Travel along Princess Celestia and her not-so-faithful student Sunset Shimmer to the land of sweltering heat, undiscovered temples and ancient beliefs! Oh, and sand. A lot of sand.
Princess Celestia is a proud mentor to an extraordinary filly.
That very filly has read all there was in the vast libraries of Canterlot, and is bored to death during lectures at the School for the Gifted Unicorns where she attends. She’s also destined to bear the Element of Magic, and one day, perhaps, even take Celestia’s place on the throne. She may have some rough edges, true, but Celestia is going to teach her the magic of friendship and the values that are important in life.
If only Sunset Shimmer could stop sabotaging her efforts wherever they go.
Reviewed by Corejo and Csquared08 here! Also by PresentPerfect here! Check out Tales of the Sun to get this story in print!
You are basking in the sun, surrounded by an endless ocean of your nearly identical brothers and sisters. Don’t get me wrong, I know for certain that you’re anything but ordinary in this crazy crowd. You feel a cut above the rest, and rightfully so—your amber skin has a roguish red streak, envied greatly by many your age, and you’re also the one who inspired that earth-shattering avalanche last week. Sure, some would say shortening a dune by a quarter of an inch isn’t much of an achievement, but what do they know? When was the last time they took responsibility for shaping the greatest desert of Saddle Arabia?
Don’t let those sad cynics get to you, grain. In fact, I see you don’t let anyone get through to you, which is admirable as much as it is unsettling. You’re lounging at the peak alone because you think you alone deserve it, because you earned your position through passion and hard work. Or was such a great prestige simply thrust upon you? Oh, don’t give me that look, I’m not judging. I know there’s only so much space at the top, so if you say your goals and dreams are infinitely more important than those of the masses, who am I to preach otherwise?
You dream of adventure. You dream of traveling beyond the sun-scorched horizon and everything you have ever known, to a place where the scenery is made of more than just sand hills and withered bushes. Where fauna and flora is lush and vibrant, and not limited to jackals, vultures or rude cacti like the one you saw the other day. Where weather is for ambiance rather than sucking the life out of everything that crawls.
It’s a beautiful vision, many thanks for sharing it with me. You know, I come from a place such as the one in your dream, and I would like to propose an exchange: you tell me more about the desert life, and I’ll give you a foretaste of how it’s like living in a faraway land. No, no need to thank me, the pleasure is all mine. Let me even go first, grain, as a small token of my friendship. Ha! I can see you’re tumbling with excitement already!
Now, where do I begin? Imagine… imagine…
Imagine the shadow of an alicorn cast upon you.
* * *
“Look ahead, Princess. A sandstorm.”
Celestia squinted at the approaching wall of dust. “I would prefer to not have my mane all ruffled for our meeting with Rashid and the ponies of Al-Hoofuf.” She glanced at her student who already put on a pair of oversize goggles—a handy measure whenever sand was involved. “How about you, Sunset? Do you think you could get us through?”
“With pleasure.”
With a cocky grin, Sunset took a step forward and her horn began to glow. Celestia felt a slight twitch when the filly attuned herself to the streams of magic, little rivers full of arcane energy flowing around them. The magic took shape of twelve fields which appeared out of thin air one by one, twirling like snowflakes never to be seen in these parts. They joined together to create a barrier around Sunset and her mentor, separating them and a wheelbarrow’s worth of sand under their hooves from the rest of the dune sea.
Celestia passed her hoof along the shimmering bindings, feeling soft vibrations underneath. She admired the ease with which her protégée weaved her spells. This time Sunset went for a sturdy construction with little options to alter the form. In a way, the filly was wagering the strength of her spell against the strength of the sandstorm.
“Very good,” Celestia said. “The storm should last about thirty seconds if I’m not mistaken.”
The world around them took a cyan tint as Sunset poured even more magic into the barrier.
“That’s it? I dare it to last twice as long!”
“Try to maintain your spell for as long as you can, but there’s no need to strain yourself. And remember: I’m right behind you, so if anything goes wrong—”
“It won’t.”
The storm reached them sooner than expected.
The earth began to shake, a massive cloud of dust blocked out the sky, and the barrier, however lasting, was only partially good at filtering the sound of the roaring wind. In a matter of seconds tons of harmless sand became a force to be reckoned with, once again justifying the reason for naming seasonal sandstorms after dragons. Both could level a village and make nothing of it, swallowing unlucky ponies and depriving them of their prized possessions—and yet, or perhaps for that very reason, the Dragon Dominion approved greatly of such a convention.
Celestia was more interested in her student’s condition than in the ravaging chaos only two steps from her. Sunset’s horn was flickering with enough magic to illuminate their little field of serenity, and the filly herself stood firm with no intention of yielding. She treated it like another challenge, drawing great strength from her desire to overcome it. But it was not enough. Sunset held her prideful posture for a good twenty seconds when it became clear that the sand’s continuous assault was too much for her to handle.
When Celestia opened her mind to the streams of magic as well, she discovered something... unnatural. It was like a long forgotten sensation of malevolence locked in the very flow of the wind, a faint magical echo guiding the storm explicitly against them. It was almost as if the sand which had already passed by them wanted to return for another lash, again and again. The origins of the phenomenon, however, were elusive at best.
Sunset maintained the barrier valiantly despite trembling and trickles of sweat coming down her forehead. She paid no attention to her hooves either, already buried deep in the sand. A grimace of pain twisted her mouth, but her eyes were burning with the passion she was full of whenever she attempted to push her limits.
“Exemplary performance!” Celestia shouted over the wind. “I’ll take it from here!”
The fields at the front were barely holding, and tiny cracks along their surface were growing at an alarming rate. Sunset tried to turn the barrier around, but the arcane bindings were too rigid.
“I’m… I’m f-fine!” she snapped angrily between heavy breaths. “I will not lose… just let me…”
“That’s enough!”
“Argh!”
Sunset fought to the last second. When the last ounce of magic ebbed away from her horn, she screamed and fell to the ground, her entire body jolting from the struggle. The barrier went from cyan to transparent only to be torn to shreds a moment later. Sunset curled up and braced herself for the merciless force of nature to fling her back to Canterlot and beyond.
When no such journey occurred, she breathed a sand-free sigh of relief and opened her eyes.
“Wow.”
She was encased in a bubble of golden energy, bright and imposing like the sun itself. Unlike her own barrier, it had its fields in constant motion, and the bindings served as rails which moved them around. Across multiple layers, the bubble was shifting and adjusting to the currents pushing against the surface, and the sand which met it head-on was instantly vitrified. As tiny droplets of liquid glass, it was sticking to the outer side to further protect Sunset and the one responsible for this impressive show of power.
Nature was a force to be reckoned with, but so was Princess Celestia in her blazing might.
The storm raced on with the desert wind, leaving them under the clear blue sky as if nothing of interest had ever happened. After the final wave of dust settled down, Celestia dispelled the bubble, threw away the glass umbrella and attended to her student.
“Are you hurt, little one?”
Sunset carried out a swift revenge on the world’s stocks of sand by kicking a nearby pile into the air.
“Just my pride,” she reluctantly replied and let the goggles slide down her neck. “Sorry I failed you, Princess.”
“You should not be ashamed of your performance, as it was admirable,” Celestia replied. “I know of no other unicorn your age capable of conjuring a twelve-piece shield, let alone maintaining it under such pressure and not losing their composure within the first five seconds. That said, while you never cease to amaze me with your magical prowess—”
“What can I say, I have a great teacher.”
Celestia furrowed her brow. “That said, you’re not getting away that easily.”
Sunset shrugged and casually flicked the sand off her saddlebag. “Still, worth a shot.”
Against all reason and the atmosphere of tuition she wanted to establish, Celestia let out a gentle chuckle. Yes, she was entrusted with raising and setting the sun every day, and yes, she was the leader of a wonderful nation, but in the end she had a pretty soft spot for her students, and her subjects overall. She wasn’t capable of reprimanding them for their own charming quirks and little behaviors which made each and every one so unique.
Still, she was a teacher at heart. She could at least try to make it a valuable lesson.
“Sunset Shimmer,” she said on a serious note. “While you have certainly developed your skills since we were first introduced, I’m concerned about your attitude. Trying to be your best is one thing, but there is no shame in admitting you cannot do something on your own, especially when you’re with someone you can trust. You know you can rely on me. Why do you insist on going through life alone?”
Sunset remained silent. Instead of answering the question, she broke off a shard of glass from the umbrella and took it as a souvenir.
It was fine. Celestia wasn’t expecting any dialogue in the first place. Her student was smart enough to be presented with thought-provoking topics, but if it wasn’t related to her, magic, or her doing magic, she would often discard the ideas as boring. Without a solid, palpable example which would drive the message home, she had a hard time remembering the lessons Celestia was trying to deliver.
Fortunately, palpable examples were literally at the tips of their hooves.
“A single grain of sand cannot harm you,” Celestia said. “It is too small and light to pose a threat. Yet, as we have just witnessed, those innocent grains of sand can quickly become a threat when they are many, and when their greatest ally, the wind, is ready to carry them,” she added. “Consider it a metaphor. If you surround yourself with others and show readiness to both carry and be carried through the adversities of life, then there will be no stopping you. Alone, however”—she tilted her dust-ridden hoof towards the filly—“you are just this single grain.”
Celestia leveled herself with Sunset to look her in the eyes, but the other decided that a mini-dune next to her hoof required immediate and thorough smoothing.
“It’s been almost a year since you first… visited my chambers, Sunset. The world from which you’ve come taught you that distrust and setting yourself apart from others was the only way to live, but you already know it isn’t true. You have to leave your past behind, and live for your future.”
The desert metaphor must have worked—much to Celestia’s surprise, Sunset did nothing to belittle the importance of the lesson. No snorting nor eye-rolling, and not a single snarky remark was uttered. Instead, she was listening, and Celestia savored the moment. There were times in every teacher’s career when their student would slow down and reflect instead of barking a comment, or taking some kind of offense because their mentor “just wasn’t getting it”. She learned to appreciate those episodes, as they were especially rare in Sunset’s case.
“I… I’ll try, Princess,” the filly replied. “Thank you.”
“There you go.” Celestia landed a reassuring nudge on Sunset’s chest and lifted her muzzle up. The fiery temper of her stare was gone, replaced by a mixture of serene gratitude and, to some degree, hope. “Now, let’s see that pretty smile of yours. Casual visit or not, we still represent the nation of Equestria today and I do not recall allowing any village to call itself a Gloomville!”
Sunset’s reverie was gone in a snigger, but the joke, despite its plainness, had brought a short-lived smile to her face, for once genuine and not rakish.
“Let’s just go, Princess. The dryness is killing me.”
“After you, Sunset.”
Small steps, Celestia mused as she followed her student up the dune. It was the only way to mold Sunset Shimmer into a truly exceptional mare. She was skilled in the fields of both theoretical and applicable magic, in addition to possessing a wide range of somewhat questionable talents derived from her equally controversial past, but Celestia could see the greatness the filly herself was yet to discover. Of course she was always trying to see the best in a pony, but in a way, she also suspected Sunset had a role to play—a role which involved her and one of the crucial magical artifacts from Equestria’s past.
Sunset had some rough edges, of course she had them. Even her Introduction to Spellcasting teacher, old Mrs. Inkwell, had once described her as a bundle of wonderful talent dragged back by a hopeless lack of patience. Other professors reported her character as pompous, often mentioning she couldn’t back down from a fight, especially when her self-styled infallibility was on the line.
The worst thing, however, was that she didn’t establish any lasting friendships since she enrolled to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Her picture of self was built solely on personal achievements of which there were many—Celestia and the teaching staff all agreed—but she never shared her successes with her classmates, and seldom talked to anyone who wasn’t tied directly to her assignments. Indeed, there was a long way ahead of the filly, but if Celestia had anything to say, Sunset was going to get there eventually.
After climbing over a couple more dunes, the ponies arrived at their destination: a small, white-green patch sewn on the yellowish fabric of the desert.
Al-Hoofuf was a crude settlement consisting of fifty-something structures of bright limestone. With flat roofs and tiny windows, they resembled a set of blocks the sole purpose of which was to mark where the desert reigned no more. The heart of the village flourished thanks to a small lake sustaining a ring of palm trees, their leaves long and shaped like feathers, but outside the oasis’ rim vegetation was residual at best.
There was also a single street. Well, at least a local equivalent thereof, in the form of concrete slabs arranged neatly like piano keys, first running into the village, around the lake, and then out into the sands. Perhaps it wasn’t the Promenade of Canterlot, but it was definitely where the daily life was taking place. Most of the houses along the way had a stall or a workshop set up next to them, easy to dismantle and to bring inside if necessary, now filled with various goods, especially fruits and vegetables. It seemed a caravan was crossing Al-Hoofuf—judging by the shouts and the volume of sacks and boxes passed from hoof to hoof, it was either that or the village was being raided.
The villagers looked exactly like the pictures. They wore cotton scarves wrapped around their necks and most of their manes and often decorated their headdresses with silvery chains, coins or tiny bells. Those who couldn’t afford such accessories braided colorful strings of wool into their forelocks, which made them look no less nobly than their friends.
When Celestia and Sunset felt the first street slab under their hooves, the filly sat in the middle and let out a tired, overly dramatic groan which drew the attention of just about everypony. The reactions varied: some opened their mouths in disbelief, others rubbed their temples as if what they were seeing was yet another mirage, but the majority just momentarily stopped in their tracks and approached the newcomers with whatever they were carrying. They did so with genuine interest, or perhaps in the hope of striking a deal if the rugs and tools and whatnots that appeared out of nowhere were any indication.
“No, I don’t speak Sandish!” Sunset tried to explain, but the villagers kept saying incomprehensible things in their native language. “Equestrian, anyone? No, look at my lips: E-ques-trian. Or ancient Draconic, I know a couple of words. Hey, back off, sister! Princess? Don’t these ponies have a concept of personal space? Any advice?”
“A smile is a most formidable icebreaker,” Celestia replied. “Have you not read any of the orientation materials I gave you? Notice you’re being approached by fillies your age, while colts are keeping their distance, which is just one of the many unique features of a Saddle Arabian culture compared to ours. Remember why we’re here, and learn from it. Or could it be that a pony who stands against storms can’t survive her peers?”
“So is it okay if I put a shield around myself?” the filly deadpanned.
“Not every challenge can be solved with magic, Sunset. It would also be rather rude, don’t you think?”
Within the commotion surrounding them, one distinguishable voice rose above the rest.
“By the dunes! It’s Princess Celestia! Move, move!”
Celestia noticed a white turban of impressive size cruising through the crowd. Their meet-and-greet committee stepped aside and made way for a corpulent stallion whose wide, black beard was something of a reflection to his headwear. Numerous wrinkles marking his deep red coat told enough about his age, but thanks to the youthful spirit so noticeable in his stride he seemed younger than he actually was. His voice was croaky and his Equestrian fluent, but not without the heavy accent typical to a pony born and raised in Saddle Arabia.
He shushed the villagers with a wave, then leaned in a respectful bow.
“Peace be upon you, oh mighty Princess Celestia, leader of Equestria, the most amicable nation among nations!” he exclaimed. “Let your reigns be prosperous and lasting, and your visit among us fruitful. You honor us, simple ponies with your presence!”
Celestia put on a radiant expression. “Marhaba, Rashid. Lam naraka mundhu muddah.”
Murmurs of surprised appreciation went through the crowd. Rashid started at the alicorn, dumbfounded. “Hal tatakallam al-lughah al-‘arabīyah?”
“Lugha wāhidah lā takfī.”
Somepony coughed in an overt attempt to become the center of attention, and Celestia didn’t have to guess twice.
“Uh, sorry.” Sunset had a hoof at her throat and blatant innocence written all over her face. “I blame the sand, it gets everywhere. You two don’t mind me.”
Of all the reactions she could have mustered, Celestia chose to look up in the sky and leave sighs and stares of disapproval for later. Small steps—at least Sunset was still at her side and didn’t wander off in search of something to set on fire like the last time. Of course then they were lost in the cold Tramplevanian Alps, so her actions were almost reasonable. Only what followed wasn’t, and cost Celestia a great deal.
“Rashid, allow me to introduce Sunset Shimmer, a promising student at the School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot and a protégée of mine,” she said. “Sunset, meet Mayor Rashid bin Jalavi, one of the most acclaimed tailors of Saddle Arabia. We have first met in… Sheratan, was it?”
“The capital itself, indeed! Peace be upon you too, Miss Sunset.” Rashid took another deep bow, but the filly gave merely a nod. “But please, Princess, I am but a humble craftspony. I haven’t had a chance to prove myself worthy of the office just yet either, but perhaps my services as your host today will bring me one step closer towards earning both. Come along, friends, I’ll show you around!”
The tour took them quite some time, not because of the distance or their casual pace, but due to all the ponies who wanted to see the newcomers with their own eyes.
Despite Celestia’s efforts to blend in, which included swapping her usual choice of golden regalia for linen boots and headwear, as well as braiding her flowing mane, her exotic looks could not go unnoticed. She’d known she’d be making an impression, but in all honesty, she welcomed any opportunity to wear something casual for a change. She expected it to make her more approachable by the common folk. The simple desert tunic certainly worked its purpose—it seemed every mare in Al-Hoofuf had an opinion on what kind of veil would suit Celestia the most, to which she was replying with polite smiles.
Sunset had her own circle of admirers, dashing colts included after the first ice had been broken, but she wasn’t even half as patient. Those who dared to approach with a greeting or a compliment were welcomed with a stare cold enough to turn the street into a skating rink. Celestia sometimes wondered what it would take for a colt to impress a girl like Sunset. She came to a conclusion that it would first take Sunset to start paying attention to the names of her classmates, but then again, she was still before the age of becoming interested in others. Perhaps for the better.
At the edge of the lake, the palm trees they’d spotted from the distance turned out to be dates, which according to Rashid were the most resilient trees around. Smaller ones, like olives or peaches were cultivated in their shadow so they could get at least some protection from the sweltering heat.
When the three ponies were finally seated under their leaves for the same reason, as well as to get some downtime from socializing, they were swiftly served a choice of refreshing drinks, some not quite appropriate for a minor. Rashid helped himself to a milk-colored blend, while Celestia quickly shoved a cup of juice into Sunset’s hooves.
She wasn’t Sunset’s mother, but she would hate to wrong her by not taking proper care for her foal.
“Al-Hoofuf is your typical agricultural settlement,” Rashid said, dismissing the server. “There’s a total of seventy-five ponies living here, mostly earth ones. We can grow enough food to satisfy our little community’s needs, and we barter the surplus with our sister villages for what we can’t get or produce ourselves. For example, the oasis of Al-Moonram up north is a puddle compared to ours, so we’re feeding them in exchange for copper and gold from their mines. We get rolls of beautiful silversilk the same way, from Al-Mubazzar in the south.”
“What’s silversilk?” Sunset asked.
“It’s a fabric made from the cocoons of a certain breed of silkworms which can be found only in Saddle Arabia,” Rashid explained. “More durable than regular silk, with a unique shine to boot. A difficult material to work with—and that’s coming from the mouth of an old tailor, mind you—but very classy.”
“Which makes it quite pricey everywhere else.” Celestia put her cup down. “I’m delighted to hear you’re working with others in the spirit of mutual cooperation and trust,” she said, aiming for the benefit of her student. “I’m curious, is there anything you can’t obtain this way?”
“Some of the more unconventional goods, yes, but we have a solution. You see, Al-Hoofuf happens to be the middlepony between our sister villages, so every trade caravan on its way to Sheratan will rather go through us than visit all three. It results in a steady boost to our economy, and we can always count on them to get us what we need from the city.” Rashid furrowed his brow. “When trade isn’t hindered by sandstorms, that is.”
“Are they common in the region?”
Rashid took a sip and winced. “Common enough, it’s just that they aren’t usually so vicious. The ones we’ve had over the last month lasted much longer than what we’re used to, and while no harm’s been done to the village, I sometimes think they weren’t entirely… natural, if you know what I mean.”
Celestia recalled the unsettling feeling. She still couldn’t get a grasp on it, but she remembered the hate the wind was carrying along. She looked at Sunset—her magical senses perhaps weren’t as keen as her own, but the filly straightened up on her pillow as well. In the end, Rashid’s concerns only confirmed Celestia’s own. There was something sinister responsible for the recent sandstorm and likely many more before that one, something far from the ideal of harmony she believed in.
But what?
“A similar sandstorm hit us on our way here,” she said. “I’m afraid your worries may be justified, Rashid. Do you have any idea what could be the cause?”
The stallion stroked his beard. “Hmm. You’d have to learn about local beliefs first to understand my take on the matter. However, I know pantheons and religions aren’t the most popular topics these days, especially among the youth, so I’ll understand if you’re not interested in hearing such a, shall we say, lecture.”
If Celestia wasn’t someone of whom certain manners were expected, she would grin stupidly like a filly on Hearth’s Warming and laugh out loud for the entire village to hear. Instead, she just smiled delicately, playful sparks in her eyes as she exchanged glances with Sunset. The filly must have realized what was about to happen as she choked on her juice, looking not in the least content with her mentor’s devious plan.
“But we’d love to learn more about your culture, spiritual matters included!” Celestia assured. “It’s the reason we’re here, actually. Sunset Shimmer had something of a disagreement with one of her teachers regarding the benefits coming from studying foreign cultures. I took the liberty of extending her course beyond Canterlot so she could accompany me during my travels and experience those cultures by herself.”
Somewhere in between coughs, a single word could be heard. “Punishment.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“N-nothing!”
“Ah. I could have sworn someone was asking for extra homework.”
“Wasn’t me!”
Rashid chuckled at their banter.
“Ease the frown, Miss Sunset! As the saying goes, what is learned in youth is carved in stone. I’m sure in a few years’ time you’ll look back to this day and appreciate the educational torment through which your esteemed teacher is putting you. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even think fondly of my babbling?” he said, but Sunset didn’t seem convinced. “Now, I should probably start by telling you about the Dune Goddess.”
“Goddess?” Celestia and Sunset echoed.
Rashid smiled in a mysterious way. “Yes. She is the guardian of these lands, and sand and wind alike are obedient to her will. She was here before we tamed the desert, and she will remain long after the desert swallows what will be left of us.”
“I understand she is considered a benevolent deity?” Celestia asked.
“Indeed she is. She spreads her blessing over our caravans and protects them from dangers lurking in the wilderness, like beasts or raiders. Sandstorms too, and before you ask, the recent ones are all part of her greater plan according to our preachers. These latest conditions are not a punishment, but a way of testing our resolve. If we prove our worth, the Dune Goddess will extend her graces over our village for the next season, so we can trade, harvest, and live in peace and prosperity.”
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “And you believe that?”
“Sunset!”
“No, no, it’s quite alright,” Rashid said. “But please don’t say such things too loud. You see, what I just told you is the belief I’m kind of obliged to follow as the appointed leader of Al-Hoofuf, you understand. Being a pony who did not grow up in a religious community like this one myself, however…”
He hesitated, but Celestia gave him a slight nod. “Please, do go on.”
“No deity would put Al-Hoofuf on such a trial,” he hissed angrily. “Especially not the one which had been taking care for generations of ponies before us. The preachers will never admit that, but one day we may very well wake up with sand in our eyes, throats, and cups of arak. Buried alive in the desert.”
Rashid looked around to make sure nopony was listening. He beckoned at the mares to get closer, leaned over the table, and his academic tone morphed into a whisper.
“Kalila, our caravan guide, took a shortcut as she was returning late from Al-Moonram three days ago. She went by the temple of the Dune Goddess, a point of interest not far from here. We didn’t build it and we don’t know who did, which is why we don’t usually get close to it because it’s considered a sacred place,” Rashid said. “Kalila did. When she returned pale as a sheet, she told me she heard a dreadful wailing coming from the temple. She said she saw something… something she could not put into words. She and I may be earth ponies, Princess, but we can recognize foul and powerful magic when it’s harming us.”
Sunset’s ears perked up. “If there’s powerful magic involved we should definitely check it out! Princess?”
Celestia considered her options. Saddle Arabia wasn’t her principality, so meddling with the matters of Al-Hoofuf could lead to a diplomatic faux pas. More importantly, she wasn’t here on official terms so there was only so much she could do as a tourist—which was exactly how she’d worded the purpose of her visit in the letter to the Saddle Arabian monarchy. On the other hoof, she cared deeply for all the creatures, big and tiny alike, and all the ponies, Equestrian or otherwise, so there was no way she was going to just let it slide.
Throughout her long life she had seen nations rise and fall, kings and queens crowned and buried, but she was yet to meet an actual deity. It could be interesting.
“We’ll be happy to investigate it for you, Rashid,” she agreed. “Consider us humble tourists… if you know what I mean.”
“Tourists, huh? I can go with that.” Rashid straightened up and so did the mares, letting the atmosphere of secrecy dissolve. “The temple is a little less than an hour with good conditions. Head north, its silver dome is impossible to miss,” he said, then looked over Celestia’s back and rolled his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry, Princess. It seems my son and his friends are up to no good yet again. Today’s a trade day, so everything has to go smoothly.”
“Don’t let us keep you from your duties, mayor. Thank you,” Celestia replied.
Rashid took a deep bow. “No, Princess. Thank you. I’ll leave you to your studies now, but you are welcome to stay at my little kasbah when you return.” He trotted away towards a group of young colts, his turban bobbing left and right. “Matha taf’al, Zaeer? Yakfi!”
Sunset shuffled her hooves in excitement. “This trip just got so much better! We’ll check out temple, kick the evil’s flank, learn new and powerful magic, and then we’ll come back here to get us some souvenirs!”
Celestia blinked, unused to seeing her student so exuberant. “Souvenirs? No, I don’t think so. Definitely not after what you pulled off in Tramplevania.”
“Oh.” Struck with realization, Sunset stopped her joyous bouncing dead. She rubbed her neck. “Uh, I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”
“How are they, anyway? Fine, friendly and fluffy, I shall hope?”
“We’re getting along,” Sunset murmured, embarrassed to no end.
Celestia’s smirk spoke volumes. Stealing Sunset’s weekends for their trips brought them closer, and if there was anything she could say about her student for sure, it was that she was consistently finding new ways of surprising her. Sometimes she excelled in a spell she shouldn’t have a grasp on yet, or showed critical thinking over a piece of material that should be too complex for a pony her age.
There were also times where her rambunctious attitude would lead her into spending a percentage of the Equestrian treasury to acquire a herd of Tramplevanian alpacas. It could happen to anyone in the world, really, but it happened to Sunset. And to think that she thought of their grooming and shearing sessions as a punishment.
With their water supplies refilled, the ponies headed out back into the desert.
At first glance, the temple was an enlarged and beautified version of an Al-Hoofuf house. Shaped similarly after a cube but devoid of windows, it had a silver dome which shined like the glass umbrella Celestia’s conjuration had left in the desert. Examining the facade revealed the walls were covered with tiny ceramic tiles which weaved geometrical motifs in blue, gray and silver. The shapes were arranged with unparalleled regularity, never once breaking the set pattern.
The ponies went around the temple in search of a potential entrance, but each side looked exactly the same: twelve horseshoe-shaped arches of white marble, grouped in threes along the edges. They gave the impression of paperclips digging into a folder, or sharks jumping out from the sand, and the outermost ones also interlocked with their vertical neighbors. That left Celestia and Sunset with the middle ones as likely ways in—provided of course the designer followed any kind of logic.
“Let’s try this one.” Celestia slid her hoof down the ornamented wall. “I can feel the wind here, all the way to the bottom. Interesting. I would expect those slabs to be two halves of a door, but I can’t see any handles or knobs. Maybe there’s a button somewhere, or a lever? I hope we won’t have to try pressing each and every one of those tiles to get in.”
“You say it’s a door, I say we blow it up,” Sunset proposed as her horn lightened up. “Stand back!”
“What did we say about solving our problems with magic?” Celestia asked calmly, but only resumed her search when the filly released the arcane energy without casting a spell. “Patience. We’ve been here for five minutes, and just compare it to the time archeologist are spending on researching old buildings like that. Sometimes they take weeks before entering.”
“Well, we don’t have weeks. Some of us have school on Monday. And homework.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll write you an excuse letter.”
Sunset shook her head. “I’m serious. You know they don’t work on Professor Inkwell. The last time I presented her with one, she gave me an extra extra essay to write.”
Celestia had been tapping the tiles on various heights for some time now, but it wasn’t until she found a weird bulge when she decided that writing a letter would not be necessary. The bulge was a tarnished, medallion-shaped plate hidden in the rich design.
“What’s this, I wonder? It looks like it can be pressed.” She pushed the medallion inwards, and it clicked, disappeared in the wall and returned a different medallion with a small hole in it. “A keyhole, perhaps? How peculiar. Saddle Arabians weren’t using such intricate mechanisms by the time this place was likely constructed.”
“Mayor Rashid said he doesn’t know who built it.”
“I don’t have the answer either,” Celestia said. “If those are the doors, I’d rather not have to force our way through, it’s a beautiful monument in itself, but I doubt anyone from the village has a matching key, which means—”
Celestia bit her tongue, remembering the circumstances under which she met her student. It was like a flashback, a series of frames which told a story: Canterlot, deep of the night. A filly sneaking in, borrowing a magical egg. The hatching of a phoenix and some extraordinary magic. A mysterious mare sporting the same scarlet mane, and mutual vows exchanged between the princess of a nation and the princess of thieves.
“Yes!” Sunset roared with the silliest expression, drawing the alicorn out of her reverie. “I’m on the job, Princess!”
She unrolled a bundle containing at least fifteen different picks and wrenches. The set was neat and nothing short of professional, and although Sunset wasn’t a certified locksmith, or any kind of locksmith to begin with, she knew very well how to put such tools to good use. Aside from magic and getting better, limited in number as they were, she had other hobbies—some would say a trained profession—which happened to deal with locked objects on a daily, or rather nightly, basis. She inspected the hole in the medallion, carefully selected two picks and grabbed them with a drop of magic.
“I know you don’t exactly approve my approach, Princess, but I think we can all agree it’s reliable and fast,” Sunset said while tinkering with the lock. “It won’t take long. A couple of minutes, tops. Unless, of course, this is one of those anti-magic locks which repositions its pins and tumblers whenever there’s arcane energy involved. Then it will take slightly longer… just a couple of hours.”
“You are, of course, aware we don’t have that much time, Sunset. Leaving Canterlot every once in a while is good vacation, but there are matters I still need to attend to.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll write you an excuse letter!”
“Oh!” Celestia giggled. “I’ve walked straight into that one, haven’t I?”
“You have, Princess,” Sunset replied, throwing her a grin. She had a pick clasped between her teeth, with another darting out from the bundle into the keyhole. “Anyway, this is an interesting case. It’s more complex than what you usually see in Equestria, but the basic principle is the same. Hold on. Come on, you little… I mean, I can’t unlearn what I have learned, right? And you always say we should be making the best of our skills and natural talents. So, I’m doing just that. Aha! I have you now!”
Sunset turned the picks ninety degrees. The medallion flipped again, this time triggering a ringing cascade of clicks and ticks inside the wall. The two slabs moved to the sides while the third behind them sunk into the floor, creating a threshold tall enough to keep the sand from pouring in. The opening remained wide enough for visitors to cross, regardless if they were the height of a regular pony, an alicorn, or someone even taller.
On the other side—a dark corridor.
“Be on your guard. Whatever dwells in here may have the power over sand and wind, and is likely responsible for the recent sandstorm.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Thanks for clearing it up for me, Princess. I’ve always thought that sand and wind make blizzards.”
Celestia conjured a glowstar, a magical sun of sorts, and pushed it forward to illuminate the path. The temple interior advertised itself with a plethora of smells varying from plain antiquity to dried oils and ointments. There was also a hint of grease in the cold air. The ponies shuddered at the sudden change in temperature, which felt low even for an isolated structure like this one, but they continued down the vestibule and soon found themselves in a much spacious place. The glowstar shot to the ceiling, lighting a chamber unlike any they had ever seen.
Thirteen columns shaped in the likeness of pendulums rose from the floor. They were slightly inclined towards the middle and served as support for the silver dome, in addition to holding a layer of triangular glass panels right underneath it. At the base of every column was a trench filled with cogs—the greasy smell was coming from those—which judging by the arrangement was a mechanism of straightening the columns up and moving them closer to the center.
There were more cogs lodged into the walls. Going up, even the columns were cut by similar platform-like gears on various heights which ascended around the chamber at regular intervals. Some of the platforms were horizontal, other vertical, but the majority were connected to the walls with hooked chains made of bronze or some such material, piecing together a grand, intricate arrangement. However, there was no movement to any of its supposed parts.
Dead silence ruled over the chamber.
“Now I know how a cuckoo from a cuckoo clock feels.” Sunset’s voice bounced off the walls. “What is this place? I know I’m hardly an expert on foreign architecture, but even I can tell this wasn’t built by the local ponies.”
“I don’t think it was built by ponies at all.”
Celestia had seen a lot of what the world had to offer, so her claim was that much easier to back up considering a bronze sculpture placed at the centermost point of the temple, as far from the columns as the columns stood from the walls. It didn’t match any of the artistic styles utilized by the ponies over the last millennium, and neither was it the work of dragons, griffons or Nephrite Jackals, to name those who had had a presence in those lands at some point. It was difficult to not mistake it for a bundle of useless salvage at first, but a closer look at the tangle of tubes and chains confirmed that they were not arranged in a random fashion. Like serpents slithering out from their lairs, the sculpture seemed to grow from the lower levels of the temple, if there were any.
Sunset knocked at one of the tubes. It replied with an empty echo of a long abandoned installation. “Huh. Looks like a fountain to me, or some kind of a wind instrument,” she said. “Either way, it’s pretty. I bet high society ponies of the Canterlot Elite would pay a high price for such a piece. Do you think this Dune Goddess will mind if we dismantle it and—”
“Shush! Can you feel it?”
“Opportunity to fix my dent in the treasury, yes,” she said, but her face became serious when the glowstar flickered, as if to warn them. “Uh-oh. You’re nervous. I’ll better go make some use of all that metal stuff laying around.”
“Nervous, why? What makes you think so?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sunset replied nonchalantly. “I suppose I’ve been studying under your wing for so long that I learned to pick up on such things,” she chuckled.
Celestia’s confusion was gone when she realized she’d extended her wing over the filly and had her locked in a tight grasp. A shade of red warmed her cheeks, and she folded her wing. She made a promise she’d keep Sunset safe no matter the cost, but it sometimes took effort to not end up looking overprotective.
“Ah, forgive me,” she said. “Suit yourself as you see fit, but let us try to reason with her first.”
“Yeah. Like that ever works.”
Streams of blackened sand spurted from the tubes, flooding the floor with rapidly growing dunes. Out of the largest, in a spot where the strongest streams intersected, a shape started to emerge, first shooting up its fingers, then a wrist, arm, and the rest that unearthed itself into a tall, feminine form.
The alien was not shaped after a pony. She had four skinny arms but no legs, with the lower half of her body wrapped in bursting, ethereal smoke. From the waist up she wore a tattered bodice that covered most of her ashen torso, and a scarf banded tightly around her neck and mouth, up to her eyes glowing with hatred. She had no hair, but on her head rested a wicked crown made of rusty chains, wheels and cogs. Finally, a scythe materialized in her hands. It was a work of art impressive in both size and appearance, but the inky miasma dripping from the tip of the blade suggested it was a dangerous weapon most of all.
A voice resounded in Celestia’s head. It was a chorus of whispers in the middle of taking a breath, delivering in a hundred different timbres and tonalities.
You have made a grave mistake by coming here on your own, equine.
“It has been quite some time since I had a pleasure of speaking to a jinn,” the alicorn replied calmly. “I am Celestia of Canterlot. I come here on behalf of the ponies of Al-Hoofuf and its sister villages of Al-Moonram and Al-Mubazzar. Are you the one they call the Dune Goddess?”
She is no more. She has already succumbed to my will, and soon, so shall you.
The jinn shrieked a bloodcurdling wail to solidify the threat. The ensuing echo was yet to subside when she threw herself at Celestia, making full use of her arms to alter the angles at which the scythe was cutting. An overhead slash, twist behind her back, then an undercut. She was quickly gaining more and more ground as she pressed on, but her assault driven by blind rage kept scarring the floor rather than the alicorn, black sparks shooting from the blade.
Celestia had to agree with Sunset. There would be no reasoning with this one, only brute force in the face of which she could only pull back.
Through graceful skips and dodges she led the jinn away from the fountain, up to the ring of columns where she would bring her own magic into the fight. Perhaps she didn’t know every single spell in existence—and many unique branches of magic had been forgotten over the centuries—but her favored domains of light and fire had always been more than adequate response to any danger. Over one thousand years of experience in spellcasting would not go in vain.
With a powerful blast of her wings Celestia pushed the jinn back, creating the distance she needed, then reached out into the streams of magic. Her horn shimmered and the arcane energy willfully gathered around her widespread wings, shielding them with a golden, armor-like field. She charged straight at her adversary, who responded alike and rushed towards her, twirling the scythe as they were about to clash. The blade fell upon the alicorn, but bounced off her wing as Celestia ran forth unharmed. She took a sharp turn and galloped again. The jinn went for a horizontal slash and stroke, but was yet again deflected. Just before they would joust for the third time, with the jinn sacrificing the steadiness of her grip in favor of reach, Celestia’s horn glowed.
Spellcasting was like any other skill. With enough training, imposing certain patterns on the arcane field was becoming a second nature, which allowed to create multiple magical outcomes within a single window of opportunity. As Celestia was drawing near, the air around her crackled, and she disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. The smoke condensed itself into a ball which rolled towards the jinn and exploded with a blinding flash. At the same time, Celestia reappeared behind the jinn as if she had been galloping from the opposite direction all along. She employed her momentum to slide, seize the scythe and tear it out of its confused owner’s hands.
Celestia crushed the shaft in her wing and scattered the pieces around. The blade she tossed into one of the dark trenches where it got jammed between the cogs.
“We do not need to fight any longer, spirit,” she declared. “Release the Dune Goddess, and you will be free to go in peace.”
The jinn wailed again.
There can be no peace between the two of us. You, and everything you hold dear shall wither!
Celestia shook her head in silence. Her saddened face gave way to a stern gaze.
“If hatred is the only language you speak, then so be it. Know that I feel truly sorry for you.” She took an almost imperceptible glance to the side. “Now!”
Sunset emerged from the shadows and jerked the jinn by the scarf. The creature could not be brought to her knees, but the sudden loss of balance sufficed to bring in the armory. What followed was an overwhelming flurry of cogs, hooks and chains shooting out from behind the columns. They were guided by a cyan grip, but with so many pieces of metal flying around, Sunset had once again bitten more than she could chew, and was forced to improvise. Her magic couldn’t nail the position for some of the chains—instead, she grabbed them herself and danced around the stupefied entity, binding her in an inescapable net.
Celestia took care of the remaining few hooks and cogs, and weighted the jinn even more while Sunset was giving some finishing touches. She had to admit, the filly was a nimble one, especially for someone who had never played hopscotch or jumpsies or any other kindergarten game in her life.
“Not bad!” Sunset said with a triumphant smirk. “Now talk! What have you done with the Dune Goddess?”
Deprived of her weapon of choice, chained to the floor and overburdened with a pile of spare parts for a giant clock, the jinn posed no threat.
Celestia looked down at her. “My patience is wearing thin. I command you to leave her alone and never come back!”
Softly at first but then with more confidence, the jinn cackled and the ground trembled. By the time she burst into maniacal laughter, the sculpture exploded sending bits of bronze in all directions. Celestia shielded herself with her wing while Sunset took advantage of her small form and ducked. Like a geyser, the crack in the floor erupted with an unending stream of sand, which instead of littering the floor gathered over the jinn and enveloped her with a gradually amassing cloud of swirling dust.
Foals! Did you really think that these would stop me?
“Princess, I think we’ve got ourselves another sand—whoa!”
“Sunset!”
The storm expanded, lashing gusts of wind at Celestia while the dark silhouette crept out from within, launched Sunset into the air and took her flying. Only her goggles remained, but they were slowly sliding down the roaring wind towards a nearby trench.
Celestia had to act, and fast. She teleported the goggles to her face and tried to take off, but the sheer pressure to her magically enhanced wings was too great. Instead, she pushed away from the column and steered in hope of getting to the wall, but her attempts to stick to it were in vain. The storm filled the entire chamber and was sucking her in. She tried to not think what the little filly was going through right now.
She recalled how the columns were constructed and decided to use the wind force to her advantage—she turned her face away from the flow, let the storm take her closer, and hugged a protruding platform-like cog.
With every passing second the chamber grew dimmer. Celestia couldn’t spot the glowstar she had placed on the ceiling, nor the ceiling itself, but she came up with a plan to win this fight. It involved getting Sunset first, and getting as high as possible second. Using the light from her wings, as well as faint cyan darts shooting from the storm for reference, she jumped towards the next column and the next platform, following something of a clockwork path. Sand and debris whipping her back made the climb a pain, but despite it, she strove.
She heard a cry drowning somewhere within the storm.
“—ncess, hel—”
“Hold on, Sunset, I’m coming!”
Celestia caught a glimpse of yellow and red struggling against the jinn, but she lost them a moment later. Keeping track of the filly orbiting the chamber wasn’t easy even with the goggles, but there was certainly a regularity at which she was coming around for another lap. Celestia ended up on a high enough ground to see the shine of the glowstar as well—and the glass panels for which she silently cursed the designer. She couldn’t risk it when Sunset was still trapped in the storm.
She moved to the leeward side of the column and looked down. Where the floor was supposed to be she saw a sea of furious particles that filled the temple to the brim, which meant she was going to only have one shot at this. She had to time it right. She waited for the yellow-red streak to come around. It was either nailing it, or facing her demise within the raging storm.
She jumped.
The fall was brief and concluded with a slam, luckily of the right kind. Celestia assessed the situation. Sunset, her teeth and eyes clenched shut, was punching and kicking blind to liberate herself from the jinn’s grasp, but the adversary held her firm throughout their nauseating spin. The alicorn’s own mass only accelerated them, and for a short while they all whirled as one, wiggling in the tangle of their limbs to gain what little control they could. The jinn had the upper hand at first, but five good bucks to her face and chest put an end to the struggle.
Shrieking angrily, she drifted into the wall while Celestia—with Sunset clinging to her neck—was flung onto a collision course with a column. It turned out to be hollow, though she learned it the hard way, taught by a not-so-right kind of a slam. A hurtful jolt surged across her body. The impact took her breath and threw Sunset off her back, and though she managed to catch her none too soon, there was no way she could hold her and stay on the column herself.
Celestia looked up. The glowstar was still alight, but the weakened jinn was slowly moving towards it, and that didn’t bode well.
“I’m slipping!” Sunset screamed. “Help!”
“There’s a cog by the next column, I’ll throw you there, you stay clear from the middle!”
“What? It’s pitch black out there! You can’t aim it!”
“I can!” Celestia shouted back. “You have to trust me!”
The wind was swinging Sunset like a rag doll when her and Celestia’s eyes met. The two ponies shared a second of wordless understanding, a silent agreement within the ravaging sandstorm, momentarily finding themselves in their little place of serenity which protected them better than a shield of a thousand layers. The student nodded, entrusting her doubts, fears and her very fate into her teacher’s capable hooves.
In the end, she was the only pony she could truly rely on.
“Do it!” Sunset yelled.
Celestia threw her into darkness, curving slightly outwards to compensate for the storm’s pull. She heard a short yelp and the unmistakable sound of a pony thudding at something, but it wasn’t enough to say on what, or even if at all Sunset had landed. Doubt and a hundred questions invaded her mind. Was her student alright? Did she make the right call? Sunset was probably exhausted, could she still protect herself if something went wrong?
Ending the fight now was the best course of action, and Celestia would not allow fear stop her. She climbed to the windward side and shaped a complex conjuration. One arcane thread at a time, the mist framed itself into a bird with a sharp, hooked beak and elegant crest. He turned vivid crimson and glimmered with bright white points along his translucent body which brought to mind a constellation. Finally, a yellow star branded his forehead.
According to the legends, stars themselves had once descended from up high as they took interest in the ground beneath them. Some were benign to the earth-dwellers, others malicious, but in the end they all returned to the night sky where they belonged. What remained were their aspects, physical embodiments of their magic known as celestials. They were a rare sight and always resembled animals, like the fabled ursas resembled bears, but only a handful knew how to harness their power.
“Be swift, my friend,” Celestia said. “Bring down the sun for me.”
The celestial phoenix squeaked and darted to the glowstar, drawing a trail of light between himself and Celestia’s horn. He cut through the sandstorm with ease, spiraled around the jinn and wrapped her, then shot up and disappeared behind the curtain of sand. The jinn cried out, now more in despair than anger.
“Eyes!” Celestia called at the top of her lungs.
The glowstar wasn’t just a fancy lantern to illuminate the chamber. From the moment Celestia placed it on the ceiling, it was gathering ambient magic like a nexus. When the phoenix poured himself and his energy into it, and the shining connection linked the alicorn and the glowstar, the magical feedback paralyzed the jinn and send her down falling.
The glowstar exploded, radiating its force across the temple with a blinding glow which shattered the glass panels and tore a hole in the silver dome. The accompanying wave of pleasant warmth washed over the chamber affecting everything in its wake. The wind was silenced, the streams ceased to flow, and the sand particles stopped its furious dance as they were turned into glass powder.
Celestia landed violently where the jinn had crashed. The overflow of arcane energy from the glowstar blazed through her with a somewhat spectacular side effect—the magic flowing to the tips of her multicolored mane caused her braid to unleash itself from its original configuration and ignore gravity more than it usually did. She was surrounded by a brilliant, fiery halo, and her appearance, perhaps save for the clothing, was that of an Equestrian Princess—formidable, imperious, and royal.
Celestia dug the jinn up and pressed a hoof hard to her chest.
“Vile creature. You took over the jinn and fed her with malevolence and spite. You used her to threaten the villagers with sandstorms. You tried to hurt my student. Give me one reason I should not cast you out of this realm this instant.”
Despite the scarf covering her mouth, the jinn clearly grinned. She spoke in a different voice than before, the choir converging into a single, nightmarish source.
Because you already have.
Celestia’s eyes grew wide as she realized the terrifying truth. The presence she felt during the first sandstorm, the dark spirit which took over the jinn, it wasn’t just old. It was as ancient as it was evil. It was the same darkness which she had to face over nine hundred years ago, which she refused to vanquish once and for all but instead locked up with the power of the Elements of Harmony.
“This cannot be,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
You may have bested me this time, but the longest day of the thousandth year is drawing near. The stars will aid in my escape and I will bring everlasting night as it has been foretold. You, and all your precious ponies will submit to the nightmare. There is nothing you can do about it, and there is not a single pony who could stand in my way.
Celestia’s thoughts went to her student, but she shook them off.
“I will think of something.”
The ashen tar evaporated, turned into a mist and fled through the dome.
We shall see. Until next time… sister.
The jinn’s true look was revealed: crystalline turquoise skin and a pair of yellow eyes which shined with curiosity. She was still bald, though notably she lost her crown during the fight. What little clothes she wore were now white, and the lower part of her body was not smoke, but like a soft sea foam instead.
“Hey, I found it! I found my stuff!” Sunset’s excited voice came from behind a nearby dune. She grabbed her saddlebag and slid downhill, and though she seemed winded, she maintained her usual daredevil posture. “Is it over? Did we win? Also, you could have gotten me down first, Princess. Just a thought. Oh! Hello, glowy person!”
The jinn took a while to investigate her surroundings. She gave the ponies a prolonged, cautious look, but eventually got back up and loosened her scarf. Its ends defined gravity, which combined with her inscrutable smile only added to the aura of mystery surrounding her.
“Sevenfold thanks to you, quadruped of four manes and four eyes,” she spoke in a melodious voice resembling a morning breeze.
For the first time since entering the temple, Celestia felt serenity. She returned the goggles—apparently, her other two eyes—to Sunset.
“Are you the one they call the Dune Goddess?”
“The conjunction of these two words equals nil, for there was a quantity of similar before her,” the jinn replied as her scarf waved its own negative. “She is no goddess as you quadrupeds understand it. She will identify herself as Union, the Fifth Axiom from the City of Infinite Fountains. Speak quick, for she cannot maintain the continuity of this form for long.”
“I am Celestia of Canterlot, and this is my student, Sunset Shimmer. We heard there was a struggle between you and the forces of darkness, and we’ve come to aid you.”
“Your assumption was correct, Celestia of Canterlot, and your assistance appreciated,” Union replied. “Eighteen sunrises ago, on the eighth day of the seventh month, the one messenger of the night invaded her dreams. She encountered zero such spirits before.” Something of a shame appeared on her face. “She was intrigued… but she was wrong. Her curiosity was a fallacy. She promises to be ready should it ever come again.”
“What’s her deal with numbers?” Sunset whispered to Celestia. “And talking in third person?”
“We’re here to study foreign cultures, aren’t we? The key to communication is sharing a language,” Celestia replied, then turned back to Union. “The two of us sought you to inquire about the fate of the seventy-five living in the one village south from here. Since the eighth day, they had faced a… a quantity of sandstorms.”
Union looked crestfallen. “She contradicted her one task of guarding these lands when she accepted the offer from the one messenger of the night,” she replied. “Negating the offer should have been her solution. She never wished for the existence of causality between her actions and the harm to the quadrupeds.”
“Will you… uh, will she continue your… her… one task now?” Sunset said, trying very hard to sound proper.
“You helped her. The seventy-five shall not be harmed, and the union shall continue,” she said. “She must leave now. The sand and wind are calling her.”
“I have but one more question,” Celestia said as the jinn turned away. “The last time I met one of your kind he claimed to be the last of the jinn.”
Union glanced back and wrapped her scarf around her face, concealing an amused smile. Her form partially dissolved, but she turned around. “She is, too, the last of the jinn,” she said, joining her four arms in what looked like a gesture of respect to which Celestia and Sunset responded with bows of their own. After that she disappeared, a breeze of unknown origin taking her silhouette away.
The otherworldly serenity was gone from the temple too, but so was the uneasy silence that greeted them earlier. Celestia took a well-deserved sigh of relief and looked around. The hole overhead was letting a solitary ray of sunshine on the sad remnants of the once beautiful sculpture, now buried beneath broken chains, bent cogs and an awful lot of sand. The wicked disarray didn’t feel Celestia with much glee, but the light that still shined certainly did.
“So, anyway, that happened,” Sunset said. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to have us clean this mess now. Please.”
“I feel we should”—Celestia giggled at the terror in her student’s eyes—“but I don’t think that doing that kind of chores would be a valid excuse for not having your homework done. Or for not showing up on the throne, either,” she added. “I have a proposition. What would you say we took the rest of the day off? I think it would be quite impolite to not accept the invitation and—Sunset? Hello?”
The filly was already halfway towards the exit. Celestia gave the mess one more brief look, shrugged, and followed her student’s example.
Before long the ponies found themselves way outside at the top of a dune.
“What are we going to tell Mayor Rashid, Princess?” Sunset asked. “That he was right, that their preachers were wrong, that their goddess is no goddess at all?”
“No.” Celestia shook her head. “We must not mention Union’s—mention the Dune Goddess’ true form, especially not that she was under the influence of this mysterious… messenger of the night, to use her own words.”
“But why? She said it herself she wasn’t a goddess. Do you want them to believe in someone who isn’t even a real deity?”
“In the end, it doesn’t matter whether someone’s god or goddess is real or not,” Celestia replied. “What matters is their faith, which is most certainly real, and has been nurtured by generations before them. Part of studying other cultures is approaching them with respect,” she added. “Ponies, in their nature, have bodies and minds, but they also have souls, thus having spiritual needs.”
Celestia noticed Sunset pondering her words a longer moment. At first she attributed it to her student’s outlook on life which didn’t involve such complex categories, but she could see Sunset challenging herself to understand. Celestia gave her time as they both gazed at the temple below.
“There are ponies in Equestria who consider you a goddess, you know,” Sunset admitted. “Wait, I know you don’t like to be seen as such. It’s just you’re so much different from the rest of us. I mean, you’re an alicorn, and Union was a jinn. You both shape the world of those living nearby, and the chances of casually bumping into you on the street are pretty slim, if you know what I mean. It’s just, uh, it’s just that…”
“Is there something you’d like to ask, Sunset?”
“Are there even gods, Princess?”
Celestia allowed herself a smile no less quizzical than that of the jinn. Union must have seen her share of extraordinary phenomena too, and her kind was indeed a sight to behold: powerful, mysterious entities that insisted on separating themselves from the common folk. For whatever reason, though, they intended to guard the ponies, and Celestia didn’t feel the need of questioning it. She threw a glance at the temple, then up to the skies, but in the end she wasn’t looking anywhere in particular.
“That, my student, is a question worth seeking answers to.”
The bell by the door jingled happily when Celestia and Sunset entered the workshop.
“By the dunes!” Rashid grabbed his turban in surprise. “What’s happened to you two?”
The ponies looked upon each other, smirking at the hopelessness of each other’s appearance. Celestia’s flowing mane was an absolute mess: the pinks were clashing with the blues over her forehead, ceruleans stood up straight like horns, and turquoises decided it would be best to just wave downwards like tentacles. The alicorn lost one of her linen boots, though she wasn’t certain whether it happened during the fight with the jinn or did she just get a little careless on their way back.
Sunset looked no better. She was equally banged up and kept turning her head to the sides to remove the excess of sand from her ears. The bruises caused by ramming into, of getting assaulted by various bronze objects were numerous, much like in her mentor’s case, but she was still standing. She dropped her bag before slumping down a little, and the impression she gave was that of being ready to explore anew if asked.
Celestia and Sunset were also, for want of a better word, dirty—dusted from the tips of their hooves to the tops of their foreheads, with their coats in a desperate need of a good grooming. Despite all that, however, they returned to Al-Hoofuf as victors, if somewhat tired from their adventure.
“We are quite alright, Rashid, thank you for your concern,” Celestia said. “As good tourists, we acquainted ourselves with local architecture, and just when we gazed upon the facade, it occurred to us that your village’s devotion to the Dune Goddess is not misplaced… if you know what I mean,” she added.
Sunset leaned in. “Translation: job done, your ponies are safe now.”
“B-but what happened? What did you do?” he asked, but immediately dismissed his inquiry. “On second thought, the less I know about it the better. I couldn’t sleep after Kalila told me her story and, judging by your looks, I’d stay awake for a week if I heard one word about the things you faced. Foul and powerful magic, am I right?”
“You have no idea,” the filly replied.
“All I can say then is thank you, both for sparing me the details… and for that other thing.” Rashid clapped his hooves. “The return of my two Equestrian friends, this calls for a celebration! Let me just fetch my wife so she could prepare a feast in honor of your success. As for myself, I know there is no way I can express my gratitude as you deserve it, but we’ve just received these two rolls of silversilk,” he said, pointing to the iridescent material on the counter. “Perhaps I can get you a fine garment? Free of cost! Princess?”
“There is no need for that, really. Sunset and I are most—”
“I could use a cloak.”
Celestia’s smile was gone, replaced by a serious glare, but apparently her student didn’t see what the problem was, responding with a voiceless “what?”.
“Please excuse us for a moment,” Celestia said to the stallion. He trotted to another room, looking back and bowing every two steps while mumbling something about his measuring tape. “Sunset Shimmer. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean, Princess? Mayor Rashid clearly wants to repay us for what we did at the temple,” Sunset replied. “I didn’t exactly get my three wishes from the you-know-who, so I thought we could pick up some nice clothes while we’re here. You know, souvenirs. We deserve it.”
“Have you learned nothing from our stay here? Silversilk is an important trade good for those ponies, so if they devote it to your selfish needs, they will lose a substantial part of their revenue, thus limiting the growth of their community,” Celestia lectured the filly. “They may be safe from sandstorms now, true, but what if another threat arises? This isn’t Canterlot, Sunset, this is a poor village in the middle of a desert which needs every source of income it can get to break even.”
“But they can profit from foodstuff even more now that the Dune Goddess will keep them safe,” Sunset protested. “It’s not like I’m stealing from them, right? Rashid said it himself: they barter what they have for the things they can’t get themselves, and they wouldn’t solve the sandstorm problem without our help. So, you could say that we offered our services as magical problem solvers and we’re getting our payment.”
Celestia shook her head. “We’re not mercenaries, Sunset. We’re—”
“We’re just tourists, yeah, I know,” the filly cut in. “But we’re also something else now: we are guests, and the guy in charge of this village wants to show his hospitality and gratitude. Again, I’m not an expert on the cultural aspects of the visitor-host relations in Saddle Arabia, but wouldn’t it be a bit disrespectful if we didn’t allow him to please us?”
“Huh. So you did read the orientation materials I gave you after all.”
“All thirty pages, Princess.” Sunset shrugged. “It was a good read.”
With that, Celestia lost the last of her arguments. She paced around the workshop, pretending to browse between colorful fabrics on display.
There was a cyan roll which reminded her of Sunset’s shield bubble spell. She passed her hoof along and gave a deep sigh.
She wasn’t irritated by Rashid’s generosity, or by her student’s eagerness to accept it. There was nothing wrong with either. In truth, she couldn’t get over the fact that the Nightmare dared to make its appearance so soon, or rather that she had not foreseen it. It was weak in its current state, of course, merely a whisper which she couldn’t even pick up during the sandstorm—but it was out there nonetheless, and posed a real threat to her ponies.
The reign of day was supposed to be still long enough. Celestia herself, she was supposed to still have time to prepare, but the latest events suggested she no longer had that luxury. Was it too late? Were the ponies already in danger? Union said the Nightmare had come to her in her dreams. If that was the case, she had to investigate the Dreamworld as soon as possible. It wasn’t her forte, but for the sake of her subjects she had to try.
More importantly, she had to prepare Sunset. The filly didn’t know it yet, but she was Celestia’s chosen for bearing the Element of Magic, and to make things more complicated, she was also her only choice. Ponies capable of assuming that role were a once-in-a-generation find, centuries of running a School for Gifted Unicorns proved that. Sunset aside, there probably wasn’t going to be a unicorn equally talented in magic in the coming decade. Unfortunately, Sunset was yet to comprehend the value of friendship that was essential to master the Elements of Harmony. She had to form a bond with other ponies, just like Celestia had shared a bond with her sister long ago.
Luna…
Celestia snapped out of her musing.
“—sure, that will do. Oh, can I get a hood with that? Great!” Sunset said to Rashid who was jumping around her with a measuring tape. She took notice of Celestia eyeing her and her confidence dwindled. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble. I-I just, uh, hate when sand gets into my ears. I mean, I don’t expect to run into many sandstorms back home, our storms are made of, you know, rain and snow. Occasionally ice,” she squeaked as Celestia started walking towards her. “Maybe we should just forget the hood?”
Rashid’s pride was evident. “You can relax, Miss Sunset. It will be nice to work on something more complex. I usually only sell veils and turbans!” He scribbled a batch of numbers, then turned to the alicorn. “Oh, mighty Princess Celestia, do you require a cloak for your brilliant figure as well? Or perhaps something else? Say a word and it will be done.”
Celestia didn’t want to think how many rolls it would take to tailor a cloak for her, with or without a hood.
“A cloak, no. How about… a scarf? Nothing too extravagant, mind you, maybe about… this long.” She marked the length of the shortest possible scarf in the history of scarves. “Please know that the safety and well-being of your village is our greatest reward.” She joined her hooves on her chest and bowed her head in a local show of respect while glancing to the side. “Isn’t that right, Sunset?”
Sunset quickly caught up on what the alicorn was expecting of her, and repeated the gesture.
“Always happy to help, Mayor Rashid. Al-Hoofuf is awesome.”
Later that day, Celestia and Sunset were sitting on a lovely roof terrace perfect for stargazing, their stomachs full of exotic drinks and meals. When the time came, Celestia attended to her everyday practice of setting the sun and raising the moon—she sunk the blazing ball of fire below the western horizon, and replaced it with the smaller, but equally important orb. The day had concluded, and soon pleasant chill embraced the land.
At the table, Sunset struggled to get her mane into order. She was jerking the comb, tried different angles, but was getting nowhere.
“Stupid hair… stupid comb. Why isn’t there a spell for that?” she murmured under her breath. “So, where are you taking me next, Princess?”
Celestia sat on a pillow behind her. “These are no trips, Sunset. These are lessons. You have a tendency of being a little ahead with the material your classmates are doing, which is why I’m willing to take you around Equestria and beyond. Tramplevania was first, Saddle Arabia is second, but we’re not going anywhere else unless you prove to me that you’ve learned something from this adventure.” She liberated the comb from between Sunset’s hair. “May I?”
“Go ahead,” Sunset said in defeat and allowed the alicorn to work her magic. Gently, with no jerking, and actually making progress. “Alright I learned that… that foreign cultures can be interesting. Their language is strange, but I bet that we sound strange to them too. Oh, and the temple was pretty, well, for a time at least. Also, now I get why silversilk is so pricey.” She patted a bundle next to her saddlebag. “Uh, in conclusion, I learned that even poor, forsaken desert villages may have something to offer.”
“Would that be all? I’m not impressed. Did you learn anything about yourself?”
She didn’t see it, but Celestia could easily imagine the look on the filly’s face: she must have rolled her eyes and groaned as she eventually swallowed her pride.
“I learned that I can rely on you, Princess, which I guess can extend to others as well.” Sunset turned in her chair to face the alicorn. “No matter how much magic I pour into a spell, or how much I try to win a fight on my own, I sometimes may—emphasis on may—need others to carry me when it gets rough, because, admittedly, there are storms which I can’t overcome by myself.”
Celestia nodded in delight. If at the end of each day left her student made that kind of self-discovery, she would have nothing to worry about.
“Yet,” Sunset added with a disarming smile.
Small steps, Celestia thought to herself. Small steps.
