come and go, talking in circles of things they do not understand.

“You know, I just don’t understand why we can’t just fix things,” says the high society mare to her companion.

“Well, even a princess must deal with day-to-day affairs,” her companion and occasional mistress replies. “Perhaps there are things we do not know of, yet.”

“Bah, you could say that of the common pony, but of us? Marigold, come now.”

Marigold, who had been born to a frightened servant girl in the wine cellar of House Epona, right beneath a well-matured and high quality bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, says nothing as to the merit of the commoner.

So ponies talk. Other ponies shout.

On the Terrestial tier, the lowest, there are many backways and shortcuts, alleyways that open into old apartments and courtyards with gardens that have run wild without constraining care. In one of these, down the street from the Redpony Market, a crowd has gathered. It is not a large crowd. There are fifty ponies here, but almost a dozen are not here to listen but to watch the listeners. In the middle is a tree, gnarled with age and shadowed by the tall buildings and spires. A few sit in the shade of the tree, which is the heart of the shade. Others shift their weight from one side to the other, waiting for they know not what. Ponies come to listen from the not-so-abandoned apartments to lean on their bannisters. The steps that lead up to the next floor in the courtyard below are crowded with white-cloaked observers. Their steely eyes are unwavering.

The pony who stands before the crowd on a box is not masked, but he is hooded. He sneers. He yells.

“Look, you have to open your eyes! We have all been deceived!”

“By what?” A heckler, near the back. There is, in fact, no heckler at all. This one is a plant, put there by the red-cloaked speaker whose hood turns towards him.

“By the great lie,” he says, smooth as oil. “You are being used for your work, your labor, your time. You are being robbed and thanking the thieves.”

“The hell?”

“The Good Stallion knows of your struggles, my brothers and sisters. He knows and wants to help. It was he who brought order to the streets of Las Pegasus and to the towers of Maripony! It was he who calmed the raging bandits in the southern badlands! The Good Stallion has shown them all a way out, a way to live better. Freedom is calling!

“Freedom from what? Why, freedom from the chains of slavery! You are all of you slaves. You kneel to these nobles and these lords and ladies. Worst of all, you believe the lies that the princess tells you. Do you think that there are really mindless bandits and raiders outside who want to hurt you? Of course not! In these hard times, she is simply afraid that you will open your eyes to the army of your comrades outside.”

“My family died in a raider attack, you bastard! I know they’re out there.” This one is indeed a heckler. He stepped from the crowd, furious, a wall of angry intent. “What do you have to say about them?”

“The raiders of the south have been tamed and brought to the light, friend. The Good Stallion has turned them down paths of righteousness. That the same has not happened here must be laid upon a lack of action. If the princess is as great as she says, then why do we hide when others do not?”

“Because I think you’re lying,” says the large heckler. “What do you want? Just spit it out already.”

“The princess must be made to give up the reins of power!”

Grumblings. It is hard to think of such a thing. A thousand years is hard for any pony to move.

“Bullshit!”

The speaker raises both hooves up to the heavens. “Now, now, please listen. Judge for yourselves, but I have seen the truth. I know it! The Good Stallion can deliver us from this darkness. Think! Stop walking in your ignorance, and look up at the skies, and see the darkness. The true darkness is oppression. Who do you think has kept the sun from us? Who do you think? Ask yourself where Celestia is. Ask yourselves what could have been done better. What has been done. What may yet be done. The ponies of this land must be free to raise their own suns!”

The whitecloaks watch in the streets. The ponies of Canterlot talk and sleep, but the whitecloaks do not talk or speak.

TWILIGHT

It is a strange thing to wake up in a body not your own. To be fair, she had not really woken up. The pony to whom Twilight Sparkle was now tied had woken up.

Twilight Sparkle knew certain things immediately. This pony’s name was Ruby, and she was a mare. Twilight thanked the stars for small mercies. Ruby was sprawled out, tangled in the sheets of a large bed. The sun did not creep in but rather invaded the room like the arrogant bitch she was. This comparison was not Twilight’s, who also knew that Ruby did not particularly enjoy waking up. Morning was not her favorite time.

Twilight Sparkle felt certain things. She felt the warm sun, the soft sheets, the residual headache of a night of merriment, and a coastal breeze blowing on her mane. The headache excluded, it was not a bad moment. Even the headache had a sort of smugness about it. Ruby’s head only hurt because she had enjoyed herself an awful lot, after all. It was also easily cured, Twilight thought, for coffee was abundant in the world, and it was good.

Ruby thought to herself that it was a shame she had never liked coffee. Twilight was stunned into mental silence by the horror of this.

Luna’s voice—not the same, but close—drifted in with the breeze. “I can hear thy shuffling, Ruby of Canter.”

Ruby chuckled. “If you wouldst have been in thine true element, perhaps it would be I who was up early.”

“I am comfortable in the sun,” Luna replied, and Ruby’s head turned to see her. Twilight’s sight, tied to hers, saw everything she did. Twilight, in fact, saw much more. Ruby’s mortal eyes saw the world, all of its vast surface, but Twilight saw with the mind’s eye and saw every crack and intricacy.

And both Twilight and Ruby felt something together, some large and moving emotion.

Twilight realized with something between shock and dismay that it was love. Ruby smiled, thinking how beautiful Luna was on the balcony in terms that made Twilight want to crawl out of her mind by force. It was wrong. She should not be here; she should not be listening. For everything Ruby felt, Twilight felt, and every intimate memory that Ruby knew, now Twilight could see and feel and smell and taste. In an instant, as a smiling Ruby rose from their bed, stretching, Twilight knew what it was to be Luna’s lover, and her mind almost buckled under contradiction.

And then in as quick a moment as the strain had come, it passed. Twilight would have been shaking, but she had no body of her own to shake.

Twilight? It was Luna’s voice, but it was not Ruby’s Luna. It was Twilight’s Luna, older now and sadder.

Yes? Oh Stars, Luna, I had no way of knowing. I’m sorry. I didn’t try to look—

She felt Luna’s presence now, reassuring her. I know. It is alright, Twilight Sparkle. It is quite alright. I asked you to do this knowing you might see and feel such things, and am not affronted. I did not know if you would be connected well enough to truly… experience. I am sorry.

It’s… it’s okay. I think it’s okay. Ruby kissed Luna softly, and together they stood on the balcony. Wow, this is awkward. Twilight wished she could laugh but figured Luna would pick up on the humor she exuded.

I am a bit shy about it as well, Twilight, Luna said as the two lovers looked out over the city. But I do hope the view is some consolation.

It was. Maldon was in its prime. The city stretched out before them like a cat, luxurious in its pace and vast in its riches. The architecture was strange, but not entirely alien. Twilight saw it as a collage, a kaleidoscope of half a dozen ancient cultures. This was a true metropolis.

This is kind of what I imagined when you described Jannah to me before we left, Twilight thought. She felt Luna scoffing. Hey! Didn’t have much to go on. I recognize Second Dynasty Zebraharan influences… old Crystal architecture… all kinds of things. What was this place?

The greatest trading port on earth, Luna said. For a time, at least. This was at its height.

The memory Luna sighed happily. “I am glad to be rid of the sea, at least for a time.”

“One almost forgets wherefore we were summoned,” Ruby agreed.

Memory Luna grimaced. “Indeed. I had hoped to forget it a bit longer.”

“T’would not be good of me, your sword, to allow such a thing,” Ruby said with a grin and nuzzled against Luna’s shoulder. Ruby was a tall unicorn, taller by at least a head than Twilight.

“More sheath than sword,” Luna said, and Ruby burst out laughing, catching herself in convulsing giggles on the balcony rail.

“Oh, Luna! Your tongue is sweet and sour in turns.”

“I do try,” memory Luna said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Twilight knew this because Ruby knew it. Ruby stroked the alicorn’s cheek. “We shall be fine. If thou would but keep the faith…”

“I worry. Celestia is not worrying enough.”

“I also worry. Thy sister sometimes hides what she feels from us, Luna.”

Luna grunted. “Regardless, it will be time to find sustenance shortly.”

“I hear the call of adventure!” Ruby said and turned to leave, flicking her tail under Luna’s chin.

Twilight was somewhere between mortified and intrigued.

Twilight and Luna found themselves in their borrowed forms strolling through the streets of Maldon. On every street corner the produce and treasures of the world were ready to be traded, and they attracted Twilight’s mental attention. She would have gasped had she been bodied.

Luna, she began, some of these things they’re selling… There, the amphorae. I’ve only seen things like that in the Royal Museum in Canterlot.

She felt Luna’s amusement. Yes, but in the past, they were simple objects. It is the nature of such things, Twilight.

So what happened? Twilight asked.

Invasion.

With the word came flashes of memory. The flashes became something more, pressing on Twilight with spurs of meaning, of sensation. She could feel the heat of her own breathing, the weight of a warhammer in her magic’s grip, the drain of casting another shield around her person. Rain poured from the sky, flooded the plain, turned the ground into churning, bloody mud—

Twilight’s mental sight blurred.

Who? she asked.

At the time, we said it was Zandikar, an old city-state in the West. Twilight felt in these words a great weariness. For centuries they raided, Twilight, but after the battle that day on Maldon’s shore, we finally decided that they could be allowed to roam no longer. The sailors of the ships that burned or fled or were abandoned all bore the Sigil of the Crow. The dead zebras and bat ponies on the sand and in the hills bore the tattoo markings of seven of the eighteen pirate clans of Zandikar. It was them, Twilight.

But… you don’t sound sure. Twilight didn’t have to say it. She could feel it like one feels heat. In that moment, she was sure Luna felt her own great doubt in the same way.

I am beginning to wonder, Twilight. The pirates of Zandikar were renowned for their ferocity, but what I saw that day was beyond any battle I had ever fought. Beyond all battles moves the Song, as my sister says, but on that day, even she struggled to hear it. The Molla of Zandikar swore to us in all the tongues he knew that he had heard of no such raid. We thought he was lying, of course… She paused. Twilight, I ventured deep into the Dreaming and saw—

What she would have said was lost as both ponies experienced a strange vertigo as if the world had tilted on its side. The memories of Ancient Maldon did not seem to notice, as they went about their business. The memory of Ruby and the memory of Luna chatted and walked in intimate closeness together unperturbed. But Twilight could no longer tell up from down.

And then it passed. She could feel Luna’s influence, feel a well of strange emotions all mixing together at once. She felt something warm and good, something frightened and cold.

I am being called, Luna said.

By who? Twilight’s heart would have skipped a beat had she only brought it with her into the Aether. Always, in the back of her mind, there was the thought that this time it would be Celestia around the corner. The same thought had followed her through all of the ordeal of the Long Night. Celestia would be in the next room, around the bend, over in the next street. Not gone, simply out of sight. Any moment would be her advent. Any moment.

Your… yes, I believe I know who it is. Do not worry yourself, Twilight, for it is your friend. Rarity of Ponyville has some need of me.

Twilight’s disappointment was vast, virulent, and brief. Almost immediately, it was followed by a relief that far outmatched any sadness she had felt. Celestia had been gone for some time, Rarity only for a month.

So she is alright, then! Twilight said.

That she is. Come. I will restore you to your form, and we will walk in the Dreaming, Luna said, and Twilight felt pulled from her seat behind the eyes of Ruby until, somehow, she was lying in the street. The memory of the place had frozen, locked in time. She could see Ruby with her own eyes now, and she examined her closely.

Luna had become two. Twilight did not look over but spoke regardless. “She meant a lot to you. How was I able to hear her memories?”

“I shared the bond with her in a way much stronger than with Spike. She was a companion for a decade before we were lovers. It was a different world, Twilight. For two mares… it would have been viewed in such revolting terms. I did not wish her to be known as a plaything as if I were some mistress ruining mares in my service for cheap thrills.”

“So you could hear her thoughts?”

“No. They are stored with mine here in the Aether. I have trouble unlocking them alone, in fact. It is much like reading a language one knows mostly in theory.”

Twilight could understand that. She nodded. “Is Rarity alright?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“She’s dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Twilight cocked her head to the side, looking deeply into Ruby’s eyes. “I am full of questions.”

“I can feel them bubbling.”

Twilight was suddenly aware that she could, in fact, feel her own curiosity almost physically. She laughed. “Well, this is awkward. I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but… could you tell me about her?” Twilight at last turned to Luna, who stood beside an ancient oak door that glowed argent.

“Yes. It is some ways away. Enough, I think, for stories.”

The door opened on a grassy hill on an endless, snowy plain. A single great oak adorned the crest, looking out over the tundra. The hill was in impossible summer, the fields about it in the heart of winter.

Twilight blinked, dazed by the transition from the aetheric chaos of stars and darkness and color to the more concrete world of an individual dream.

Rarity stood beside the oak, in the shadow, looking at them and yet not seeing them. Twilight was about to ask, but then Luna stepped forth away from the door, and Rarity jumped.

“I didn’t see you enter! I expected some great flash,” she said, composing herself. “I am glad you came, though, Your Highness. I didn’t know how this would work.”

“I am impressed, for my part, that you grasped how to summon me,” Luna replied.

Twilight stepped forward out of the veil of the doorway. “Hey, Rarity.”

Rarity jumped again, this time closing the gap between her and Twilight. Twilight found herself carried into a powerful hug, wrapped up in a way that in living memory she could not ever recall Rarity having done.

“Twilight! By the stars, I have worried about you!” Rarity let her go, and Twilight caught her breath before being fussed over and nuzzled and chatted at. “It has been a month or so, right? I lose track… Oh dear, how has it been? How far are you? Is Applejack being just ghastly about the whole thing? Has Pinkie gone mad?”

Twilight struggled to answer through laughter. “Yes! Yes, we’re all still here. We picked up some… Rarity, please! Picked up some friends.”

“Oh, dear… I know this isn’t your body, so I don’t know why I want to fuss. It’s simply been so long.”

“Only a month.”

“Give or take, but that long of travel and battle and whatever else. We’ve seen terrible things. I know that you have.”

Twilight looked away. “Yeah.”

“But it is behind us,” Rarity continued, firmly resting her hooves on Twilight’s shoulders. “See? Both of us are safe and sound. Rainbow and Fluttershy live and thrive! Well. Perhaps not thrive, Rainbow’s hangover still hasn’t entirely dissipated…”

“Hangover?” Twilight snorted. “Sounds just like her. World’s falling apart—”

“—and Rainbow Dash still finds the last bottle of Wild Pegasus and a nice cloud. Yes, you’ve said so before, I think,” Rarity finished.

“Still mean it,” Twilight said and hugged her friend. “I’m glad to see you too, Rarity. I was worried.”

“Worried doesn’t cover it. Twilight, you seem… better.”

“Like less of a antisocial bitch, you mean,” Twilight responded.

“I would not go so far,” Rarity said, haltingly.

“The Apostate,” Twilight continued. “I’m… I’m not different, yet. But I’m not the same, either. Does that make sense? When we were in Canterlot, I drew inside myself, and it hurts to come out.”

Rarity sighed, but she smiled. “Twilight, I have waited a long time for you to say something like that.”

“I think I have been too.”

Rarity looked to Luna. “Your Highness, forgive me. I didn’t mean to ignore you. How is Spike and the city? How are you, furthermore?”

Luna smiled down at her. “We are well,” she answered, shrugging. “As much as can be expected. The city grumbles a bit, but it lives. Spike has done deeds of valor already in our service.”

“Deeds of valor,” Rarity repeated. The aether was strange, curling in on itself with an emotion Twilight also knew that she shared. But it faded away. “Twilight, in all of my excitement at your coming, I had almost forgotten why I had called you. Or, I suppose, it would be more accurate to say that I called you, Princess.”

“And I have come. What need you?”

“Besides company, you mean?” Rarity smiled. “You’ll notice I was not alone before,” she added in an almost conspiratorial way to Luna, and Twilight was amazed at the look of almost girlish glee that Luna returned, like a foal who has concocted some worthwhile plan. But the moment passed. “Luna, the situation in Imperial Center seems less sure and stable than I had originally thought.”

Twilight started. “I haven’t heard anything. What is it like in the Empire?”

Rarity sighed. “Well, they’re alive, for starters. I’ve said hello to your brother and his wife, and they are in good enough spirits to overlook Rainbow procuring their alcohol in the night—if that means anything. Imperial Center is secure, or at least appears to be, and the other cities of the North seem to be well-protected. They even have a wall around the great crystal city,” she added with a hint of amusement.

“A wall?” Luna asked. “Why, there has been no wall put about that city in… Well, a long time. It was a source of pride, I recall, that they had no need of walls.”

“They don’t really have one now,” Rarity said. “It’s an illusion placed in between the gaps of the real wall. There’s a huge shield keeping the Mitou at bay somehow. I don’t really know how it works, but I am positive there is more to it than the illusion of the wall.”

“Mitou?” Twilight interrupted. “Hold on.”

“Mitou. They are… fearsome. Great white-furred creatures who walk on two legs and can crush ponies in one hand,” Rarity said, grimacing. “There are hundreds of them at least. They’ve chased the changelings out of the mountains and into the arms of the crystal ponies. The queens are… dead,” she said. She blinked, working her mouth as if feeling around potential things to say on the matter. “I’m not sure what to think about that,” she said at last. “The changelings here without queens are docile. Friendly, even.”

“They have not been monsters at all points in history,” Luna said softly. “But we will attend to that when there is time, Rarity of Ponyville. I sense that is not what concerns you.”

“No. It’s… the Changelings claim that they can access the Dreaming in a way similar to how you do. Is that true?”

Luna pursed her lips. Twilight cocked her head to one side, watching, surprised. “Yes,” Luna answered. “I wish to qualify that statement, but I realize much of what I would say would be lost on the both of you. What have they seen?”

“Minds poisoned by some sort of darkness that they say is both new and terrifying. Something disturbing the Aether. Something that wants to kill Cadance.”

“To what end?” Luna asked, sharp, her face changed in a way that Twilight now recognized from her trip in Ruby’s mind. This was Luna at war.

“To let the Mitou finish what they started. They’re massing around the city, bothering traders and shipments but mostly focusing on surrounding Imperial Center. I’ve spoken to Shining and some of his officers, and putting that together with what I’ve gathered from the changelings, I can assume that the two are connected.”

Luna shook herself and walked off towards the snow without a word. Rarity and Twilight looked at one another, confused, but did not immediately pursue. They waited, sitting in the warm grass.

Luna looked out over an endless tundra, no doubt taken from Rarity’s memories. Twilight could see her fidgeting, noticed how she trembled and within herself felt something warm and soft. She moved first and sat by Luna’s side.

“What is it?” she asked simply.

“I have been a fool most of my life, Twilight,” Luna answered. “In case you had not guessed. From my youngest days until now. I can not hide any longer. I spoke to you of the horror of Jannah, but I was brief.”

“Yes. You wouldn’t tell me what went wrong, and it bothered me for a while. I spent a few nights trying to figure out what would cause all of that. I had nothing.”

“Because magic didn’t do it,” Luna hissed, her teeth gritted, her eyes wide. “No pony did that. No, no… Oh Celestia. You… you absolute idiot.” Luna flared her wings and turned to stare down at Twilight, who reeled as a wave of anger washed over the dream, bathing it in red light in waves. This was not mere anger. It was rage. It was something broken and sharp and hot and Twilight felt like a child. She wanted to hide and weep.

“Luna… Luna, stop! You’re scaring me!” she managed.

Luna looked away but did not stop her tirade. “I’ve been blind! Jannah, Zandikar, the battle at the Gorge, the Mad God, Celestia… it was always right there! Always, always, always and I just let it slip right past me! Celestia, you damned fool! You left me here alone!”

“Luna!”

Luna whirled back on both Twilight and Rarity, and perhaps seeing their fear, she shut her eyes and covered them with a hoof.

They stood silent.

Luan broke the silence. “Rarity, come here, please.”

“I… of course.”

“Twilight,” Luna continued, “I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Twilight said, swallowing, shaken.

“Jannah was sealed because of the Fall, and that Fall was the fault of ponies. I have misspoken. But it was not they who tore open the world and bled her out into the streets of the city. Do you know how we, the alicorns, were born?”

“Singing,” Rarity said, almost by rote, in a dazed fashion. “First, the Alicorns in their numbers brought singing into the world.”

Luna’a eyes widened. She leaned in closely. “You? A Celestialist?”

Rarity blushed furiously, and embarrassment washed over Twilight. “No, my mother was raised that way, and she taught me some of the chants. I liked them as a child. They were pretty. I am sorry, Princess.”

“Do not be,” Luna said, waving a hoof with a strange expression. “It is not offensive to me; it is simply bizarre to encounter such in my own circle of acquaintance. But they are not wrong on this point. We were born out of the song, one after another. I was the last of the Songborne.”

“Celestia was right before you,” Rarity said quietly, looking at her hooves.

“Yes. But that does not mean it was all in rapid succession. You must understand that time before my birth was very fluid. Sometimes they sang, and sometimes they did not. Celestia spoke of arias that would last years or perhaps minutes. Celestia guessed she had been singing and exploring and laughing in the dawn time for a century before I was born at last.”

“Dawn?”

“The sun stayed forever on the cusp of the horizon, and we knew neither night nor day,” Luna said evenly. “I… I have not spoken of this before to those who were not there.”

“We are honored, Princess,” Rarity said.

Luna chuckled, but it seemed hollow to Twilight. “When I was born, the song crescendoed into a final great chorus, into one last chord of creation, and then there was silence. At least, that is what was meant to happen. But it had other plans. It, being, of course, the sour note at the end of the great song, the twist in the chord, the braying tongue of some Other Thing. And the song ended in a great cry, an unplanned encore, and that momentary disturbance was forgotten. But it was darkness, darkness covering the lands around the great tableland of Jannah, and the first that I saw when I came out of the pool was the darkness receding and then my sister holding me as I cried. They had never seen a pony cry before,” she said. She smiled. “It is perhaps accurate to say I was the first. As far as I know.

“But that darkness… my sister didn’t forget. The other alicorns did, but I know Celestia never really forgot it. That was what the ponies at Jannah found. They let it seep into our world, whatever it was. They broke the seals on the prison that the song built for it.”

“What is it?” Rarity asked.

“I do not know what to call it,” Luna said. “Darkness? Despair? A Sickness in the world, unto the death? I do not know. Celestia, I think, had a name for it, but I do not. It is just the Shadow to me. But now I see connections that I must attribute to it. When Celestia did not return, the rumblings that spread through Equestria, were they not odd? Or when one day my sister seemed to abandon her caretaking of the sun? Or when in short order our realm fell apart so easily, far too easily? It was easy. So easy. I have said so before. What I said once in agony, I say now again in prime suspicion.”

Twilight shivered. She looked back towards the tree in the Summer and noticed finally a sleeping pony beneath it. The grass looked nice. She wanted to lay quietly in it, with Rarity and Luna, and not speak of the Shadow. The word filled her with dread. All of her suspicions came back to her now. Every dark hint she had whispered to her friends, that something about the whole affair of the Long Night did not add up, all of it came rushing back. She saw in her mind’s eye a great clawed hand reaching out from the dark horizon to scrape its ragged nails through the green farmlands of her home. Twilight could see the those fingers finding purchase, pulling at some set of heartstrings, driving little ponies mad with despair. But that couldn’t be true. It simply was not true. To think that such a thing could be the cause of all of their woes… Twilight wanted to laugh. What a copout. What cheap grace would one need to escape such a cheap evil? But then she thought about the slaves of Vanhoover, and the Griffon schism at Manehattan, and she smelled the cooking pony flesh on their spits, and she felt the biting cold of a long winter—and Twilight no longer wished to laugh.

“I must find Celestia’s old diaries,” Luna said at last. “I know nothing.”

“Before you do that, Princess,” Rarity said, subdued, “if you are right, that means that there is some… thing that is capable of manipulating ponies in our world. I don’t know what to do with that. But I do know that only you would be able to find the ponies that the changelings have seen in the Aether. We need to find them before they do anything.”

“Agreed,” Luna said with a nod.

“Is there anything you could do from here?” Twilight asked softly. “I mean… this isn’t the real world.”

“Ah, faithless Twilight,” Luna said, smiling genuinely. It was a bit too close to Apostate for her tastes, but Luna meant no harm. “No, I am not there in person, but much can be done with magic and an old wit. Yes, Rarity, I can do something for you. In fact, I know just what to do.”

Luna shifted her weight, trying to compose herself. Twilight felt hollow, unsure of what to make of it all. “This is too much,” she said. “I mean… if you’re right, what do we do? How do beat something that makes holes in reality? What does that even mean? My mind won’t… wrap around it. I feel like I’m trying to eat a whole melon at once here,” she said, chuckling weakly. “Luna… there’s no way this can be true. It can’t be some crazy dark whatever hounding the world. We did this to ourselves, didn’t we? I mean, I’ve seen such terrible things. Ponies did them. No one held them by the hoof and made them do any of those things. They chose to do evil acts. I saw them. My experience and what you’re saying don’t seem to add up entirely.”

“They need not be mutually exclusive,” Rarity offered.

“We have been deceived,” Luna said firmly. “Imagine a fire, Twilight. A small fire might yet burn into a great one on its own and all that without outward cause. But if I were to pour the petrol that we used in our airships on that fire…” Luna gestured, and Twilight picked up where she left off.

“I suppose it would grow out of control quickly,” Twilight said. “And so you say we are like fire, and this Shadow was like fuel or someone providing fuel.”

“The evil in the heart of ponies is real, and it is not as small as their frames are.”

Twilight shuddered. “Then it is even worse than I had imagined. I can’t even tell myself someone was making us do it all. We really have done it all ourselves. All of this was with us all along.”

Luna seemed to hesitate between moving and staying still, her hoof suspended. She seemed to decide; she did not move. “Yes, I fear. I am perhaps wrong, but I do not think so. I do not think so at all. I have felt a great foreboding, a great shadow. I had thought it alternatively my own despair, or the loss of my sister, or the dread of the future. But now I see through a clear glass and it must be the Shadow itself. It presses on me as it perhaps pressed upon my sister, for now I know that she did not simply vanish. I believe she went west in order to forestall the creeping Shadow, and that she has not come back to us…”

Twilight’s heart was in her throat. “Maybe it’s just a big job,” she offered weakly. “I mean, it could take a lot of fighting to put something like this away. That’s not so hard to believe. There are plenty of possibilities. A myriad of different possibilities. Celestia works in mysterious ways,” she added with a sick half smile, a face that twisted into a grimace, a voice that trembled like a knife on the tip of a dragon’s finger.

“Perhaps,” Luna said.

“Twilight…” Rarity began, but Twilight shook her head. She did not wish comfort. She wished to know.

“Rarity, it is possible for me to alter some of this program of indoctrination. It is probably too late to undo it, but I could perhaps do my own suggesting. A certain time and place, a certain activity… I will see what can be done, and when you awake, you shall know.”

Rarity bowed. “Thank you, Princess.”

“Twilight?” Luna looked down at her. Twilight knew her face was set in a troubled frown but did not care. “Would you take your leave or stay?”

Twilight blinked. “I… I don’t know, honestly.”

“Stay, perhaps,” Rarity said. “I wouldn’t mind the company, to be honest. We could sit under the tree and talk. There’s a lot to talk about.”

Twilight sighed, but she smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess there is.”

The Shadow weighed heavily. Rather, the possibility of Shadow weighed heavily, and that was enough. Twilight refused to accept it even as she saw it in the corner of her eye. Rarity’s thoughts were unknown. Luna did not smile, and she did not waver from her inward-looking anger. Her anger flowed freely in the aether. Twilight and Luna and Rarity could all feel every passion and every sorrow in its time, and so felt in short order anger and sorrow and acceptance and something like love. Twilight did not have the presence of mind to separate the waves one from the other. If somepony held some secret that was waving in the wind, she did not care. Let them feel like they would. What she felt was a world enough for her.

It was a quiet dream, but in the way a storm front was quiet. In the way a blade was quiet.

Author's Note:

djbgjng

bluhfklewn

Chapter is up, time for a cigarette

Comments

[TheLastBrunnenG]

A Sickness in the world, unto the death?

Fear and Trembling and Cynewulf.

Oh, you.

[Willsons]

Pure gold, I just love the world you've crafted.

[Cynewulf]

5516928 I'm kind of a monomaniac that way

[Carbon]

OK, but why Celestia go alone fight with this Shadow-thing? Why not pick Twilight, Luna, maybe M6?

[Aatxe360]

I particularly noted Rarity's expectation and acceptance of Twilight's self-awareness. I did not see that coming and I can't recall if I should have. And then I realized I should have expected it all along.

[Cynewulf]

5519026 Twilight'll just have to ask her.

[Carbon]

5520989
if she can chase her.

[Swarthy Skies]

Finally got caught up again on this. I've always loved high fantasy themes and your own constructs of The Well, The Song, and Jannah have had me captivated from your other works for a while. Being able to see them fleshed out in their own epic is really awesome!

I've really been enjoying the friend-shipping going on as well. The 'raid' and subsequent party Rarity, Rainbow, and Fluttershy had was particularly fun, I wish there were more scenes of the girls sitting around and just having fun like that in canon and in fanfiction in general. Likewise seeing Twilight begin to reconnect with all her friends and Luna has been giving me warm fuzzy feelings.

As someone who has been craving a good Twilestia adventure story (seriously, why don't these exist!?) for a long, long time I must admit I have a pretty heavy focus on that side of things and I'm really anxious to see where you take that.

Also, is no one going to bring up that Spike seemingly dragon-mailed an enraged manticore to wherever Celestia is?

[Cynewulf]

5527680 Damn, I was worried someone would say/think that! No, I'll make sure to clear this up at some point, but he's using normal fire. The idea being that his magical fire was either some other innate ability or something Twilight taught him, etc, but that's not the same as just his normal dragon fire that he got as he grew up.

Also,thank you! It means a lot. :)

As far as friends and low-key merriment, I know for a fact that shortskirtsandexplosions has a few fics that are along those lines (people are so surprised by that) and while you're there you can read one of the funniest and stupidest stories ever

[Cynewulf]

5543977 Yup! Messed that up. sorry 'bout that

[Biker_Dash]

I cannot wait for the next chapter. This story has earned its place in my Best of the Best shelf.

[MoonShadow1]

I'm really loving this story. It differently up there in my top 4 stories. Keep up the great work Cynewulf, I cant wait to see how this one turns out.

[FlameSwordedLink]

It`s 2:25 and I need to sleep. So what do I do? I log onto FiMFic and read. Stupid brain that loves books too much for its own good....

[Cynewulf]

5635824 Well, I didn't add it. But! I think there is easily textual evidence to include it in them. I may not *neccessarily* agree with one or two, or I might just think they all fit. But what was interesting to me is that someone thought it fit. It means they were paying attention.

(I am reminded, amusingly, of my fraternity's unofficial cardinal rule: DENY DENY DENY)

5635936 go to slep, brah!

[FlameSwordedLink]

5636838

1. OK, so what you`re saying is that you think that the story could fit in the groups, but you didn`t personally add them. Am I correct?
2. FiMFic is love, FiMFic is life. Sleep is a want, not a need.

[Cynewulf]

5639426 Yep. I added it to a few groups, but the Twi Harem thing? def not me

[FlameSwordedLink]

5639492

OK then. If you added it to the TwiLuna group though, then I know spoilers that are easily accessible. ...In short, I am your common smart alec.

[Snowkitsune]

Itssssss Punishment time!!! despair

[FloydienSlip]

Saving the last three chapters for tomorrow when I'm not dead tired, but this has been amazing so far.

[Ice Star]

I remember Ruby from Hammer! :D