> Cadence of the Crystal Empire
>  by Coyote de La Mancha
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Introduction: Foals and Mares.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia forced herself to focus again upon the tiresome fools before her.
No, she chided herself, that’s inappropriate. And such contempt only breeds blindness. It does nopony any good for me to judge the matter without impartiality.
Her heart sank. Not that such trivialities will matter much longer, anyway.
With a deftness granted by centuries of practice, she put the specter of Nightmare Moon aside. There were ponies whose entire lives were filled with minor, day-to-day trivialities. Small things that concerned them and brought them joy, and would never be remembered by anypony but themselves and those they loved.
It was easy to envy them. But instead, she would safeguard their joys as best she could.
Celestia glanced out the window nearby. Yet again, Twilight had wanted to attend court today. And, yet again, Celestia had said no. Royal Court was no place for a nine-year-old filly with more energy and magic than sense. 
Now, Celestia was nearing the end of yet another grueling session at court. And, as with every other day she had refused her young apprentice, she was once again questioning her resolve. For all that Twilight might be a little disruptive at first, her curiosity would have quickly given way to her disinterest in social matters, and she would probably have vanished into a book for the rest of the session.
Well, mostly.
Celestia managed a slight smile as she imagined the little filly suddenly interrupting this self-important dolt with a delighted gasp, immediately followed by a gush of newly-discovered information about some metamagical theory, or Star Swirl’s penguin migration hypothesis, or the life cycles of seventeen-year cicadas. 
“…and so,” the unicorn before her concluded, “it is as clear as the summer sun.” There were some polite chuckles throughout the court before he went on, “Any such attempt as my esteemed colleague suggests to impose greater taxes upon profits above one million bits, much less his idealized ‘maximum wage’ limitation upon the most successful among us, would not only destroy all social drive towards greatness by eliminating the promise of gaining wealth through merit, but also…”
Celestia sighed, once more watching the stallion drone on through half-lidded eyes. Ancestors before and beyond, she’d thought he was finally done! She would give anything to be hearing her excitable little apprentice talk about bugs instead of this pompous, self-important git droning on about economic theory as though it were a concept somehow new to her.
There had been a variety of modifications to the economy over the centuries, as he was no doubt aware. Strangely, what neither he nor anypony else in the room seemed to realize was that she, Celestia, was the cause of every change. Every generation, ponies managed to come up with even more complicated ideas on socioeconomic changes and the forces that drove them. But the truth was, she had simply altered the structure now and then, whenever she deemed it advisable. After all, no one system was perfect. So, as soon as one system started to break down, Equestria had simply moved on to the next. 
And, she admitted to herself, she’d likely do so again in another few years. The current system had been in place, after all, for several generations already.
But to her old eyes, it didn’t look like it was time for an overhaul quite yet. Granted, there was the threat of a mild inflation next year. But that was hardly worrysome. If all else failed, she could simply destroy a few thousand bits to balance things out. She’d make more later, should scarcity demand. 
“Your Highness? Is all well?”
The stallion was looking at her with feigned concern, having probably noticed that she was no longer even glancing in his direction. Again, she chided herself. Careless, she thought. Careless, and impatient.
And, above all, bored beyond description.
Celestia sighed again. She considered the two ponies before her, the unicorn and his earth pony counterpart. She weighed in her mind the odds that either of them had a line of reasoning she hadn’t already heard many times during her rule, and decided probably not. Granted, both gentlecolts were well-educated, well-briefed, and armed with excellent arguments well-rehearsed. The debate could easily continue, spaced among multiple sessions, for weeks. Possibly even months. And, in both their minds, no doubt it logically should.
No. Just… no.
“I have made my decision,” she said.
Both supplicants started, but were silent.
“For the time being, the current tax rate on wealth will stand.”
The unicorn bowed. “Your Highness.”
“That being said, I shall review the matter again in a few years’ time, at my discretion,” she went on. “Should I determine that, as has been suggested here today, an impoverished class is in danger of being created, I shall take whatever steps I deem necessary and appropriate to prevent such an occurrence.”
The earth pony bowed. “Your Highness.”
“I believe that is all for today. Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention, both of you.”
Both bowed, stepped back, then bowed again. “Your Highness,” they intoned. A moment later, the throne room was empty, the Princess herself gratefully exiting via a side door, her eyes watching her hooves as she walked. Ancestors before her, but she was so tired…
“Princess Ce-lestia!”
Celestia looked up to see the violet filly galloping up to her, books trailing behind her in her magic like the tail of a purple comet. A few of the hallway guards spared the foal a fond glance, but otherwise were still.
Celestia’s smile was tired, but for the first time in hours it was genuine.
Twilight screeched to a halt before her mentor, gave a quick courtly bow, and even as Celestia started to nod in response had already started in, prancing happily about as she did so:
“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, Princess Celestia, I just finished reading all about hummingbirds, and did you know there’s a bee hummingbird that weighs less than an ounce – it’s a bird, though, not a bee, of course – and even though it’s so tiny it has to eat soooooo much sugar, which is really weird because sugar doesn’t normally fuel hovering flight very well…”
“Oh,” said Celestia. She was having the strangest sensation, as if a great weight was lifting off from her withers. “Really?”
As the monarch resumed walking, Twilight continued prancing about her, saying, “Uh-huh, it doesn’t metabolize well enough. Sugar doesn’t. But aside from insects, hummingbirds have the highest metabolism of any animal, at least the ones I’ve read about. And their wings can beat over twelve hundred times a minute, while they breathe over two hundred times a minute. I think they must be able to use sugars as soon as they eat them to fuel their muscles, which would be really unusual, oxidization of sugars in muscles like that, I mean, think about it, those tiny little wings beating more than eighty beats per second…”
“Do they indeed,” Celestia smiled. In her mind’s eye, a Twilight-headed hummingbird was buzzing happily from book to book, devouring the knowledge she found there.
“Uh-huh! Some professors theorize that hummingbirds are partial thaumavores, to supplement their sugar intake. But I don’t think so. I mean, if they did that, then they wouldn’t need to sleep so deeply at night when they couldn’t eat…”
“Twilight…” Celestia interrupted gently.
“And look how pretty they are,” squeed Twilight happily. The books suddenly orbited all around Celestia, pages turning through a constantly shifting display of colorful pictures. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
“They are beautiful,” agreed Celestia. “But where is Spike? I notice he isn’t with you.”
The filly shook her head so that her mane flew. “He’s asleep. Kinda like a hummingbird in torpor.” She considered. “A dragon torpor? Do dragons torpor, hibernate, or just sleep? ‘Cuz they’re all different things. I think they sleep. Spike snores.” She nodded, then shrugged. “Anyway. He sleeps a lot.”
“Well, he is a baby dragon,” Celestia reminded her. “Maybe that’s why.”
Twilight cocked her head, thinking. “Well, maybe. But I didn’t sleep that much when I was a weanling.”
“I’m not the least bit surprised.”
“So, do you think maybe he needs more sugar? Like cookies?” A delighted gasp. “I bet dragons love cookies! And you know, I bet they’re not the only ones…!”
“Well, that is an idea,” Celestia intervened, “but we should probably make sure first. Why don’t you find a book about dragons—”
“I already read ‘em all.”
Celestia looked at the ceiling, struggling to keep a straight face. “Of course you have.”
“They mostly all say the same things anyway. Which isn’t much, really. And I think a lot of it may be wrong. Spike isn’t fierce or anything, and he likes ponies.” She frowned in thought. “We should go to the Dragon Lands and find out.” Another delighted gasp. “Princess, could we go on a field trip? Maybe we could ask—”
“No,” Celestia broke in hastily, “No, Twilight. Dragons like their privacy, and that would just make them angry. We don’t want any angry dragons, after all, do we?”
The foal looked down, disappointment making her ears and tail droop. “No…”
“But when you’re older, maybe you can find out more,” Celestia suggested. “And in the meantime, I could do with some lunch, and I imagine you could as well. Why don’t we see if Spike is awake yet, and you can tell me more about hummingbirds while we eat.”
Twilight gave a delighted gasp, and was gone in a purple trail of books.
“And don’t run through the…!” 
Celestia sighed, and then gave a helpless half-smile, shaking her head. Oh, well. She would talk to Twilight later. But first, there was lunch to order for herself and her two young charges. And a place to choose for dining. Until Twilight, she had simply taken all her meals in her chambers. But now… 
One of the balconies, she decided. Yes. That one with the winged carvings, overlooking the garden. The breeze should carry the flowers’ scents nicely, and there is water nearby.
It will be a perfect place to hear about hummingbirds.
Contented, she felt her steps becoming just a little lighter as she continued down the hall. Yes, the future might be bleak, and court was always dreary. And, certainly, the centuries were no less oppressive, staring at her with lonely eyes from past and future both. 
But for just for today, she was going to enjoy some good food, and listen to Twilight Sparkle talk about her discoveries. 





He really should have been doing his chores.
Bluebottle rolled lazily in the tall grass, watching the nest perched high up in one of the many trees that surrounded him. The great bird was fussing over her children – he’d counted only two, while she was away – and would be flying away again soon. Meanwhile, he got to watch her care for her chicks, feed them, groom them. 
He stretched happily where he lay, spreading his deep blue wings as he did so. The valley was a great place to live, for the most part. At least, the cave was. And the woods, and the meadow he was in now. And the villagers were good ponies, all of them, athough they didn’t seem to know that. He hardly ever visited the village anymore, not since he’d gotten his cutie mark. But only because they didn’t like him. 
Or Mother. 
Or each other, really. 
Mother had said it was because they were all earth ponies. Earth ponies were of land and stone, so of course they’d seem hard and cold to outsiders. He, meanwhile, she’d compared to the winds, shaking her head all the while. A wind, a breeze, a cloud floating in a zephyr. 
My son, the dreamer, she’d said.
Bluebottle was the only pegasus in the valley; his mother the only unicorn. He’d learned long ago not to ask about his father. But on his rare sojourns into the village he’d measured the older stallions there, wondering which of them might be the one.
He’d especially liked visiting the tiny library, and playing with the other foals between the round huts and shops. He’d even thought about getting a job there, taking care of some of the little ones.
But Mother had said that books were for fillies and mares, so that was out. Which was too bad, he’d liked talking to the librarian. Likewise, mares were caretakers of children and knowledge, not stallions. Stallions were meant for fighting, for providing for their families. Books, songs, rocking little weanlings… such things were not for him. 
Chewing on a buttercup thoughtfully, Bluebottle glanced down at the cut on his flank. He’d really thought that updraft would carry him over those rocks, not stall out like it had. Instead, he’d limped into their home late last night, and Mother had cut herself off in mid-lecture with an Oh, my poor child, and swept him up in her arms. 
This is your proof, she’d sighed, sorting through various bottles till she’d found the ointment she’d sought. It’s time to put away your games and childish dreams. You’re on the cusp of stallionhood now. Stop playing around, and face the realities of life.
A few minutes later, she’d been angrily dabbing the mixture onto his cut flank. He still wasn’t sure what she’d been angry at more: him, for getting hurt when he’d fallen; or the cut, for hurting him. But even while treating his cuts, she’d been impatient at his tears. 
Of course it hurts! She’d snapped. It’s medicine. Nothing good comes without pain!
He’d frowned then. That hadn’t made much sense. Then again, he knew he could be kind of stupid sometimes.
But she had only chuckled at his look and gathered him up again, suddenly kind once more. Oh, my beloved son, she’d said. Life is pain. The stars made it that way, to enjoy our torment. That’s why the strong take what they want, and punish the weak.
Then, she had looked at him, with that intent look she had when she said something important. Just remember this: pain is the price we pay for being alive. So, you take it like a stallion. 
She’d set him down again, smoothing his mane as she added, And, whenever you can, you give some back.
Thinking of the village below their cave, he’d had to admit she was likely right. The cold and cruel did seem to have more power than the kind and generous, and they certainly weren’t shy about using it. 
All the more reason, he’d felt, to not be like them. 
So, he’d tried to change the subject. Well, at least I won’t have a scar over my cutie mark, he’d offered.
But she’d snorted. It might have done you good if you had. Serve as a daily reminder. Then she gave one of her rare smiles, her eyes filled with pride. Your mark is a strong one, strongest I’ve ever seen. Small wonder, I suppose, that you’re still growing into it.
He’d frowned. What’s so strong about it?
But she hadn’t answered. She’d just stroked his mane, saying, The soil of a stallion’s heart is stonier, my son. Not much may grow there, but that’s as it should be. Then she’d stared at him with a fierce intensity, adding, For that stoniness ensures that what you do grow… will survive. 
Now, idling in the grass, Bluebottle looked back at his cutie mark: a red heart, wrapped tightly in black thorns. It wasn’t fair. Cutie marks were supposed to give answers, not ask more questions. 
Sighing, he lay down, chin between his hooves. Why couldn’t he be the colt he was supposed to be? And when it came right down to it, what kind of Stallion was he becoming?
Not a responsible one, he admitted to himself. Mother gave him enough chores to keep him busy for most of the day: cleaning the cave that was their home, tending their tiny garden, on and on. But most of the time, she didn’t seem to notice if he did his chores or not. Or, she might have just ignored it. He thought he heard her muttering something like boys will be boys at least once, shaking her head as she did the weeding. 
Still, she could switch him well enough, if she actually saw him shirking. So he played in the meadow far from the village and the garden, and he flew below the canopy of the valley’s forest so mother wouldn’t see him on her errands. 
Rolling over again, he stuck his muzzle into a group of flowers, only to have it suddenly explode into a flock of butterflies. He reared back, sneezing and laughing as the kaleidoscope of wings swirled about him and then rose into the treetops. The early evening sun was warm, the forest creatures were playing, and the air was crisp and fragrant with autumn blossoms. Nickering happily, he began wandering about, gathering them into a bouquet. There were plenty of flowers, he didn’t have to worry about stealing away the meadow’s beauty. And they’d look nice on the table, when dinner came.
Unless, of course, flowers are for fillies too. Like books and music and weanlings.
He looked around himself, at the grass, the trees, the flowers and sky. He’d spent the entire morning there, just watching a spider spin her web: a beautiful creature of black and gold, meticulously creating a home that was also a work of art. Then he’d watched the hawk family throughout the lazy afternoon, the mother constantly in flight, sheltering and loving her children. 
They certainly weren’t weak.
Of course, those were all females, he reminded himself. The soil of a stallion’s heart and blah, blah, blah. He snorted. Being a colt was stupid. From the sound of it, being a stallion was even worse.
As the sun slowly descended, Bluebottle continued his reflections, grazing on the blossoms absent-mindedly. After a while, he wove the bouquet’s remaining alyssum, sedum, and multi-colored heather into his mane. 
He’d just have to be careful to remove them, before he reached home.
> 1: Too Many Princesses.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an old legend, though not a well-known one until recently.
A usurper, with magical powers out of myth, lay siege to an empire out of legend. His enemies fell before his might as his shadow spread throughout the realm, corrupting all before it, destroying anyone and anything that dared defy his will.
Anything, save for the mind of the empire’s princess, and her love for her only foal.
With the palace’s defenses already beginning to falter, and her own powers all but spent, the monarch did the only thing she could think of. She cast a spell upon her young daughter, hurtling her into the future. It was a desperate, daring gambit, hinging upon an absolute faith that the future, whatever it might hold, would be better than the present.
Then, no doubt in final combat against her foe, Princess Radiant Hope fell.
A relatively short time later, the tyrant was faced and slain by the forces of Equestria. Detailed accounts of the battle were unavailable, having been sealed by royal decree. But it was known that King Sombra, in a last act of defiance and cruelty, cursed the entire empire to oblivion as he died. Some said it would return someday, some said it would not.
But of the filly, now a princess by royal blood, there was little doubt. For exactly one thousand years later, Princess Celestia had sent forth a royal proclamation: that anypony who could bring her the young Princess Mi Amore Anastasia Cadenza – or information leading to her safe rescue – would be granted the land, wealth, and title of knighthood, as well as the undying gratitude of the Equestrian throne…





Princess Celestia closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to retain her composure. “Child,” she said, “who put you up to this?”
The little white unicorn before her started. When she had first entered the chamber, the filly had been overcome by the splendor of its carvings. She had marveled at the beauty of its stained glass windows as they let in the morning light, filtered through their vibrant tints and renowned legends. But now, involuntarily, she glanced over her shoulder at the crowd behind her in open court, then looked back at the throne’s dais. “Your Highness, I don’t know what you mean. I—”
“It’s alright,” The princess held up a hoof against her protests. “I’m not angry with you, young one. But neither am I a simpleton. And you are not the princess, Mi Amore Cadenza.”
“But,” the filly’s voice shook, “but I am…”
“Young lady, I met the heir to the Amethyst Throne, centuries ago. I was there for her crystalling,” Celestia said gently. “I was a friend of her mother for years before that. And even if I weren’t, both of them were pegasi. Now, please—”
It was at that moment that the faux princess before her did the last thing that Celestia could have ever expected. Celestia had seen any number of would-be Mi Amores before her over the last few months. Some had remained insistent, even in the face of their obvious fraud, thinking that their stubbornness might save them. Others had begged for clemency. A few had simply shrugged, accepting whatever might follow. One had even laughed, as if it were all some practical joke. 
But this one, after staring at the Lady of Day with an expression of pure heartbreak, simply collapsed onto the polished floor, bursting into tears.
After a moment of shock, Celestia began to descend to her. But in an instant, the majordomo was there first. 
“There, there,” Abacus said softly as he held the sobbing foal. “No one’s angry at you, dear, you’ve done nothing wrong…” 
As she stood on the dais, Celestia detected movement towards the back of the throne room. 
“Stop him,” she said distractedly.
There was a sharp crack! from the area before the main doors, and a pegasus stallion was lying on his side, surrounded by frowning guards as he moaned in pain. One of them had struck him across his right legs with the haft of her spear. Apparently, the Princess wasn’t the only one getting tired of con artists and counterfeit royalty.
Meanwhile, at the foot of the throne’s dais, Abacus Plinth gave Princess Celestia the slightest look of askance. She, in return, gave the barest of nods. Which was hardly necessary, as the old unicorn was already in motion again.
“Here now, little one,” he was murmuring. “Everything’s going to be alright. Why don’t you just come with me for a bit?”
Abacus gently gathered the miserable foal onto his back and vanished out a side door.
Once the door had closed behind them, Celestia ascended the throne once more. Sitting, she looked out across the hall.
“Bring him here.”
The stallion, a red-maned orange fellow with a red newscolt cap for a cutie mark, was just starting to regain his composure through the pain. The guards dragged him forward and all but threw him at the princess’ hooves.
“Your Highness,” he groveled, “please, I don’t understand, she seemed so certain, I had to believe her. Please, forgive us for—”
“You have made a grave error in judgement,” the monarch said, cutting him off with a gesture. “If you give a full confession now, including your actual name, all personal information about the young filly you brought here, and how the two of you met, I am inclined to be lenient.”
“Your Highness, I don’t—”
With a roar from all sides, every candle in the throne room flared, becoming a white torch of blinding light. 
The assemblage gasped. Several bowed and fled the throne room completely.
Meanwhile, the young stallion cringed, unable to breathe this close to the throne. For the greatest blaze of heat and light came, not from the candles’ flares, but from the figure seated before him, sheathed in a blazing corona of silver flame.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The candles were once again burning serenely in their tapers. Even as the pegasus gasped for breath, the terrible heat was gone. Looking up, he saw the Sun Queen leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed to slits that burned and flickered as they considered him.
“That’s once,” she said.





“You seem to have acquired a shadow, old friend,” Celestia noted.
She had only just finished setting the sun; the moon was not yet raised. The stars shone brightly, as always. 
Now, she was enjoying some tea and cake, while settling in for the evening’s business. Abacus usually gave the day’s last briefings, if any, during this time. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was an opportunity for them to almost relax with one another. To enjoy the formal friendship that had developed between them over the years.
Abacus Plinth glanced behind himself, a smile tickling his white beard. “Well, she’s a very pretty little shadow. And very helpful, too. I know I certainly don’t mind.”
Celestia managed a smile as well. The shadow, meanwhile, ducked behind the old unicorn shyly, with only her ebony mane and tail visible to either side of him.
“And what is your name, little one?” Celestia asked kindly. 
The filly peeked out from behind Abacus. “Mi Am—I mean,” she sighed. “Raven, Your Highness.”
“Well, Raven, thank you for helping Abacus today.”
A tentative step forward. “Is Dimitri gonna be in trouble?” 
The adults in the room exchanged a glance, and Celestia put down her teacup.
“I won’t lie to you,” she said. “What he’s done is very serious. All the more so because he involved you.”
“He was always nice to me.”
“And that will probably count in his favor.”
The filly took another step forward, stared up at her with huge, heartbroken eyes. “Are you gonna put him in the dungeon?”
The Princess made a sour face. “That… won’t be up to me.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m too angry with him.” 
But the child only seemed more confused at that. With a sigh, Celestia rose from her chair and sat on the floor in front of Raven.
“You see, because I’m so angry, I know that if there are reasons he shouldn’t be punished, or shouldn’t be punished as harshly, I won’t be able to see them.” The Princess explained. “So, he’ll need to be judged by somepony else. Somepony who can see what I can’t, and will treat him more fairly.”
The little filly frowned. “I thought being a princess meant you were always right.”
Celestia’s smile was sad. “No, unfortunately it doesn’t. Sometimes, it just means doing your best.”
“Oh.” Raven seemed to consider this, then turned to Abacus. “Can I give her the papers?”
At the old unicorn’s nod, Raven retrieved a sheaf of notes and forms from his satchel with exaggerated care. Celestia looked at him quizzically as she accepted them. “Papers? I admit, I had been hoping we were done for the day.”
“Alas, Your Highness, no. It seems that there is a dispute among the griffons and their pony neighbors regarding the proper disposition of several relics recently discovered, and violence has already begun to break out. Moreover, an unexpected drought in the North Hinterlands is being blamed on the pegasi, who in turn maintain that it was interference from a dragon.”
Frowning, she began shuffling through the papers. “Effects on the crops?”
“None yet, but anticipated to be severe in a month’s time. Additionally…”
She sighed, holding up a tired hoof. “Alright. Let me set the moon in place, and then we can deal with all this properly.”
A slight bow. “Of course.”
It was several hours later by the time they were done, and Raven was curled up asleep in front of the tearoom fireplace.
For her part, Celestia had her elbows on the table, tired eyes staring from between her hooves. 
“Is there anything else I need to read or sign before retiring?” she asked. “Kingdom-wide emergencies? Muffin shortages? Please, as you love your ancestors, say no.”
“Only one, Your Highness.”
She glanced at the paper he gave to her. Then re-read it, suddenly more awake. Finally, staring at the old stallion before her.
“You’re adopting her?”
“She has no one else, Your Highness.”
She pinched the bridge of her muzzle. “Abacus, it’s just you and me now. We’re both exhausted. Can we drop the formalities, for just a minute?”
He gave a small bow. “As you wish.”
She picked up the paper and re-read it again. 
“You’ve known one another less than a day.”
“Agreed.”
“You met under perhaps the worst possible circumstances for this to be even vaguely well thought-out.”
He nodded. “I am aware of that.”
“She’ll have only started to process what she’s gone through.”
“Of this, also, I am most aware.”
“And you know nothing about raising a filly.”
A slight tilt of the head. “All that is true,” he acknowledged.
She peered at him. “And you think this is… wise?”
He returned her gaze, completely at ease. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Celestia lowered her face onto her desk with a groan, covering her head with both arms. “Abacus, you have served me for over twenty years. Your advice has always been sound, and your assistance invaluable. I’m asking you to tap into that fountain of wisdom now.” She looked at him again from between her forearms. “Is there truly nopony else who would take her in?”
For the first time, Abacus looked uncomfortable. “I suppose there likely is, somewhere. She is a highly intelligent and good-natured young lady, as you’ve seen. I don’t imagine it would take long to find her a family.”
“But…?”
“But, well… Raven and I have already kind of… bonded.” At her look, he continued quickly, “I don’t expect fathering a young filly to be easy, by any means, of course. But well, as you know, I’ve been looking at taking on an apprentice for a while now, and she is about the right age, and I… well…” 
He looked down. “And… I like her. And she likes me. She was following me around all evening, asking intelligent questions about what I do, and why, and looking for ways to help. And, well, she doesn’t have anypony else right now, and when I think of what that blackguard did to her, it just makes my blood boil…”
He sighed, looking at the filly asleep by the fire. “And I want to be there for her. When she has those little hurts that foals get. When she finds those joys that one finds while growing up.” He looked at the fine Saddle Arabian rug that covered most of the floor. “And when I brought up the idea that she might stay here with me, she was so happy…”
“Well then,” Celestia shrugged, “I suppose you’d better have this back.”
He looked up, and saw that she was holding out the adoption document, already signed.
“I’ve known you since you were younger than she is now,” she smiled. “And it’s obvious this would make you both happy. So, if you are completely sure, I can’t think of anypony better suited to be a father to young Miss Inkwell than yourself.”
Abacus bowed low in sheer gratitude. “Thank you, Your Highness!”
Celestia sighed and accepted the inevitable shift back to decorum. “You’re welcome.”
After Abacus had secured the form into his jacket pocket, he asked, “One question, though. How is it you say you’ve known me so long? I didn’t come to the palace until I was nearly thirty.”
“True. But there were your class field trips while you were growing up. Not to mention the time we talked at the Sun Festival, after I’d eluded my entourage…”
He frowned in thought for a moment, then stared at her. “That was you? I was… heavens, I think I was ten?”
She nodded. “You had just turned eleven. You were telling me about your pet frog, and why you had named him Roberto.” She gave a mischievous smile. “You were wearing the blue tie your sister’s coltfriend had given you. His name was Steadyhoof.”
Unsteadily, Abacus sat down. After a moment, he shook his head with a rueful smile. “I should have known better than to ask,” he said. 
She chuckled. “My point is, you have always been conscientious about everything you have done. So if you have truly considered the matter – which you obviously have – it would be foolish of me to not help however I can.”
“And I will be forever grateful. But, on a more somber note…”
She made a face. “Eeugh.”
He grinned. “Indeed. But, regarding the miscreant Dimitri: pardon my asking, but how will you find an impartial judge?” 
“I honestly don’t know.” She walked over towards the balcony. “He didn’t just try to con me, after all. He conned her. He convinced her that she was Mi Amore Cadenza, and that after a lifetime of living on her own she was finally going to get her fairy-tale ending. And even after discovery, he was completely unrepentant, aside from being sorry that he was caught.
“So, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I just know I can’t be his judge. If you’ll bring me a list of ponies currently serving on the bench tomorrow, I’ll try to select someone as emotionally unimpeachable as possible.”
A slight bow. “Very wise, Your Highness.”
She sighed again. “I hope so.” 
She stepped out onto the balcony, allowing the night air to envelop her. 
“Abacus, tell me truly,” she said to the wind. “Am I a fool?”
Abacus looked at her cautiously. “Eh, well… how is Your Highness defining ‘folly’ this evening?”
“I mean, am I wasting my time, searching for her?”
He gave a philosophical shrug. “Well, the con artists are revealing themselves in record numbers, Your Highness. I imagine that should count for something…”
The princess favored him with a distinctly indecorous look.
He smiled, and inclined his head. “Forgive me. And no, I don’t think you’re wasting your time. Assuming, of course, you’re certain she has actually arrived.”
“I am.”
He considered her for a moment, then said, “And yet, if you will pardon my playing devil’s advocate for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“You have not sensed her arrival, directly or indirectly. Plus, no one has brought her to you, nor any word of her, in all this time. Is it not possible that she has not yet materialized, or even that she never will?”
“No. It’s not.”
Princess Celestia sat down, allowing the wind to waft through her pale-rainbowed mane before continuing. 
“Yes, I can sense some of the patterns that bind events and lives together… but it’s still a sense, as fallible as anypony’s senses of touch and taste.” She shrugged. “I grant you, my not sensing something as important as Mi Amore’s arrival is unusual. But that could also be due to enchantments placed upon her, to protect her from her enemies. Her mother had access to the Crystal Heart, after all, one of the world’s most powerful protective talismans.”
She sighed. “Then again, it might even be due to my own emotional involvement. Radiance was a dear friend to us both, and her murder was especially hard on…” 
The Princess’ voice trailed off for a moment. 
Then she shook herself and continued, “In any case. It remains, my lack of perception is hardly evidence of the filly’s absence.
“More importantly,” she went on, “the time capsule spell, like so many of the highest-tier spells, has a duration of a thousand years. Mi Amore would have materialized three months ago, give or take a few days.”
“Yet, the outpost at the old Empire’s site has reported nothing, in all this time,” Abacus pointed out.
But the princess only nodded. “Exactly. Therefore, Radiance added a geographical element to the spell. It only makes sense, really. Would you risk having her materialize a thousand years later, in a hall full of enemies?” She looked back to him. “She’s out there somewhere, Abacus. I know she is. We just have to find her.”
Her majordomo gave a slight bow. “Then we are agreed. The search is worthwhile.”
She gave a tired nod. “Yes.”
Abacus went to the desk she had occupied, and began gathering the various documents in preparation for the coming day. 
“Still. I’ve always thought it strange that she didn’t just send her daughter directly to you, if you’ll pardon my saying so,” he admitted. “Especially now, hearing you say that she had the option. Surely, she must have known you would want to look after the young princess. Honestly, if it were me I would have simply teleported the girl.”
“King Sombra, in addition to being a master magician, was also an expert liar,” Celestia said. “Everyone in the Crystal Empire thought we had already been overthrown by his magic, including the Royal Family. Radiance using the time capsule spell only shows her faith that we would one day return to power and cast her conqueror down.”
“But, couldn’t she have still arranged for the child to arrive here?”
Celestia frowned. “I suppose. I had always assumed she’d randomized the arrival point to keep… her daughter… from being…” Celestia’s voice trailed away as her face took on a look of sheer horror.
“Highness?”
“Ancestors forgive me,” she whispered. And she vanished in a burst of golden light.
> 2: Revelations.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just once, Celestia thought, I would like to pay for my own mistakes.
The Princess of Day sat alone in the middle of the throne room floor, looking down at nothing. There was certainly little new to see; even after centuries of neglect, the Castle of the Two Sisters still clearly showed the scars of the final battle between sun and moon. 
Upon materialization, Celestia had raced frantically throughout the old ruins and the overgrown lands outside, calling Mi Amore’s name. Useless, of course. After all, her trace spell had confirmed that, yes, this was where the time spell had concluded itself... but not three months earlier, as it should have.
Rather, Mi Amore Cadenza had somehow materialized four years ago, in that very room.
Obviously, some variable had interfered with the spell. Sombra’s magic? The Crystal Heart? It hardly mattered now. All that mattered was finding Mi Amore.
Now, sitting in the very monument of her failures, Celestia raised her eyes to the moon glaring down at her through the ruined ceiling.
Luna, she thought desperately. Beloved sister, if you can hear me in your slumber… what should I do? What would you say to me now, if you were here?
The chamber was silent. Not even insects stirred.
You would likely say that I have no time for self-recriminations, Celestia decided at last. That I must find her, and help her however I can. Yet, you would also remind me that I must not neglect my other responsibilities while I do so. Especially to those I care for. 
She looked away from the moon’s reproachful stare. And you would be right. As always.
For a moment, her heart ached anew. But, only for a moment. Yes, no doubt Luna would have loved to meet the little unicorn Celestia was mentoring. But now was not the time for such thoughts.
Whatever happened, must have happened here, or nearby, she determined. So. She arrived at the throne room. Where did she wander from here?
The spell was a simple act of psychometry, amplified by her own power to pierce through the years. Sure enough, there was little Mi Amore, alone in a shadowy hall of webs and memories. She was more mature than when Celestia had seen her last, of course, though she still couldn’t have been older than Twilight was now. And as the filly spread her wings for balance, Celestia could see that they were quickly becoming the wings of a young lady.
Mi Amore had also gotten her cutie mark, apparently, before her family’s overthrow. A heart of flawless blue crystal, the very image of her empire’s ceremonial Crystal Heart.
Celestia stared, marveling at the implications. What kind of talent did the young pegasus have, to manifest a mark like that?
Hello? asked the image. Is… is anypony there?
Celestia watched the image of the young heir as she took a few steps one direction, then another. Then, lost and bereft, collapsed where she was and wept.
Her tears lasted for perhaps a minute.
Then, having given vent to her sorrows, the foal shook herself, picked herself up. Celestia had to smile as the little pink pegasus frowned with new determination, spread her wings, and took off, soaring through the empty skylight and out of sight.
Celestia followed the vision with ease as Mi Amore flew over the Everfree Forest. She flew high enough to see that she was nowhere she recognized, though she could not soar high enough to see any other signs of civilization. Exhausted, the filly landed by a river, drinking and bathing before continuing on. She was obviously looking for some kind of shelter, before the night fell.
As the foal continued to follow the river deeper into the Everfree, Celestia felt her heart grow cold with terrible premonition. 
No, she thought. 
The river had reached a fork.
Take the left fork, Celestia thought desperately. Cross over the water and take the left!
But Mi Amore’s image continued her journey, finding ways to enjoy the beauty around her despite her circumstance, following the river’s edge to the right.
Celestia raced ahead, speeding up the spell as she did so. Less than a mile later, where she knew there had once been a cavern in a hillside, centuries ago, now there was a great wall of ancient boulders. But their formation was different now than it should have been, as though they had been moved and then replaced, so as to once again block the cavernous entrance.
Celestia needed no enchantment to know that the two stone figures, once hidden deep in that cavern, were gone.
Sitting by the riverside, Mi Amore watched the water for a while. Then, she began to sing to raise her spirits. It was a song of love, of hope, of encouragement and finding a way. She had a beautiful voice, and the inhabitants of the forest paused to listen as she sang.
The spell didn’t show the creatures who surprised the young filly. Celestia saw her ear twitch as Mi Amore heard something behind her, and the startled turning of her head. Then, there was simply the sheer terror in her eyes when she espied what had emerged from the cavern behind her. She opened her mouth to scream…
Then, nothing. The foal simply vanished, concealed by her captors’ magic from even Celestia’s mystic sight.





“Abacus, cancel everything for the next four days. No, make it a week.” 
“Yes, Your Highness.”
All around her chambers, scrolls and papers circled rapidly through the air, held aloft by magic of a variety of different colors. Five Celestias, each a different color of the rainbow, were reading with blurring speed. There was also the blue, who was speaking to Abacus Plinth; and the red, who was writing frantically.
“Are you certain this is all the records of deaths for the last four years?” the blue demanded. “All of them, even accidents? Even missing ponies? Abandoned dwellings? Everything?”
“As certain as possible, Highness.”
“Very well. Now listen closely. When I return, I will give you a sign. I will say, ‘I rose the sun early today.’ You will say, ‘And the stars still shine, even in day.’ I will say, ‘Every mare and stallion is a star.’ If I do or say anything in deviation from that, or if I hesitate before replying, or if I don’t give you that first sign as soon as I see you… then you are dealing with an imposter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I don’t expect that to happen. But just the same, I will leave a dossier of their known abilities before I go,” the blue Celestia went on, gesturing to her red self. “It will almost certainly be incomplete. These are ancient creatures, older than myself.”
“I see. Princess Celestia, how should I handle the matter, should there be such an… imposter?”
“Drink alcohol.”
His eyebrows arched. “Highness?”
“I’m serious, Abacus. Get drunk, as drunk as you can without blacking out.”
To his disbelieving stare, she went on, “Then, take a large bag I will prepare for you and go to a certain statue on the grounds. I’ve described it in the letter. Once there, read the scroll I’m enclosing with the instructions. It’s not strong enough to undo the Elements’ magic – not much can – but it should weaken it. Then, hit the statue with the bag as hard as you can, until the bag breaks open.”
“I… see. And what is in the bag, Your Highness?”
“Dice.”
He blinked. “Dice?”
“Dice. Of every shape and color there is.”
He stared at her, completely at a loss. “I… why?”
“I’m sorry, Abacus, there’s no time. If you can think of something more chaotic than that, do that too, while you’re there. Play an instrument you don’t know. Start a quarrel with the guards. Whatever comes to mind, I don’t know. It could be ponykind’s last hope. Everybeing’s last hope.”
“And this… statue… will save Equestria?”
She shook her head. “No. Point of fact, he’ll almost certainly destroy it.”
The old stallion paled. “But, then why…?”
Even as the blue Celestia joined the others in their desperate accumulation of data, the red Celestia rolled up the letter she’d been writing and pressed it into his hooves.
“Because if they are able to overcome me, the world he creates will still be better than anything the Crimson Queen and her son would ever allow,” she said.
Just then, the door opened. A young voice, still half asleep, said, “Prin-cess C’lestia, I had a bad dream…”
Everything stopped. 
Abacus Plinth stopped, scroll still in hoof. Seven Celestias froze, their various papers stopping in mid-flight. All of them stared at Twilight Sparkle, who in turn absorbed it all with huge violet eyes. Astonishment and wonder warred with one another within the face of the now very awake young unicorn, each being rapidly overshadowed by sheer excitement as she took in a long, delighted breath.
The Celestias looked at one another. The blue one cleared her throat, and began, “Now, Twilight, I need you to stay calm—”
“You have got to teach me that spell!”
“Yes, and we can talk about that later—”
“There are what, seven of you? Seven?” Twilight squeed, jumping up and down. “I could read seven times as fast? Study seven times as much at once?”
“Twilight—”
“Seven?”
“Twilight!”
The filly jumped back, and was still, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry for startling you,” the green Celestia said quickly. 
The blue went on, “Twilight, I’m getting ready to go on a very important journey—”
“Can—”
“—no, you can’t come with me, because it would be very dangerous, and no,” she interrupted again quickly, “bringing Spike along wouldn’t help. I should be back in a week or so, sooner if I can. Until then, I have a research project for you, shush,” she interrupted again, “and hear me out. I want you to research everything you can about spiders, and be ready to give me a presentation eight days after I get back. No sooner than that, though. I’ll need rest. Don’t even mention it to me until then. Alright?”
The filly nodded vigorously. 
“Good. I’ll be by to tuck you in before I go, and I’ll tell you more then, but I’m leaving tonight. You can tell me about your dream before I go. Okay?”
“Okay!”
The filly gave a quick bow, and zipped back the way she’d come, slamming the door behind her.
In an instant, the papers were orbiting again, and the various Celestias were reading as frantically as before.
The red Celestia spoke, nodding. “With that fresh in her mind, she might recognize what she’s dealing with, and stay away.”
“She’s clever enough,” said the violet. “And strong-willed.”
“It’s the best we can do,” mourned the orange, “should the worst occur.”
“Will there be anything else, Highness?” asked Abacus.
The green Celestia looked up. “Yes. In the unlikely event you need to go to the statue, take Twilight with you.”
“Twilight?”
The green shrugged. “She might put him in a good mood.”
The violet one shook her head as she studied, adding, “And besides, if a curious Twilight Sparkle can’t wake him up, nothing will.”





The dream wouldn’t have been very terrifying, in Celestia’s mind, to anypony but Twilight. It had been strange, hearing what had frightened her so, though the filly’s fears were certainly quite real. But that was alright. A few honest words of encouragement and some hugs, and the filly was already feeling much better.  
Still. Of all the threats the world might offer, having nightmares of failing at exams, of being kicked out of the palace for not knowing enough… 
Then again, Celestia had to admit, for all that her fears are unfounded, I suppose they’re not unreasonable in her position. Even after six months, everything must still seem so uncertain.
And within her own heart, a voice whispered, At least her fear of failure is unfounded… 
“Princess Celestia, are you okay?”
The Princess put on her best courtly smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Twilight frowned. “You seem worried. Like one time my mom was, when Shining Armor was late coming home. She had everypony out looking for him.”
Celestia opened her mouth to reassure her apprentice--
“She had that same smile, too.”
--and closed it with an almost audible snap. 
It seems having a brilliant student is always a double-edged sword, she thought. 
So, instead of answering immediately, Celestia took in a deep breath, and then let it go.
“To answer your question, yes, I’m alright,” she said. “It’s just that, well, I’m realizing I made a huge mistake, and I need to correct it as quickly as I can.” She paused, then added, “I think ponies have been hurt because of my mistake.” She looked away. “Actually, I know they have.”
In response, Twilight cuddled up into the mare’s lap, wrapping her arms around the mare’s waist.
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
“You can’t know that—” Celestia began.
“Yuh-huh,” Twilight insisted, looking up at her. “I know you. You wouldn’t hurt ponies if you could help it. You’re too good.”
For several moments, Celestia hugged her little apprentice very tightly, eyes closed.
“Thank you, Twilight,” she whispered at last.
Twilight snuggled into her embrace more.
“But listen,” Celestia went on, “I’m going away for the next week or so, because I need to find some monsters. And then I have to fight them. That’s why you can’t come along. And they’re a lot like spiders, which is why I want you to know all about spiders. Just in case they come here.”
She pulled back enough to look into her student’s eyes. Twilight looked up at her, eyes round, and nodded.
“Also, you should know what they can do,” Celestia went on. “They’re both powerful mages. The mother also makes illusions, better than any other creature I know of. The son is a mentalist, and very cunning. So, yes, you were right. I am worried. 
“And I know it’s strange, telling somepony your age about all this. I’ll admit, I wasn’t planning to at first. But, I’ve decided that you have a right to know. Not just because you’re my apprentice, or because I was having to handle monsters when I was your age, or any of that.”
She put a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. 
“But because I believe in you. Not because you’re intelligent, or because you have powerful magic – though both of those are true – but because you’re Twilight. And I know you’ll be okay knowing about it.”
Twilight stared at her.
Celestia considered the filly in her lap. Oh, dear, she thought, please tell me I didn’t just scar you for life…
Twilight continued staring at her mentor with a seriousness only possible in nine-year-olds. Then, “We should have a safety word.”
Celestia frowned in surprise. “A what?”
“You know, a safety word. So I know it’s you when you come back.”
“Oh,” Celestia nodded. “Yes. That kind of safety word.”
“For palace security,” the filly added intently. “It could be hyper-critical.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea, Twilight. Yes, let’s set up some countersigns, just in case.” Celestia stroked Twilight’s mane, feeling inexplicably proud. “Now then. What do you think they should be?”





Four years, Celestia raged at herself as she flew. She’s been dead four years! They found her, starving after their centuries of imprisonment, and drained her dry... There wouldn’t even be a husk left by this point... Damn it, I should have sensed them awakening! I never knew they could conceal themselves like that… No wonder my seeking spells turned up nothing all this time! And all because the spell sent her back early...
Forgive me, Radiance. You trusted your daughter to a fool.
Then, with effort, Celestia turned her mind back to the present problem.
Enough. Focus on what’s Now. 
Whatever else her talents were, Mi Amore must have had a powerful heart… powerful enough to accidentally awaken them from their imprisonment. And four years ago, that powerful heart fell into the mouth of the Crimson Queen. It is, after all, what the monster does: feasting on love and love’s potential, until none remains. 
And since that point, she’s been feeding at leisure.
Likewise, the Knight of Mirrors, she thought grimly. Like a carrion bird, he’ll have been following behind his dam in her travels. Draining all hope once love has been exhausted, breaking ponies’ spirits to better devour them.
They would have emerged weak as kittens, she realized. Of course, there are fewer natural hazards in modern times. So, they won’t have had to expend much strength, hiding through the intervening years. Which means that they’ve had the luxury of moving carefully, rebuilding their power. And they’ve had at least four years to regain their might. 
Not to mention that as they get stronger, the radius of their feeding will just keep growing. As they themselves pointed out last time we fought, the world isn’t dividing itself into chaos realms anymore…
She shuddered. Left unchecked, their hunger might well encompass the world.
Just the same, Celestia reminded herself, by now, they must know I’m still alive. And if they thought they were ready, they would have already attacked. They have to know that Luna and the Elements are gone. So, they must not think they’re strong enough to face me again, even on my own. 
Not yet. 
So. On the one hoof, I don’t have the Elements anymore. And I don’t have Luna. And they’ve had years to learn and feast and grow powerful. That’s what they’ll be counting on.
But on the other hoof, while they’ve slept, I’ve had centuries to become what I am today. Plus, I have the advantage of surprise.
I can do this. 
Her eyes narrowed in determination.
All that remains is to find them. And with the records Abacus brought to me, I have a good idea where to begin.
Keeping her eyes on the ground below, alert for any trace of her foes, Celestia flew as fast as she dared.





The fly struggled harder, entangling itself further in its panic. Its helpless buzzing took on a higher pitch, resembling nothing more than screams. 
The web’s master, meanwhile, took its time. Slick and black as spilled oil, it journeyed with alien grace out onto its web slowly, luxuriously. It milked the moment, drinking in its prey’s terror. Then, in its own time, it attacked with a sudden, savage ferocity, sinking its fangs into the hapless insect’s body. Finally, filled with a predator’s contentment, it began to entomb its still-living prey, paralyzed and helpless, to await its final torments at its master’s leisure.
The Knight of Mirrors looked down at the spider with satisfaction. He knew exactly how it felt.
After all, why hunt one’s quarry when they would ultimately come to you?
And now, at long last, his rightful prey was seeking him out. Having been once denied this greatest of all feasts, he would not be denied again. 
True, she had become sorely diminished in spirit over the years. Despair and guilt had ravaged her badly. And, while that ensured that the sun pony was as good as his, it also would also lessen the flavour. Which was a shame on both counts, really. He had been looking forward to the challenge as much as the feeding. 
But despite it all, her soul still shone like a beacon to him, full of future’s bright promise. 
He stepped down slowly, deliberately, extinguishing spider and fly both with a gradual, wet crunch beneath his armoured heel. There was a momentary, helpless, keening sound from the arachnid beneath his boot. Then, nothing.
There would be no future here.
> 3: In the Village.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How’s your boy?”
Mira shrugged. As the village’s only unicorn, Mira lived in her cave as a borderline outcast. On the one hoof, the earth ponies assumed she couldn’t be strong enough to do anything they thought of as ‘real work.’ On the other hoof, when they needed enchantment, who did they seek out? Her, of course. So, over time, they’d learned to stay civil, if not friendly. It helped keep her prices down. 
Except for Pyrite, of course. He was simply an irritant. Pity he also ran the dry goods store.
“About the same,” she replied. 
“Thought I saw him flyin’, over to the meadow yonder,” Pyrite gestured halfheartedly. “Gatherin’ you herbs an’ whatnot, I guess?”
Again, she shrugged. It was a safe gesture. “Daydreaming, more likely.”
“Huh. Yours an’ mine, both,” he said. “Gotta beat respect into ‘em, seems like. Sure as hell weren’t born with any.”
“Colts have their own ways, Pyrite.”
“They ain’t the only ones,” he nodded as he counted up her order. “You hear ‘bout that princess, one that ours is lookin’ for?”
Mira rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
“Well, word is, some fella says he found her, away in Manehattan.”
“Of course he did,” she scoffed.
“Yeah, kinda my thinkin’,” he nodded. “If she was gonna turn up, figure she’d a done it by now. Still,” he considered, “plenty a’ folks seem ready to try their luck.”
“It’s like playing a lottery,” Mira pointed out. “The princess is many things, but a realist isn’t one of them. Eventually, she’ll find one she believes, because she wants to believe. She needs to. And once she does, somepony’s set for life. She just hasn’t found a ‘Mi Amore’ convincing enough.”
Pyrite kept nodding. “That, or she’s not desperate enough yet,” he added.
Mira shrugged again. “That, too, most likely.”
“What about you?” he winked. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout my offer?”
“No.”
“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun.” he leaned over the counter and grinned at her. “Make ya sweat.”
She managed a thin smile in return. “You might. But there are too many ponies who would miss you afterwards. So, no.”
For a moment, the shopkeep just stared. Once, he might have laughed. Now he just gave a sour chuckle.
“Alright,” he said as he went back to tallying up her purchase, “I had that comin’.”
“You did,” she agreed, still smiling.
The chiming of the bell above the shop’s door announced a green-maned colt’s entrance. His yellow coat matched the older stallion’s perfectly, even more than the dullness in both their eyes.
“Hey Papa, what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked. 
The shopkeep didn’t look up from his counting. “I dunno, why?”
“Leftovers?”
His father thought for a moment. “Likely.”
The colt wrinkled his snout. “Yeah, think I’ll head over to Mom’s, instead.”
The stallion snorted. “Fine, if she’ll have you. You just stay out from underhoof, you hear me? Don’t wanna hear about you later.”
The colt was already on his way out. “Whatever.”
The shopkeep shook his head. “Maybe he’ll stay there, this time,” he muttered. “One less damn thing to worry about. Anyway,” he turned back to Mira. “that’ll be eleven bits.”





She moved with a fluid grace through the village market, a jet black unicorn with leaf green eyes, a golden goblet on her flank. It was impossible to blend in with the villagers, even if she’d wanted to.
Bits were only sometimes used in the village, and never by her. So, she traded some of her recent embroideries for what she needed. More glassware, a few spices and staples she didn’t grow herself. 
Granted, it would have been preferable if Blue had done more about gardening – or anything at all, really – and she could focus entirely on other things. But after a time, punishing him every day had just seemed pointless. Still, while switching the colt was hardly pleasant, apparently it was something he needed from time to time. And at least now he let her ignore his laziness.
Well, mostly. She thought back to Pyrite’s comments, about his seeing Blue flying over that damned meadow. If he was showing off again, that might have to be dealt with.
Mira paused by the sweets shop, and its proprietor looked at her hopefully. Carob Bar made the best confections and candies in the village, and Blue had long ago fallen for her mint cookies. They especially went well with tea. Mira didn’t care for sweets herself, but she knew her son did…
No. Resolutely, she turned away from the shop and continued her way. The last thing that colt needed was to be spoiled, especially when he wasn’t doing even a lick of work. Most especially when he was flying about like some damned bird. She snorted. He had to toughen up, somehow. Or he wouldn’t survive.
“Miss Pisaurina?”
The unicorn turned her head with eyebrow upraised. None of the earth ponies addressed her formally unless they wanted something.
The approaching mare was younger than she looked. A few years ago, she had been in the summer of her life, with a new husband and new home. Her red mane had been full back then, with a pink coat and deep blue eyes, all shining with life and health. Now, her mane and tail were matted and dull as her listless eyes, same as all the rest.
“Miss Pisaurina, can you help me? I mean…” her voice trailed off and she looked away. 
Mira saw little sense in making things easier for the young mare. She and her kind certainly didn’t make things easier for her. But Mira did have a home to get back to, and a meal to cook. 
So she said, “Silk Rose, is it a potion you’re needing?”
Sighing, Silk Rose nodded. 
“What happened to the last one?”
Silk Rose sighed again. “She didn’t last.” She looked down as she went on, “I think Roman Pearl’s going to leave me soon. I know he is. He’ll be happier. Maybe that’ll be best, it’ll be quieter. I don’t know.” She looked up at the unicorn with dead eyes. “I just know I have to try again, before he does. Please.”
Mira nodded. “Twenty bits.”
“We just brought in a bunch of yams, and we’ve got some corn.”
“That’ll do fine. I’ll have your potion tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
“You can thank me when you’re carrying again,” Mira shrugged. “Bring me the goods, and I’ll have it ready for you. Try to be with him that night, if you can.”
“I remember.”
Mira nodded again. “Good enough.”
For a moment, she watched the mare wander away. Then, returning to Carob Bar’s shop, Mira bought a small bag of mint cookies. 
It was just a little snack here and there, after all. It shouldn’t spoil him too badly. She could pick up some tea on the way home.





The sun was setting by the time Mira was done with the village, and the wind was picking up. Making her way up the winding trail to their cavern home, she listened to the leaves scuttling their way along the stone. Most of the flora was still green, but autumn was turning the leaves quickly, and some had already started to fall. 
Turning around the last bend, she stopped. There, blocking her way, was an old sawhorse somepony had thrown away. Now it had been set in her path, draped in an old cloth for a cloak. A jack-o-lantern leered at her from beneath its cowl.
She examined the makeshift ghoul, eyebrow upraised. She supposed it was supposed to scare her. Of course, she didn’t scare easily. Never had. But it was a colt’s prank, and she could just imagine Blue giggling to himself as he set it up.
And if he’d gotten a pumpkin from the garden, he might have actually done some weeding today…
She snorted. More likely he’d started, then gotten his fool self distracted again. 
Oh, well.
Casually, she raised a foreleg to just swat it aside. Then she changed her mind, and walked around it instead.
The door to their home was a simple curtain she’d woven. It kept the cave warm, and gave some semblance of privacy. The cavern beyond was a single room, high-ceilinged and spacious. Different areas had come to be used for different functions, however, and she had a few more curtains she had made hanging as separations.
Bluebottle turned at her approach, his features brightening at once. “You’re home early!”
She nodded. “Village didn’t need much upkeep today. A fertility potion, but that’s nothing.” She put her bag down, and considered her son. “I know this is a ridiculous question even as I ask it, but did you get the weeding done today?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You did. So if I go outside right now and look, I’ll see a weeded garden then. No grass, no weeds, just the plants we need. Is that right?”
He looked uncertain.
“Or did you start the weeding, and then start daydreaming, and then see a ripe pumpkin and spend the rest of the afternoon carving that springheels-jack I saw on my way home?”
As she went on, Blue’s ears slowly fell back, his head steadily lowered.
“Of course, that would only have taken the afternoon. The sawhorse was already cut, you just needed a gourd and a few rags. I suppose you spent the rest of the day in that damned meadow of yours, larking about like a filly on a tether. Playing with flowers and dreaming about the stars alone know what.” She shook her head. 
Blue’s voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”
“Some of us have to work, you know,” she sighed, putting away the supplies she’d bought. “I don’t ask for much. It’s just disappointing how you manage to do even less. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, even softer. “Should I get a switch?”
She wasn’t even looking at him anymore now, just rearranging jars and bottles. “Why bother? It doesn’t do any good. You were a dreamer yesterday, and you’ll still be one tomorrow. You’ll die a dreamer, likely sooner than later the way you’re going.”
“But…” Blinking back tears, Bluebottle took a deep breath. “Maybe… maybe I could do something else? Something to do with my cutie mark. Maybe there’s something I could do, down in the village. Something we don’t know about yet.”
Her back still to him, she stopped, her eyes narrowed. “The village?”
“Sure,” he said. Then, before his courage could fail him, he went on, “I mean, I used to go there all the time. I used to have friends. Having my cutie mark doesn’t have to stop that, does it? And they…” His voice faltered, and he made himself finish, “They can’t all hate us now, can they?”
When she said nothing, he looked down again, saying, “And yeah, you’re right. I got distracted. Again. And I am sorry. It’s just… sometimes, everything feels so wrong. I don’t know how else to put it. I mean, I know you’ll be mad, but sometimes, I’ve tried to fly to the village. I’ve tried to go lots of times, even when I knew you’d be there and I’d get in trouble.
“But, I couldn’t. Somehow, something always stops me. I don’t know what. I just… I can’t go there anymore.”
“You don’t belong there,” she said, still not looking around. “Neither do I. And don’t think they can’t all hate us. You don’t see how they look at me, or hear some of the things they say. And I don’t want you to.”
He looked up, saw that she had turned around to face him at last. “But why?”
Her mouth was a thin line. “It’s the way of the world.”
“It’s not fair!”
“Nothing is.”
“But why?” he cried. “Why? Why do I have to feel this way? Why does anypony? I shouldn’t have to feel this way, always alone, always unloved—”
With startling speed, his mother was across the room, towering over him.
“You-selfish-spoiled-little-brat!” Mira Pisaurina slapped him rapidly, alternating cheeks as she spoke. 
“You feel alone and unloved?” she hissed. “Well, welcome to the world, everyone feels alone and unloved! The world is a mad, carnivorous beast! All life is its garden! It preys upon the weak, even as it tries to break the strong!” 
Fighting back tears, she ended in a hoarse whisper, “And at the end, no matter what you do, it harvests you!” 
Then, she sighed, turning away as if defeated. “And, just for the record, I love you. So… you’re not alone.” Suddenly exhausted, she began walking slowly back towards their storage area. “Now, go set the table. I’ll have dinner ready soon.”
The colt paused, then closed the distance between them in a rush, embracing his mother fiercely. She gave one of her startled gasps, as she always did when suddenly hugged. Then she turned, and hugged him back.
Bluebottle closed his eyes, squeezing tighter, desperately treasuring the moment while it lasted. He never felt so secure as when he was in her embrace, as if she could somehow envelop him completely.
“Alright, alright,” she said at last, pulling away from him. She looked at Bluebottle fondly, shaking her head. “Ah, my son,” she said, stroking his mane. “What am I going to do with you?”
He grinned. “Spoil me rotten with mint cookies?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, and brought out the treats she had bought for him. He whooped and soared in the spacious cavern, even as she shook her head and went back to preparing his dinner.





Most of dinner was taken in silence. Mira ate little, when she ate at all, and tonight was no exception. She mostly drank her tea, and nibbled on a few sprigs of parsley. Blue, on the other hand, more than made up the difference. And at his inevitable Are you gonna finish that? she rolled her eyes and pushed her plate over to him, watching him devour the remaining potatoes and mixed greens.
Eventually, reluctantly, Mira broke the quiet between them. “I’ve been thinking about moving,” she said.
Bluebottle swallowed the last of his dinner. “Why?”
She gave one of her shrugs. “I think our time here has about run its course. We should try our luck someplace where there are more ponies.”
His ears perked up. “Like Manehattan?”
She frowned. “Why is it when a city comes up, that’s the only name anypony thinks of? There are other cities in the world. Even just in Equestria.”
“Like Canterlot?”
She shifted uneasily. “Well, that might be a bit too big. And I don’t relish the idea of hiking up and down a damned mountain. This cliff side’s bad enough.”
“I bet you could manage.”
“Probably I could.”
He grinned. “I could fly you.”
She tried not to smile and encourage his foolishness, but it leaked through despite her best efforts. “Maybe you could, in a few years,” she conceded. “But not yet. You’re still finding your strength, and I’m heavier than I look.”
“And stronger,” he pointed out. 
Mira’s smile vanished. “I’ve had to be,” she said. She looked away, her eyes full of memories. 
Blue sighed. After a long pause, he asked, “Well, where do you want to go?”
His mother gave another of her shrugs, as she often did when she didn’t want to share her thoughts. 
Bluebottle tried to think of something else to cheer her up, but now that the food was really hitting, he was having trouble just keeping his eyes open. Finally, he pushed away his plate. “I think I’ll go to bed.”
She looked back to him, frowning. “So early?”
He nodded, yawning. “Uh-huh. Can you make my hammock?”
“Of course.” She rose, started towards the section of cavern they used as his bedroom. “Do you want a goodnight kiss?”
He shook his head as he followed her, yawning. “Nah, don’t need it. I’m really tired.”
“Alright then. Come here, let’s get you wrapped up.”
She lifted him up, rotating him carefully, lovingly, so as not to disturb him. Meanwhile, he curled into a semi-fetal position, already starting to doze. In a short time, he was suspended in his hammock, in a deep and exhausted sleep.
She caressed his sleeping form through the protective silk. “Sweet dreams, my son,” she smiled. “Soon, we shall find a better place for you than this. You will see.”
And, illuminated by the dying embers of their fire, her many-legged shadow dancing on the wall beside her, Mira Pisaurina began to sing lullabies to her son.
> 4: The Court of the Crimson Queen.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trail had been faint and short. If she hadn’t known what to look for, and where the trail began, Celestia would have missed it completely. 
After the cave by the river, the trail had continued northwest with a travelling salespony who had never arrived and was never found, his path having crossed something deadly. But then, his was a dangerous trade, so his death had hardly warranted investigation. Then, there was a farmstead, the family mysteriously devoured by scavengers. It had been surmised that while the animals might have attacked for reasons unknown, probably the ponies had just gotten sick and died. There was certainly no sign of foul play. 
And then, further along, a small fishing village of perhaps twenty ponies, all strangely vanished sometime between annual market days. Every mare, stallion, and foal, along with all their personal belongings, were simply gone. But as the railroads continued to be built, a community that small moving into a larger town was becoming more common. So, while ponies in the nearby villages had missed them and their wares, there was little reason for concern. It was, after all, the way of a changing world.
But in every instance, Celestia had known better. 
Thus, the trail had led to a large farming village, in a steep valley in the northern Whitetail Woods. Technically a town by population, it was still called a ‘village’ simply due to tradition and location. It was remote, isolated by terrain, and reputed for its inhabitants’ love of privacy.
The village itself might not have even had a name. Map makers gave it the valley’s name, on the rare occasion they marked it down at all. Neighbors – the closest of whom lived days away – called it ‘in the valley,’ while its inhabitants apparently just called it ‘the village.’ Like Cloudsdale, it was one of the few places in modern Equestria that essentially had only one tribe of inhabitants. And the earth ponies who dwelt there had little use for trade, visitors, or much else from outside.
Voe Valley.
According to what little was written about the place, Voe Valley was lush and fertile, thanks in part to the creek flowing through it. Now, flying over the valley, Celestia could see that those accounts had hardly done the place justice. Flora and fauna alike flourished under a rich forest canopy, and the stone cliffs of the valley itself were as breathtakingly beautiful as they were sheer and unclimbable.
But Celestia had little inclination to appreciate the beauty of the dale. For in the center of the valley, covering where the village was supposed to be, was a massive web of egg-colored silk. Anchored to the treetops on all sides, it rippled gently in the wind like the sail of a giant’s shipwreck.
It was concealed by an illusion, of course. But not one so powerful that she could not see through it. And for that, Celestia allowed herself a moment of elation. To all appearances, her enemies were not expecting her, or else the Crimson Queen would have woven a much more powerful enchantment. Or, perhaps, her enemies were simply not powerful enough to deceive her in person.
Then she stopped in mid-air, and reminded herself just who she was dealing with.
Concealing herself behind the white autumn clouds, she concentrated for several moments, looking for any further trace of magical deception. Finding none, Celestia hesitated. She remembered well how difficult the Queen’s illusions could be to detect, how cunningly they could lead one into the monster’s webs... and especially how those deadly strands let the monster feed even more voraciously on those trapped within. It was an evil memory, and the princess shuddered a little as she thought of it.
But looking at the billowing weave below her, the web seemed designed to prevent entry, not to ensnare. Celestia frowned. If the Crimson Queen anticipated intruders, why not let them tangle themselves, and feed at leisure? And for that matter, who would she be expecting, if not Celestia? It was a curious defense, one that asked more questions than it answered.
For a moment, Celestia considered simply burning the web away, charging into her foes’ nest, and challenging Queen and Knight alike in a blaze of fire and light. But only for a moment. She was not the young mare she had been when they had last fought, so long ago. She liked to think she had gained at least a little wisdom since then. And there was obviously something in her enemies’ plans that she did not yet understand.
So, caution.
In a flash of sunlight, she materialized at the west end of the valley, away from the village and any roads leading to it. Whatever might be awaiting her, she would be better able to see it at walking speed. And if she was expected, she was likely expected to arrive by air. 
At the same time, there might have been snares set here or there as a matter of course; or strands set where they might be broken by an intruder, setting off some hidden alarm. So she would need to proceed carefully.
The creek emptied into a small fissure at the mouth of Voe Valley, vanishing underground. As she made her way along the rocky terrain and down into the valley itself, the woods below and before her were full of life. As she passed the creek’s fissure, ancient trees, bushes, and high grass fairly bristled with birds, rabbits, and other animals. All of them completely oblivious to the cottony mass further in the valley, and to the strange, musty scent it exuded. 
Straining her senses to their utmost, Celestia continued her journey eastward, deeper into her enemies’ lair. After a time, Celestia passed through a meadow full of flowers and birds, eyeing every shape and form with suspicion. Yet, everything seemed to be only as it appeared.
Warily, Celestia walked further into the valley, slowly approaching the webbed nest in its center.
Then, eventually she simply stopped, staring at what lay before her.
On the outskirts of the Crimson Queen’s nest was the village cemetery. But it was one unlike any Celestia had ever seen. It was composed of small stones. Just row after row of them, each about the size and shape of a bread loaf. No marks, no decorations, no flowers or offerings. Just… stones. Hundreds of pale little stones.
Celestia stepped carefully as she navigated the crowded graveyard. After a while, as she got closer to the village, the stones started having engravings. ‘Son.’ ‘Daughter.’ Then, after that, the previous year carved on as well. And after that – only after that – the small markers carried names as well as dates and genders. 
Ages four and less, she thought. All of them. Looking around, it seemed that a few years ago, the village’s young foals had all died. The first stones she’d encountered, the ones most recently buried, would have all been weanlings born since that time. 
And there were so many. Far, far too many.
The entire village hasn’t had a weanling survive in the last four years, she realized. And now their deaths have become so commonplace, so numbing, that the villagers have stopped even giving their newborns names. 
When she and Luna had faced the two monsters before, it had been shortly after Discord’s fall. The pair had been known to devour entire herds together, leaving nothing but empty, staring husks for whatever scavengers might come. But Celestia had never imagined what it might have looked like if they had decided to feed slowly.
Now, surrounded by the little grave markers, Celestia looked around herself with growing sadness. For a long moment, her head hung almost to the ground. She honored her guilt, allowed it to wash over and through her. Then, she focused upon her anger instead, raising her head again. She looked further on, into the web-shrouded village itself.
She understood now. That wasn’t a nest she saw before her. It was a larder.
I know you’re here, she thought. I know you’re here, and I’m coming for you.





Mira looked over at the cavern entrance, frowning.
Blue followed her glance, frowning as well. “Mother? What is it?”
She shook her head. “Business I have to take care of.” She sighed. “Come on, son of my heart. Bedtime.”
“But I’m not tired!”
“That’s all right. Come on. I’ll kiss you goodnight.”
“But…” his shoulders sagged. “But I don’t want to go to bed this early. The sun’s still out. Can’t I just go outside until it’s dark?”
“No, dear heart. Sorry. Come on, I’ll make it quick.”
Sighing in defeat, Bluebottle went to where his mother waited. He hissed slightly when she kissed him, where the neck and shoulder met, but it was only a little sting and one he’d long ago become used to. Almost immediately his eyes were getting heavy, and he could feel himself nodding off. 
Shortly thereafter, another being entered the cave. Upright and gleaming in silvery steel, the intruder contemplated the sleeping foal in his protective silken orb, hanging from his mother’s web. 
“So, he yet endures.” A masculine voice, echoing and strange. “Never did I dream he would last so long.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Be quiet. He could hear you.”
“Nay,” the cave’s new occupant chuckled. “Not ‘till a hot Hearth’s Warming, with thy kisses in his veins.”
She grunted, but said nothing, crouching in her customary place by the fire. 
“For lo, these many months, hast thou been keeping thy treasure to thyself,” the figure observed. “Seasons and years have come an’ been spent. Tell me, hast no inclination of community in thy feast?”
“An’ hast no patience within thy hearts, to ask me so?” she hissed, lapsing into the Old Speech herself. “Fie! Thou’rt wild wood as those sisters, to state such confusion.”
Mira Pisaurina rose and went to Bluebottle’s hammock, where he hung in peaceful slumber. “Ne’er before has there been such a trove,” she purred, touching its silken threads. “Nor, belike, shall e’er be again.”
“And thus, let caution rule thy desires,” the figure said. “Thou takes too long in thy feeding, an’ thus the risk doth swell. Single heart hath single strengths.”
“Aye, made no easier by thy o’er cunning to-do!” she snapped, whirling on him. “Didst have to give him memories of the villagers below? Of enjoying himself there? What was possibly to be gained? A jewel such as ne’er before dreamed, an’ thou wouldst risk it in petty temptations!”
But the armored form only shrugged, what little light there was in the cave gleaming off his bipedal form. 
“Teaching despair is e’er a fine art,” he said. “Contentment may weaken the soul, e’en as envy doth corrode it. But ‘tis loss which ultimately breaks it. An’ recall: when his heart finally empties, he passeth from thy plate... to mine.” 
Then, he chuckled. “And what of thy nursery charades? Speakest to me of to-do, with all thy this-is-for-stallions and this-is-for-mares nonsense?”
She favored him with a sour look. “’Tis a useful confliction which hampers the mind.” 
Beneath the pony illusion she maintained, a few of her eyes looked back to the hammock where Bluebottle slept peacefully. 
“This is a foal of unique power,” she said softly. “A heart as strong as a thousand suns, as wide as an ocean, as welcoming as a tomb. Nothing done by any art can change that. Yet, ‘tis by fearing weakness that he doth keep that heart’s defenses weak. An’ being weak, lo, he remains a river for me alway to sup from, again and again. An’ thus each night, I grow stronger. So, so much stronger.”
“Ah. An’ here I thought ‘twas sentimentality. Or dost truly despise so the role thou hast taken, an’ the form thou needlessly wears, e’en now?”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “An’ speakest thus, e’en as thou walks in a two-legged skin of steel. Is’t only this foolishness for which thou hast sought me in my haven?”
“Nay, my dam, in sooth ‘tis not.” His bow was a mockery forged in polished silver, but his voice was sincere as he said, “The remaining sister hath caught our scent, else one aligned with it. She approacheth fast.”
She hissed through her compound mandibles, all form and semblance of ponykind discarded, her bladed forelegs rearing up in fear. “Impossible! My spells protect us from all scrying!”
“An’ yet, she is near here now.” The Knight of Mirrors tilted his helmed visage in invitation, saying, “E’en now she walks among the dead, mourning their soft skulls an’ softer lives. Shalt thou see to her comfort, an’ her to thine, as in ages before?”
“Verily, I must have mated with a scorpion, to throw tarante with such tongue as thine,” Mira snarled. With some of her eyes, she again glanced at the foal hanging above. Others she kept on the figure before her. A few glanced at the cave’s entrance, calculating. Ultimately, her forelegs lowered again. “Nay. E’en now, mine harvest is far from complete. How much time have we, bethinks?”
“Time enow to count thy limbs, an’ mine,” he replied. “Mayhap less.”
“An’ only now dost mention this tiding?” she demanded. “My son is a fool!”
Another bow. “Know thyself, madam. Once, thou reserved the Sun Maiden for thyself. I contested that choice then, an’ do so now. We did ourselves no credit, to strive against our own strengths. An’ therefore did we fall. Now, I but crave thy leave to do as I must.”
“Damn you!” She crossed her forelegs over her face in frustration. “Aargh! I have no choice now! We cannot escape from her thus ill-prepared, an’ the feast must not be broken.” She slid her forelegs down her many eyes, rounding on him again. “Didst thou need to harvest the village entire in thy impatience? Thy gluttony?”
“They were ripe. Thy feeding had ended, thy migratory preparations begun at last. ‘Twas therefore my own feast which was at hand. I did but claim my right.”
“An’ yet hadst waited but a single day, or e’en fed more slowly, we might have hidden!”
A shrug. “Hunger begets little patience.”
“Patience enough to bring me this laggardly news,” she snarled. “An’ now thanks to thee, we have no time! Now we must needs fight her, prepared or no!”
“Ah,” he said, inclining his head again. “Then I have thy blessing.”
“Thou hast a thousand curses for thy ten thousand follies, thou arrogant whelp!” She screamed. “Go, then! Do as thou wilt, an’ see thou art the victor, on thy life!”
His laugh was a hollow sound, echoing and cruel. 
“Madame, ‘tis already won. The lady died the moment she entered our valley. Indeed, she died upon her mind’s own spear, a thousand year agone.”
He departed unhurriedly, metal moving against metal and stone. Then, silence.
Meanwhile, within his hammock, Bluebottle stirred fitfully. With a grace beyond that of any mortal creature, the Crimson Queen ascended on her nine legs to where Bluebottle’s protective orb hung, secure in her massive snow-colored web. 
“Shh, shh, shh... oh, there, there, my poor son,” she crooned, “I am here, oh, the dreams that must have given you, there, there… shh, my dear one, shhhhhhh…”
She stroked the outline of his cheek through its protective silk, rocking him from side to side, singing softly until he was still once more. Then, she turned her many eyes again to the cave’s entrance.
“Be victorious, child of mine flesh,” she whispered in the dark. “For thy sake, an’ for mine.”
> 5: Wake.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia navigated the streets with care. Below the loose-woven canopy she had seen before, there was a complex, maze-like structure spun throughout the village. 
In some places, a thick cottony strand might wind its way across and around a building or lamp pole, joining and supporting countless others, thick as mariner lines and tough as steel. In others, the silk had been woven into a plane, wide as a bedsheet. Sometimes the webbing blocked paths. Other times, it guided one path into another. On occasion, a large oval shape could be seen embedded in the thick overhead mass covering a two-story building, or hanging from the canopy above: a pony who had given in too soon, and had to be saved for later.  
Celestia never needed to stoop or bend her head as she made her way. The silken ropes and walls were meant to guide, not obstruct. She could see the webbing was created with care, continually added to and altered across the years the Crimson Queen had been feeding. Lovingly tended to, to better control the movements and lives of the ponies who lived in Voe Valley. Keeping them apart, keeping them locked in routine, even as every day she’d walked among and climbed above them. Feeding on their hearts while cloaked in illusion, guiding them to the end she had devised. 
Yet, Celestia stepped carefully. For, while doubtless some of the ponies had collapsed in their homes, many more lay on the streets. Mares, stallions, even some older foals. A few glanced briefly in her direction as she passed by, something vaguely akin to interest flickering across their eyes. Most, however, did not.
Upon entering the village, Celestia had tried to help the first ponies she’d seen. She’d cast a spell of purification, to excise any venom that might have kept them paralyzed. She’d tried infusing them with additional life force. She’d even risked a healing spell, hoping there was some injury, knowing even as she did that her efforts were in vain.
For there was nothing physically wrong with any of the ponies there. They were all completely capable of movement. They just didn’t see any point. They simply waited, all of them. Hearts emptied, souls all but drained, without even the will to wonder why. In the end, whether from thirst, hunger, or some roving beast, Celestia knew that eventually death would find them all. And when it did, they would simply let it happen. They had no reason to do otherwise.
And so, Celestia forced herself to remain focused on her surroundings, and on the task at hoof. So far as she knew, there was no way to heal the kind of spiritual damage the monsters had done to these ponies. Much as it hurt to acknowledge it, the fact remained that she was too late to save them, though of course she would try just the same. But her first priority had to be dealing with with the monsters that had done this, keeping them from spreading their deadly effect further.
In time, she wound her way through the village, emerging from the other side of its cottony prison. Then, she stopped, seeing the gleaming figure waiting in the distance. 
Her foe, it seemed, had found her first. 





Celestia advanced quickly, eager to have as much distance as possible between the village ponies and the battle that was about to begin. She knew who she beheld, of course. She remembered him all too well. 
Standing more upright than any diamond dog or minotaur, her foe was clad in silver armor so well-formed in its imitation of muscle and sinew it seemed almost a part of him. At the same time, its brilliant reflections only enhanced the fathomless void that lurked behind his helm’s closed visor. 
Upon his back was a pair of swords; one perhaps a meter long, the other nearly his own height. On his left arm, a flat, rectangular shield in which she could see her frowning visage perfectly. Behind him, more woods, now silent as a yawning grave. Before him, a village of soulless victims.
The Knight of Mirrors. 
For an instant, Celestia thought of avoiding him entirely. It would be an unexpected move, and might allow her to neutralize his mother more quickly. But he was too dangerous, to herself and the village, to leave behind her. 
Before, it had been Luna who had brought him low. Now, it would have to be her. Celestia steeled herself, remembering what little her sister had told her of their battle, so long ago.
Even in magic, he was more warrior than mage, Luna had said. And his webs were not like those of his dam, but of the mind. He sought to destroy me through refraction, and twisted reflections. He had a powerful mind. But I was the wiser.
So, combat magic and strategy. The first part was promising; the second, less so. And a mentalist of some kind, as well. Now that she faced the monster herself, Celestia silently wished she had pressed Luna for more detail. But her sister had seemed reluctant to speak of the battle. And Celestia had always assumed there would always be time later on. 
The monarch pushed the thought away. Luna had made his defeat sound easy. Hopefully, it would be.
“Celestia,” the Knight of Mirrors said. “Princess Celestia, as thy pawns call thee now.” He nodded, as if they were knights at tourney. “Ill met.”
She nodded as well, calculating, studying him even as she was studied by him. “Ill met indeed, Sir Knight.”
“Hast enjoyed our hospitality thus far, fair lady?”
“It was informative,” she said carefully.
“A trifle. ‘Tis thee who lies upon my platter now.”
“And I never sensed you, all this time,” She acknowledged. “You’ve gotten good at hiding, I’ll grant you that. Draining them slowly, were you? You’d never done that before, though it did let you feed undetected these last few years. I might never have even found you, if I hadn’t specifically looked. Tell me, did it thrill you, taking their spirits away, one drop at a time?”
“Nay. No more than a gourmet thrills at a meal of paltry courses. Weakened were we, ere we first emerged from our stony prisons. But patience gave us time, an’ with time came our strength again.”
Her eyes and wings flared, and the wind blew wild from behind her. “You dare to call this strength?”
“The wolf is e’er stronger than its prey.”
“Oh, yes,” she sneered. “Wolves. Remind me, what was it you were called before there were noble titles?”
“Whatever my prey feared most.”
She saw her own smirk in his breastplate and his shield. “No, I recall better than that. Even among the herds we met, you and your mother were not always unknown. ‘Red Wolf,’ wasn’t that what they called her? And you, what was it again…?”
“Sooth, we had few names,” he replied, unperturbed. “Most times was I the Reflecting Pool, betimes the Shade that Speaks. Mother was the Red Wolf, or the Wolf of Heart’s Blood. Yet our names were few, e’en then.” Something in that blackness might have smiled. “For few, indeed, e’er ‘scaped us to tell the tale. And now, in this new age thee an’ thine have written, we each need but one.”
“But how did you escape your confinement in the first place?” she demanded. “The Elements—”
His laugh interrupted her, echoing as though he were an empty bell of steel.
“The Elements of Harmony have been burned and broken, e’en as the ties to thine own flesh an’ blood were betrayed and discarded ages agone! Their powers forever lost to the world, their enchantments thereby subside.” 
His voice fell to a hungry growl as he continued, “An’ in that subsiding, a young soul came near. One with such light and purity that what was left of our jail crumbled before the onslaught of our hungers.
“We are only the first to set ourselves free, I think. Perhaps not e’en that.” 
He gestured to the dying behind her, saying, “Look around thee. See what thou an’ thy hubris have engraved into earth, stone an’ flesh. See thou thy world, an’ all thou might e’er love or treasure.”
Then, he brought his focus back to Celestia. She started, feeling for the first time the sheer power of his presence.
“Look well,” he intoned, “An’ looking, know’st this: that I am the end of it.”
For the barest moments, she almost believed him. Then:
“No!”
Her horn shone with the radiance of the sun as its rays fired out from her in a wide cone of golden light.
Her foe, of course, simply laughed, his armor reflecting all her scintillating power into the area around them.
But Celestia had been observing the Knight of Mirrors carefully as they had talked. And she had seen, among other things, that when he spoke his helm moved, ever so slightly. Thus, beyond that metal skin was a physical form. A form, by all appearances, which craved the impenetrable darkness within his helm.
Except that in Celestia’s experience, no darkness was impenetrable. 
Even as the Knight began laughing, Celestia focused all her power into the cone of sunlight she emitted… and then quickly tightened all its intensity into a narrow beam of white light and white heat, perfectly aimed through her enemy’s visor.
Contact only lasted a split-second, of course. He immediately snapped back his head in pain, staggering. Still, the high-pitched screech he let forth was very satisfying. It was nothing like a mammilian throat would make, more like the sound of steel claws carving through iron. But it was proof that the Knight could feel pain. And anything that could be hurt, she knew, could be defeated.
Yet, the Knight of Mirrors only moved back a few steps, falling expertly into a fighting stance, shield up, one-handed sword at the ready. He would not be taken unawares again. 
He held his sword up before his shield in brief, silent salute. 
She nodded, wings flared.
Then, they both leaped into battle. 





Celestia flew into the air, sending a bolt of sunfire against her foe. 
The Knight’s response was instant, his shield parrying the beam with a speed she hadn’t expected. Her attack reflected perfectly off its surface, arcing towards the village. 
Moving even faster now, she cast again, creating an emerald disc strong enough to completely block her own power. The solar flame struck the disc and dispersed.
But now she was on the defensive, and the Knight of Mirrors pressed his advantage. The Knight caught the sun’s rays on his shield, twisting their reflections to his will and sending them back again. Daggers of yellow light shot forth, slicing through the air like arrows. Celestia dove earthward again, even as the daggers changed course to follow her down.
As she descended, Celestia cast a net from her horn, green as ivy and bright as the promise of spring. It flew to and over the Knight, expanding as it did, drinking in the sun-daggers and becoming stronger from their light. 
Yet even before the net fell over him, the Knight sliced his sword across in a sideways-motion, the blade wavering as if cutting through water, the net parting and dissolving before it even touched his blade. Celestia heard the rush of refracted wind coming for her, and could almost see the wide, ever-expanding arc of hardened air he had sent towards her and the village behind her. 
Even for Celestia, there was not enough time to protect both herself and the ponies of Voe Valley.
Racing against the very wind, she enlarged and strengthened the disc she had created before, turning it into a dome. The dome almost immediately extended down into the earth, becoming a sphere, protecting the ponies within from any attack either above or below.
She heard the wind blade clash against her defenses, shattering into an angry gale across the width of the emerald shield, even as it cut deep into her own flesh and bone, driving her to her knees.
The Knight of Mirrors spoke, a cruel smile in his echoing voice. 
“First blood is mine.”
Celestia glared at him, her horn flashing. Suddenly, the Knight was suspended in the air, surrounded in a sphere of gold. 
The princess spat blood as she rose to her hooves again, feeling her severed ribs grind against one another, her barrel drenched a terrible red around and below her wound. With the merest thought, Celestia caused the golden orb to convulse inward slightly.
“Surrender,” she said.
Instead of replying, the Knight of Mirrors simply gripped his sword with both hands, driving its point down into the mystic shield surrounding him. 
With a start, Celestia felt his energies racing along her own like electricity through a copper wire, following her sympathetic connection with the shield she had created, back towards her own mind.
Celestia instantly broke the connection, and the Knight landed easily on the soft turf beneath him. 
Immediately, he struck the ground with his sword, a path of silvery shards thrusting up from the ground in a trail towards her.
Celestia took to the air, even as the shards exploded, sending mirrored shrapnel in all directions.
The Knight had just enough time to register that he had lost track of his foe in the blast when he felt himself struck from behind. With a sound like a giant brass gong, Celestia’s kick sent him hurtling and tumbling through the air. He barely kept hold of his blade and shield, his back striking the emerald dome an instant later with enough force to shatter his great sword in its sheath.
“You are well named, Sir Knight,” she said.
He rose, and inclined his head. “Princess,” he said. There was no mockery in his tone now.
She, of course, was already casting. Suddenly, the very stone beneath him was rising to encase him, to crush him if need be. 
With a speed and strength Celestia hadn’t thought possible, the Knight of Mirrors leaped out of his still-forming prison, hurtling towards her across the vast distance with his sword’s thrust aimed for her heart.
Yet, her eyes narrowed as he arced towards her. She had taken his measure. The Knight of Mirrors indeed relied upon reflection and refraction, on the strength he had stolen, and on how quickly he could employ his power. 
Well, then. It was time to teach her enemy the meaning of speed.
The wings of Princess Celestia flared out, a blazing corona of light as she vanished from view, even as the Knight was surrounded by a tornado of pale-colored wind. 
He was struck seven times before he hit the ground.
Nineteen more as he strove to rise to his feet, ricocheting in all directions, his battered armor continuing to dent and buckle.
Then he was airborne, careening from impact to impact, faster and faster, greater speed becoming greater and greater force. Thirty strikes. Fifty. A hundred. A thousand. There was no spell that could match such speed. No magic that could be woven in time to catch such rapidity. 
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the torrent of blows stopped. 
For the barest of instants, the combatants stared at one another. 
He, in armor no longer gleaming but badly dented, smoking, and charred, holding his sword outward in a horizontal thrust.
She, covered in her own blood, gasping for breath, her enemy’s blade plunged deep into her right lung.
Then, both of them fell back to earth. 





The Knight of Mirrors pulled himself to his feet with difficulty, leaning on his sword to do it. He staggered almost drunkenly, his breath labored, forcing himself to where his foe lay.
Princess Celestia managed to raise her head at the sound of his approach. The sharpened tips of her ribs had pierced several of her vitals when she’d fallen, and one of her lungs was rapidly filling with blood. The barest of movements flared with new pain, assuring her that, yes, her wings were both broken as well. 
She gritted her teeth. Ever since becoming an alicorn, she had been recovering from wounds at a phenomenal rate. And given time, she could magically enhance the process even further. 
But as the Knight of Mirrors approached, with cracked shield and scorched armor, it didn’t look like she was going to get that chance.
She struggled, cursing her damaged body. She tried to get onto her hooves again. Couldn’t.
He stood before her, obviously exhausted and injured himself, and nodded to her again. 
“For all my mockery, I apologize,” he said. “Thou wast truly a worthy foe. Yea, the greatest I have e’er faced.” 
With difficulty, he managed a bow. “Never have I understood the desire for trophies, ‘til now.”
While she looked up at him, her eyes blazing with fury, he raised his sword to catch the sun’s rays.
“I shall hang thy head in a place of honour,” he said. “Thy fame shall live forever, e’en though thou shalt not.”
He brought his weapon down, knowing the battle was won. 
Yet, even injured, Princess Celestia was able to whip her head to the side, blocking with her horn with such force that his blade shattered into a hundred fragments, sending him staggering back again.
“Do your worst, monster,” she panted. “I’ll never yield! Not to you, not to anypony else!” She gasped for breath, blood running freely from her mouth, her nose, her open wound. “I’ll never stop fighting! Never!”
The Knight of Mirrors’ shoulders seemed to suddenly sag. “Oh, fuck my uncle,” he said.
Celestia blinked. “…What?”
But her foe just shook his head, dropping his sword hilt, tossing away his shield. “I am just so done with this romantic bullshit.”
Celestia struggled to get back to her hooves. For whatever reason, the Knight was lowering his defenses, and this was a perfect opportunity to strike… but she fell again to her knees with a gasp. She could defend herself, but not yet attack. Meanwhile, the Knight had pulled something from his belt.
“Here,” he said.
Looking up, she saw he was holding a rectangular card in his hand, showing it to her as if it were some magical talisman.
But it had no glyphs or runes of any sort. Instead, embossed upon its white surface in crisp, black letters were the words:

Janus Knight


Oneirology Retrieval

At a loss, she looked up again at her enemy. But his armour was shifting, falling away into beads of light. Below it was revealed a green-skinned biped with silvery hair and mustache, both neatly trimmed. He wore close-fitting garments of white, with boots and a belt with many pouches.
A uniform, she thought. He’s a human, wearing a uniform. But… how? Did he somehow come in through one of Star Swirl’s mirrors? Is that possible? No, it’s some kind of technician’s suit, like in a hospital…
Wait, how do I know that?  
“Just try to relax,” he said. His expression was tired, but kind. “There are subliminal images on the card designed to start the memory process, but you’ve still got a lot to work through. Because holy crap,” he shook his head with a rueful smile, “You were a tough one.”
She shook her own head violently, trying to clear it. So many memories were suddenly assailing her mind. “A tough... what?”
“Client,” he answered. “Look, don’t try to fight it, you’ll just disorient yourself. You’ve been trapped in this fantasy for a long time. Strongest one I’ve ever seen. It’s no shock you’re still having a hard time. But that’s okay, we’ll get through this.”
She stared at him, suddenly uncertain. “We?”
He nodded. “That’s right. You see, plenty of people have imaginary lives they’ll play in, even half live in. A lot of kids do, sure… but some adults do, too. It’s how they cope with the dreariness of their day-to-day lives. Sometimes, it’s how they escape trauma, or guilt. Regardless, a lot of them use magical thinking, or imagine having some other kind of power they don’t have in real life, or fantasize about the kinds of relationships their own lives can’t give them. And most of the time, it’s harmless. 
“But every once in a while, somebody falls in.”
She blinked. “Do… do they?”
“You know they do,” he said gently. 
He reached down to her, clasped her hands in his own. He pulled her to her feet. She stared down at herself in confusion, at her wrinkled hands and feet and the limbs that supported them, at her pale, ancient, nude form.
“But…” She managed. “But… I’m an alicorn.”
“No, ma’am,” he said softly. “You’re as human as I am. As everyone is.”
“No… no, I’m a princess…” She felt nauseous, two sets of memories clashing with one another. Her legs buckled, and he helped her gently return to her knees before she fell. 
“I raise the sun every morning,” she whispered, staring at her shaking hands. “I lower it at night. This can’t be. I’m Celestia, chosen ruler of ponykind! I’m…”
“Your name is Cindy List,” he corrected her, standing again. “You were a teacher at the Canterlot School for Gifted Children. You never married, you have no children. But…” he took a breath, and then said, “You had a sister.”
She looked up at him, blinked back tears. “Luna.”
“Lucy,” he corrected her. “Luna was her character. You used to play together, as children. You were a unicorn, she was a pegasus. You had adventures, saved worlds, built and safeguarded civilizations. But then, there was the accident.”
“I remember now,” she choked. 
“You were dropping her off at school, before heading on to college.” 
“We’d had a fight, that damned boyfriend of hers…”
He nodded. “She opened the vehicle door, and ran out into the street.”
Cindy covered her face, her shoulders wracked with sobs.
“The driver that hit her got a prison sentence,” he said, crouching next to her. “But that didn’t help Lucy. After three days, the doctors pronounced her coma as irreversible, though her pregnancy was still viable.” He put a hand on her trembling shoulder. “You blamed yourself for her condition, for everything that had happened. And, you retreated further into fantasy.
“Several times a week, you visited Lucy in the hospital. You sang to her, read to her. Told her stories. When she gave birth to your nephew, still in a coma, you were there. You helped arrange for family to adopt the child. You finished school, got your degree. Dedicated yourself to teaching and helping children. To all appearances, you were engaged in post-traumatic growth. Everybody thought you were coping. 
“But in reality… you were falling. 
“It took several years. But eventually, the fantasy became stronger than the reality. You’ve been trapped here ever since, a prisoner of your own guilt. Forever waiting for a Nightmare Moon who will never come, waiting to face and make amends to a sister who will never wake up.”
He stood, pressing a stud on his wrist. “Doctor Chandra? I’ve got her. I think we should be able to start the waking process pretty soon, without risk of shock. Would you have everyone get prepped, please?”
She looked up at him, eyes devoid of hope. “Waking process?”
He nodded. “You’ve been in a pseudo-comatose state for years. Modern medicine allows us to monitor the dream state, even access it to a limited degree. But trying to force you awake could have caused you severe trauma, maybe irreversibly. So, meeting you within the terms of your fantasy - and getting you to see the truth from within it - was the only safe way to bring you home.
“And, now, we’re just about there.” He looked down into her eyes. “Lucy passed on, years ago. You’re beyond the working age now, and your nephew’s too busy with his own kids to take you in. After all, with the atrophy from so many years in a pseudo-coma, there’s no way you won’t stay bedridden. But we can put you up in the Assisted Living wing. We’ll take good care of you, for however long you’ve got left.”
He extended his hand to her. “Come on, Cindy. You’re an adult. You know that every fantasy comes to an end. Every dream dies.”
He smiled. 
“It’s time to wake up.”
She lowered her head.
Then, she looked up at him from beneath her brows with hard, determined eyes. Her legs thrust her forward with all her might, ramming her horn through his damaged breastplate and into something hard and yielding behind it. 
Even as the Knight of Mirrors screamed, the very sound setting her teeth on edge, she poured all her remaining strength into her horn and through it, channeling all the light and heat of the sun itself into her foe. His scream became more high-pitched, as golden sunfire burst out from his armor along every seam. Then there was a roar of conflagration, and he was torn apart from within, the entire area engulfed in a great explosion of white-hot flame.
Smoke obscured everything for several moments. But, slowly, the wind wafted the smoke away. Celestia lay in the crater she had made, weakened from the exertion, but alive and continuing to gradually heal. All around her lay the remains of the Knight of Mirrors. Fragments of blackened chitin, some twisted scraps of charred metal. Here and there a misshapen insectoid limb, too many and too varied in shape and size for any normal arachnid. 
And still, she could feel the strands of psychic webbing he had woven within her mind, slowly falling away from around her soul.
“Bastard,” she wheezed through gritted teeth. “You… bastard. Ugh.”
Shuddering, she crawled up to the crater’s edge. After a more few minutes, she forced herself to stand, however unsteadily. 
In the distance, a bird began to sing.
Then, slowly, but gaining more surety with every step, Celestia set off after the Crimson Queen.
> 6: As the World Falls Down.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia frowned as Star Swirl approached. Glancing at her sister, she saw Luna’s eyes mirroring her own concern. It had been months since she or her sister had heard from the old unicorn. First their student, then later their mentor, he had always been a pony of confidence and might, growing with time into the fullness of his power and wisdom.
Yet, now he seemed… diminished. The years no longer seemed to empower him, but rather lay upon his shoulders as a regrettable burden.
They had been preparing tea for the three of them in the north garden of their castle. The sun was only just set, the moon yet to rise, and Star Swirl had sent a missive asking to see the two sisters at dusk. Of course they had agreed at once; it had been too long since they’d seen their old friend.
Celestia rose, approaching him with an uncertain gentleness. “Star Swirl? Whatever is the matter?”
“Please,” Luna added, rising as well, “How can we aid thee?”
Star Swirl only looked at them both with eyes tired and filled with regret. “I asked you here this evening, so that I might say goodbye.”
“What?” the sisters exclaimed together. They exchanged a glance of astonishment before rushing to him.
“No!” exclaimed Celestia. 
“Whatever distresses thee, we can help!” Luna added.
But looking down, Star Swirl slowly shook his head, no.
“Have you not heard?” he asked sadly. “Of Stygian? Of the enchantment he cast?” He would not look at them, only said, “Of the price he paid for my failure, as a magician and as his friend?”
“Of course we have,” Luna exclaimed. “And we mourn his passing, and everything that led to it. But, his death was his mistake, not thine!”  
“Please, old friend. Thou cannot hold thyself responsible for such a decision,” Celestia added. “Though it pains me to say it, Stygian made his own choice, however much it grieves us all.”
But Star Swirl only gave a humorless, dry chuckle. “Thus speak too quickly the ideals of youth,” he said. 
Celestia frowned in sorrow, and Luna gave an expression of heartbreak as they both approached. 
“Oh, Star Swirl,” Luna sighed. “We saw thee enter thy studies as a young foal. We mentored thee, watched thee grow.”
“Yet, when didst thou become so much older than we?” Celestia added sadly.
Star Swirl’s voice was soft as he said, “One mistake at a time, my dears.”
Then, he sighed. “In any case. Though he made his choice alone, I cannot refute my deeds which drove him to such aloneness. Nor, indeed, can my fellow Pillars. And thus, we are sundered. In truth, that fellowship lay broken well before Stygian’s Lament was even cast. It only took such lengths for us to see it.”
There were several moments of silence. Then, quietly, Luna asked, “Where wilt thou go?”
“I know not. I know only that I cannot stay. It is a terrible thing that I have done. That I led the Pillars to do. Everything in the world that Stygian loved now speaks his name to me, begging for a forgiveness that he cannot hear. And thus, they accuse me – and rightly so – with a voice I cannot silence. Even the stars have lost their wonder.” He glanced towards the castle, adding, “I have many mirrors. I need but one.”
With difficulty, Celestia asked, “Wilt thou return to us, someday?”
At last, the old unicorn raised his head, his face betraying a sad smile. “I don’t know,” he said. “But if I can, I will.”
With a rustling of wings the sisters embraced him fiercely. After the briefest hesitation, he returned the embrace. Star Swirl had never been one for hugs, even with them, even as a foal. But he could hardly deny them now.
When they separated at last, he looked at them fondly. “Sentimental, as always,” he gave a sad smile. “Perhaps that was the one lesson I should have learned better from you both, so long ago. But in any case,” he added a little briskly, “there is tea cooling, and a beautiful evening to share before I depart. And a final lesson, if you will indulge me one last time.”
The sisters sat with him, Luna’s deep blue magic surrounding the teapot as she poured. “Of course,” she said.
“Very good. I cannot say for certain that my researching this was wisdom or folly on my part. I left off my final project to create it, and now I shall never…” he shook himself. “But regardless, I wanted to share with you what I had found, though it cost me dear. You may find ways to build on this last bit of research, turn it into something useful. Navigating dreams, perhaps. Finding shape shifters. Putting ghosts to rest.” He shrugged. “Who knows.”
Celestia and Luna exchanged a puzzled look, then looked back to him again. “What is it?” Luna asked.
“A truth spell. A powerful one, as such things go.” He sighed again. “Admittedly basic in its construction. Easy to build on. And a costly one, as well. Not that it requires much strength to cast per se. But it doesn’t just detect lies and illusions, it destroys them utterly.” 
While Luna blanched, Celestia only looked puzzled. “But, isn’t that a good thing?”
Star Swirl shook his head as he took a sip, saying, “Believe me, some illusions are worth keeping.” He looked away, then went on, “I therefore advise you strongly: use it as a basis of further research. But please, never share it, or cast it yourselves.” 
“But…”
Star Swirl sighed as he held up a hoof to forestall Celestia’s protests. “Remember that magic is often its own price, my dear. I cast the spell only once, hoping to find answers regarding Stygian’s fate. And in that much, I was more than successful. 
“But I’m still not certain if it was worth what I paid.” 





Bloody and aching, Celestia stood at the cavern entrance. Her head was lowered and ready for battle, her wounds only marginally healed. But she dared not risk her final enemy fleeing, to hide again and continue her feeding elsewhere. No matter the cost, the Crimson Queen’s threat would end today.
“No!” the monster hissed from the high ceiling above. “It’s not possible! Where is he?!?”
Celestia’s eyes were hard as she looked up at the monster, stepping into the cave. “Which part?”
The Crimson Queen dropped down to the floor, her nine legs rhythmically dancing as she circled the alicorn. Only the floor was clear from her snow-colored strands, thick and dangerous. They formed a great dome above the combatants, with occasional sheets of cobwebbing hanging down like curtains. 
“Pony suckling,” the Queen snarled. “You can’t have killed the Knight of Mirrors! He told me how weakened your spirit had become! How could you even fight, without hope?!?”
“Because in a sense, that’s all I was doing for centuries,” Celestia replied, also circling, wings half-unfurled. “I only recently found hope again. I didn’t even know I had, until today.” 
Her mouth formed the thinnest of smiles. “My hope is young. And small. And she is brilliant in her wonder.”
Then Celestia’s eyes narrowed again. “And there is no way I’ll stop fighting for her. Not ever. Especially against the likes of you.”
“But even so, you can’t have escaped his web,” the Queen insisted, scores of eyes staring with hate. “You have no power of the mind…!”
“I’m not my sister, that’s true.” Celestia admitted as they continued their mutual orbit. “I can’t see thoughts, or walk into dreams. And the Knight’s false memories were expertly crafted, reaching back to childhood, even as he played his role to perfection. 
“But my true memories are more precise than any counterfeit, and I can remember being born.” 
The princess shook her head slightly. “He was a powerful foe, and my heart still aches from what he did. But in the end, he never really had a chance.”
Still circling, the Queen raised her front legs up, their bladed tips glowing a deadly green.
“Neither do you,” said Celestia. 
Slowly, the tips lowered again.
“I’m giving you this one opportunity. Just surrender.” Celestia met the Queen’s many-eyed stare with her own. “Let me take you back alive. I’d rather have you imprisoned than dead.”
The Crimson Queen’s many eyes narrowed as she stopped. “No,” she said. “Never again. Death first.”
The Princess simply nodded, her expression grim. “So be it.”





There was no preparation for battle. No salute or pretense of gentility. 
The Crimson Queen began with a blast of ice, breathed out from her misshapen mouths in a cone of frozen death. Celestia simply teleported across the cavern to evade the blast… then stopped, her eyes wide, staring behind herself with a gasp.
The cave was not as wide as it had seemed. Her tail was caught, phased into the very rock of the cavern wall. Either luck or her foe’s intentions had saved her from entombing herself in stone... but not from surrounding herself in the arachnid’s webbing. Every part of her was entangled: her mane, her wings, her coat. Every motion only caught her in her enemy’s trap further. 
And she had seen none of it. Not even a hint.
Meanwhile, she could feel the web draining her of love, her heart feeding her enemy’s strength. She could hear the Crimson Queen’s shriek of victory as the monster closed in on her with an eerie grace, salivating as she did.
Closing her eyes, Celestia called upon her own, innate power. There was a ripple of heat, and the webbing surrounding her burst into flame, its fire quickly going out as it shriveled. Her own fire, of course, remained. She was free, now, the stone behind her having broken and split from her power. 
But the cavern and the Queen were gone, as was the web she’d spun. Celestia stood alone, a torch in an abyss of endless darkness, illuminating nothing. Still, the pull upon her soul had stopped. Great was the power of the Crimson Queen, but even she could not feed upon a heart of flame. And certainly, even unseen, she would dare not strike physically against a being of living sunfire.
Celestia looked around herself with eyes that burned. In this form, she had soared through the darkness of space, and even entered the sun itself. Scarcely daring to move, she focused her will to a razor’s keenness, seeking out the falsehood surrounding her.
And found… nothing.
Her illusions were never this powerful before! Celestia thought. I can’t dispel them, I can’t see through them! She’s more powerful than ever, but how is that possible in such a short time-- 
No, Celestia realized. No, she’s not. She’s drawing on another source of power, almost certainly hidden in her web. 
But what?
And then, suddenly, Celestia understood.
Of course. Not what. Who.
That changed everything. This was no longer a simple battle, it was also a rescue.
I can do this, Celestia thought. Even with her newfound power source. I can take her down and free her prisoner at the same time. 
The smart tactic would be to just out-maneuver me. Take her time, trick me into defeating myself. So, I’ve got to make her use her magic rashly. Keep her off-balance, keep her angry, Keep her spending her power. 
Rockhoof always said that an angry fighter was a losing fighter. Hopefully, he was right.
“I can see the concern in your eyes,” the Crimson Queen purred. “The fear.”
“I’ve never been afraid of bugs,” Celestia said casually, looking all around her. The abyss was gone, but so was any sense of flooring or direction. Stars, planets and their moons orbited lazily around her as she drifted through space. None of it was real, off course. But where was she? Where was the Queen? Were they still in the cavern? On a cliff side? If Celestia flared her power, hoping to burn her enemy, would her captive burn as well? 
“Liar.” The Crimson Queen’s voice was a venomous whisper echoing from all directions. “Oh, you may not fear for yourself. But we both know now I’m too strong for you, and you fear for what will happen after your death. Still, there’s no need. I have no intention of killing you.”
“Oh,” Celestia said as she circled cautiously. She had to stay wary. For all she knew, even her own flames might be an illusion now. “Of course. After how easily I handled you before, I suppose you’ll want to hear me scream. Your kind usually does.”
Celestia’s horn glowed a light blue as she forced her will against the Crimson Queen’s illusions, even as she searched for any flaw that she could use to unravel their effects upon her mind. She found none. Her horn still ablaze, she cast a spell to destroy every illusion around her. Frowning, she did so again, putting all her power behind the spell.
Nothing.
“Will you scream, little pony?” the Crimson Queen asked.
Celestia forced herself to shrug, hating herself a little as she spoke. “Your son certainly did.”
The Queen did not reply in words. Celestia found herself suddenly flesh again, in a crystal-lined cavern. She was surrounded by stalactites and stalagmites, black fire bursting coldly from the ground as acid rained down upon her in curtains, eating her mouth, skin, and eyes. Gasping through clenched teeth, Celestia desperately tried to dispel the illusion again. This time, she could feel the overwhelming force of the illusion righting itself against her as her flesh was eaten away from her bones. Her eyes were gone, her senses destroyed save for her pain, her organs dissolving away.
Well, she thought vaguely, that certainly worked.
Then, she was on a white beach, gasping and whole. Brilliant green water gently lapped on the sands nearby, its brine stinging a thousand wounds.
“The release of death is not for you,” the Queen whispered. “After all, with Discord and your sister both gone, I know it is your power alone that maintains the heavens. 
“Therefore… I will subdue you.” 
With a grunt of pain, Celestia found herself in a northern tundra, the wind whipping thousands of ice fragments into her skin. She gave another blue flash of magic, and again the illusion remained. She could smell the storm on the wind, smell her own blood. How much was illusion? How much was real? How much of the damage she took was from her own mind? It was impossible to know. She could also feel herself weakening, her energy levels depleting far more rapidly than they should have.
I’m in her web again, she thought. Impossible! Unless… the drain itself is another illusion?
But she dismissed the thought immediately. No. She wouldn’t expect me to be able to sense such things. I couldn’t before. That much, at least, must be real. Which means she’s trying to end this quickly. However she forced me to shift forms, it must have exhausted her.
Indeed, Celestia could also hear the hunger in the Queen’s voice as she went on, “You will remain in my web, paralyzed, encased in my power so that I may draw upon your own. I will rule the sun and moon for all time, until and unless I find the way to devour your magic completely. Then, and only then, shall you be allowed to die.
“Until then, you will live. A half-awake meal entombed in my larder, to punish and feed from again and again. Forever.”
Celestia shuddered, still pressing with her mind and magic against the arachnid’s creations. Several times, she could feel the Queen’s illusions re-assert themselves against her, feel her foe faltering, then drawing more and more on her captive.
That’s right, she thought. Keep spending that power. Prove your superiority. Overwhelm me. Crush me. Spare no expense. There is more to magic than simple power. And this time, of the two of us I am the more experienced.
“You should have yielded yourself to the Knight of Mirrors,” the arachnid’s voice gloated. Celestia was somewhere deep undersea now, water bursting her lungs, the pressure crushing her from all directions as her horn still flared a brilliant, desperate blue. Something from the abyss below was rising towards her, massive, the size of a palace, its many spined tentacles eager to rend and tear.
It looked at Celestia with the Crimson Queen’s eyes. “Your fate would have been the same, but you would never have known,” the monster said. “It would have been kinder. Instead, now you will fall to me.”
Celestia swallowed. This was the creature’s finishing move. It was now, or never at all. 
“No,” she said. “I won’t.”
And, reaching into the last of her magical reserves, Celestia cast the truth spell that Star Swirl had taught her, so many years ago. 
It was, as he had said, simple. And, also as he had said, it required an astonishingly low level of strength for what it did. Which was just as well, since Celestia had almost no strength left. Blending it with her own fiery energy was a simple matter as well, lending the spell a physical effect. But Celestia had misunderstood the spell’s true power, despite Star Swirl’s warning. 
For, by its very nature, truth must start from within. 
Her target had been her surroundings. The cavern, the Crimson Queen, the Queen’s webbing and all within it. But against her will, Celestia felt the spell plunge down through her horn, through her brain and into her mind, into her heart and then into her very soul. It was merciless, and, once begun, could not be stopped. Terror gripped her anew as she fell into her memories, helpless before the onslaught of her own magic. It seized onto the furnace of her soul, amplifying itself in her flame, even as time around her ground to a halt. 





She had been half-prepared to face what she had always hated to admit, even to herself: that as Luna had continued to grow into her power, Celestia had come to fear her, even as she had always loved her. That fear was something Luna had to have known, had to have seen growing throughout their lives. And yes, Celestia’s fear had surely helped lead her baby sister into the isolation and despair that had, in turn, led to Nightmare Moon’s creation. It was merely one more reason Celestia had blamed herself for her dearest one’s transformation, as the centuries had slowly passed by.
Yet, both Luna and Celestia, across their long lives together, had somehow gradually become their magic. Even while remaining ponies, they had evolved, more and more, into what they had made themselves to be. 
So, what was Nightmare Moon, truly? Luna had taken on a similar form many times, in battle and in war. She was a creature of shadow and dream, after all, even as Celestia was a mare of light and day. To one such as Luna, a living guide through the mind’s symbolic realities and labyrinthine metaphors, was such a transformation truly a change at all? 
How could it be?
When the dust had settled after Luna’s banishment, and she’d stood surrounded by the Elements’ burnt-out remains, Celestia had also stood at a crossroads. She could have stopped trying, simply become aloof, cold and distant. And she would have become so, in all possible ways: a white stone-like figure to worship and obey.
It certainly would have been easier. It would have hurt her less, even while hurting everypony else more. Yielding to her despair and allowing it to cocoon her in a safe numbness, free from doubt, worry, or thought. She could have stopped growing, stopped trying to live, and simply been. Falling asleep, in a very real sense, inside the porcelain armor of her own despair.
Would she, then, have stopped being Celestia?
In some ways, yes. But even in that half-slumber, she would never have become somepony else, for all that she would have also not been her whole self. And ultimately, the choice had been hers and hers alone.
In the epicenter of Star Swirl’s final enchantment, Celestia gasped, feeling her heart truly break.
For the truth was, no matter what Celestia’s mistakes had been towards her sibling – and she saw them all now, more painfully, scathingly clear than ever before – Luna was not her baby sister. She hadn’t been, in fact, for a very long time. Luna was a grown mare, and had made her own choices.
The sadness Luna had battled against all her life might have devoured her at last, but it was her sadness just the same. The decisions she’d made had been influenced heavily by the divide between the two sisters, true. But they were still her decisions, and hers alone. Neither innocent nor pure, she was not a helpless victim in any sense. 
And she never had been.
Did you really expect me to sit idly by, while they all basked in your precious light?!?
She had never been transformed by Celestia’s neglect and blindness. Nor had she fallen prey to any outside force.
There can only be one princess in Equestria! And that princess… will be ME!
THIS
Luna? I am… Nightmare Moon!
WAS
I have but one royal duty, now… to destroy you!
LUNA
The cavern filled with a blinding silver-gold light. Celestia screamed in agony as the truth spell tore its way out from her heart like a supernova, blazing through everything around her. The Crimson Queen’s illusions shattered into nothingness, even as the webbing that filled the cavern shriveled and was burned away along with the remaining darkness. 
Behind her illusions, the Crimson Queen had been industrious indeed. Yes, Celestia’s heart had been untouchable while she’d maintained her fiery form. But, having painstakingly bound Celestia in layer upon layer of enchanted webbing, the Crimson Queen had finally been able to ground out enough of Celestia’s magic to force her back into her flesh-and-blood self. The arachnid had been hanging above the alicorn mere seconds away from sinking her fangs into Celestia’s throat. Her forelegs held the cocoon secure on all sides, droplets of venom gently staining its silk as her compound mandibles worked in anticipation. 
Now, she was thrown against a far wall, the force of Celestia’s gambit severing and tearing away the flow of her stolen power. What little magic remained to her she spent surrounding herself in a greenish shield before impact, partially shattering the stone behind her even as she weathered out the storm of light and truth.
Celestia, meanwhile, saw the thick orb of web that had held her motionless to the floor burning away, freeing her from the prison she had not been able to see or feel. She rose to her hooves again, no longer strong enough to take her sunfire form, but more determined than ever to see her enemy fall.
Bluebottle, son of Mira Pisaurina and village reject, woke as he fell from his disintegrating hammock with a startled cry, his location revealed at last.  
But it was Mi Amore Cadenza, daughter to Princess Radiant Hope and rightful Heir to the Crystal Empire, who pulled herself to her hooves, disoriented and shaking.
The Crimson Queen screamed as she stumbled towards the filly. “No! Give me back my son!”
In a burst of light Celestia was suddenly there, between them. Head lowered, panting, yet with her horn dangerously aglow. “She was never your son!”
Mi Amore stared past the alicorn at the huge arachnid in confusion. “Mother? No,” she blinked, “No, that’s…” She shook her head violently, trying to clear it. “That’s not right…”
“Murderer! I’ll kill you!” the Queen screeched, her forelegs glowing with sickly green fire. “I’ll eat you alive, you murdering twist!”
Celestia’s horn blazed. “Then you’ve left me little choice!”
Both women were horribly weakened by their wounds, their strengths all but spent. Yet they lurched at one another with a fury born from sheer desperation. The Queen’s bladed legs slashed downwards at her enemy, injuring a wing, even as Celestia buffeted her with the other. A kick from an ivory forehoof closed a few of the Crimson Queen’s eyes. 
Celestia parried another strike from those terrible blades with her horn, the Queen immediately lunging at her throat with her compound mouths, her many poisoned mandibles working furiously. They exchanged their blows, stumbled apart, then lunged at one another again, each determined with the last of her strength to bring her enemy down.
“Stop!”
It was a near thing, each combatant pulling away at the last second from the pink filly who had leaped between them. So great was their exhaustion that each had to stagger back for a moment, to avoid striking her. Meanwhile, Mi Amore stood between them, facing down Celestia in defiance, wings protectively unfurled.
“Foolish hatchling!” the Queen hissed. “Get out of the way!”
“Mi Amore, move!” Celestia cried. “She’s too dangerous!”
But the young princess shook her head wildly. “No! I won’t let you do this!” She looked over her shoulder into the many eyes of the Crimson Queen, adding softly, “Either of you.”
The Crimson Queen slowly lowered her forelegs, their terrible glow receding, her many eyes staring in astonishment. “What?”
Princess Cadenza faced Celestia once more, her eyes beginning to glow a brilliant blue. “I said no! No more!” 
For a moment, Celestia frowned, and the Queen’s eyes blazed with victory. Each knew, in that instant, that the Lost Princess had sided with the very one who had been using her for so long. 
And they were, each of them, very, very wrong.
“I said no more!” The filly cried again. The azure glow of her magic suddenly filled the chamber: a tangible, living, breathing force pressing into and through both her elders, forcing them back. 
“No more hate! No more lies!”
The Crimson Queen reared up, stretching her limbs skyward, laughing and screaming all at once. This! This was what she had always craved, always been denied! The power of it was blinding, deafening, ecstatic and terrible, searing away her soul’s shadows with an agony that paled in comparison to its glory.
“No more hopelessness!” Mi Amore screamed. “No more fear! No more death!”  
Celestia shielded her face against the foal’s brilliance, then looked away. She had looked into the heart of the sun many times, but this was a different light. And though it caused her eyes no pain, its purity was more than she could bear.
“No more!”
The Crimson Queen could feel herself burning from the very power she had sought for so long. She did not care. She would have paid such a price a thousand times over, for such rapture. She was blazing in the fire of a soul stronger than her own, burning, dying, even as that same fire strove to make her whole, to keep her hearts beating, to embrace her and make her into something greater than she was and could never be.
“NO MORE!”
Celestia could feel her wounds healing, her exhaustion gone, her heart and mind lighter and clearer, freer from shadow than they had been in a thousand years. She could sense the ponies of the village, as the light of Mi Amore’s heart flooded the valley and beyond. It enveloped them, dissolving away the webbed strands that surrounded them, waking them, sending them blinking, staggering to their hooves, breathing in the young princess’ magic in wonder.
“NO MORE!!”
And then, for Princess Mi Amore, the world fell away in a flash of light and astonishment. 





It was reminiscent, in a sense, of her menarche, even as it was also like when she’d gotten her cutie mark. Yet, it was unlike them both; more complete, more all-encompassing. She was in a strange void that had no coldness, no warmth, no fullness or absence… a universe that was herself, somehow, even as it crashed against and through her, soul, body, and mind. 
Images assailed her of her past. Life in the palace. Life in the cave. Some of them her memories, others as if seen by someone else. She was filled with a strange pain that somehow didn’t quite hurt, as her mind drifted back to when her mother had tried to describe giving birth to her, when she was a little filly. 
Yes, a presence said gently. You are giving birth to yourself.
Yet, there was no sound, how could she hear anything? No light, how was she seeing? And everything was so overwhelming, so powerful! Terrified, Mi Amore began to panic, feeling all the possibilities of her transformation twisting around her in her fear. She was drowning in an ocean of herself, what might have been and yet could be. And with that fear, the ocean grew angry, its tides tearing at her within and without.
Mi Amore, listen to me. It’s alright, the voiceless voice said. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here for you. I went through this, and so did Luna. I’m here for you. You’re going to be alright.
Princess Celestia? she thought.
Yes. Remember what Radiant Hope taught you. Remember the Crystal Heart. This is another magic, and while it’s both deep and powerful, it’s also one you started. Don’t try to fight it. Move with it, as it moves through you. Allow yourself to be more of who you are, and who you could be. Allow yourself to Become.
But, I don’t understand!
In truth, neither do I.
Mi Amore could see Princess Celestia near her now, the older mare’s smile loaning her new confidence. 
But I’ll be here with you, dear one, every step of the way. I promise.
Intangibly, Mi Amore nodded. She relaxed, feeding herself into her transformation. Her spirit concaved into itself like a lens, focusing her into herself, even as her true self exploded outward like a newborn star.  
And yet, even as she was being reborn, she felt a third presence, as well. Mi Amore could see the tethers that had pulled the Crimson Queen into this strange place-without-a-place, the bonds forged between them across the years through their constant energy exchange. Through magic… and through something else, as well.
Ignoring Celestia’s pleas of caution, Mi Amore sent her awareness across the bonds of love that existed between herself and the spider-like creature nearby.
And so, now it ends, the monster sighed. I think, in my heart, I must have wanted you to be found. How else can I explain my greatest enemy coming to my door, braving me in my own haven? I could have devoured you, ended you, a thousand times over. Not as profitable in terms of power, perhaps. But it would have been safer. Wiser. Yet, somehow, I never did.
Desperately, Mi Amore reached out to her across their link.
No! she cried. It doesn’t have to be like this! Look at me, look at what I’m doing! You could do this, too! Whatever your life was before, you could become something new, become what you should have always been, what you could have been if things had been different--!
But Mira seemed to turn her gaze away from her. At least, she seemed to be partly Mira. Parts of her were the Crimson Queen, as well. But all of her was dying.
No, child of my heart. You gave me love. And for a little while, you helped me pretend that I was more than I am. I was even happy, sometimes. But you cannot give me life, as well. I see that now. And I am so tired, too tired to become something I am not.
Mi Amore reached out to her, tried to bring her closer. Please! I can save you!
No, you can’t. I am too old. It is too late.
But--! 
Please, dear heart. Mira’s words were a gentle caress. I can’t. Please. Just, remember me as I might have been… and let it happen.





Mi Amore reappeared in the cavern, Princess Celestia beside her, her ordeal completed. Celestia started to smile, then stopped. Mi Amore only looked at her with eyes full of tears, then over to the corpse of the creature she had called ‘Mother’ for the last four years of her life, its battered and singed body half-metamorphed into a pupa-like shape, its legs slowly curling under it. 
Celestia looked down at the foal before her. “I’m sorry,” she said. 
Mi Amore stepped to her, and Celestia hugged her tightly.
For a moment, the cave was silent.
Then, there was a slow, wet, scraping sound from the corpse of the Crimson Queen. Both alicorns looked over from their embrace, only to freeze in sheer horror.
Part of the pupal casing was sloughing off from the arachnid’s corpse, coalescing itself as it detached. The incomplete mass of limbs and chitin pulled and drew into itself the Queen’s few still-living organs, mewing, struggling to survive. The one remaining heart, its three chambers pulsing unevenly in its own ichorous glow. A lung, glistening blue and grey. A few other crippled organs, their purposes unguessed-at.
The thing fell onto the stone floor, finally shedding itself free from the once-living carcass even as it finished sucking into itself the few intact vitals that remained. It staggered drunkenly on its four remaining legs as its carapace sealed around it, insect-like wings pulling themselves free from its dripping caul of gore. It was a mockery of an alicorn foal, smaller than Mi Amore, jagged and incomplete, its long blue mane matted and slick against its face and throat. And when it opened its eyes at last, it looked upon them both with a mad hatred.
“You,” it rasped.
Celestia stepped in front of Mi Amore, and addressed the thing. “Creature, you are plainly not the Crimson Queen. We have no quarrel with you—”
The thing’s laughter was wet and foul.
“Oh, no,” it hissed through a mouthful of fangs. “You have no quarrel with me. You slew her child, shattered her ambitions, took away all she had built and longed for. And then, not satisfied with merely destroying her, you made her love you for it!”
It took in a rattling breath, then went on, “And then, even as she reeled from your final blow, you dragged her through the revelation of all she might have been and could never be, murdering her in the process.
“No, why indeed should you have quarrel with the chrysalis that remains, when you still have the bones of a queen to dance upon!”
The thing’s eyes narrowed as it looked upon the exhausted pair, then focused exclusively upon Mi Amore. The young princess shrank behind Celestia as the thing spat the last of its birthing ichor from its mouth.
“I will destroy everything you hold dear,” it vowed, green eyes burning into the terrified young mare. “I will turn everything you love against you. I will take away every heart’s dream you have ever known. And only then, only when all love is lost and all hope is gone from your soul… I will feel the life drain out of you!”
Princess Celestia sent forth an arc of golden fire, but the creature gave a wing-assisted leap upwards, avoiding the blast. Immediately, Celestia sent another spell, emerald tendrils of spiraling energy at her foe, hoping to contain it. But the thing had apparently inherited at least some of the Crimson Queen’s cunning. It crouched against the wall for the barest of instants before leaping over their heads, evading the spell in a barrel roll and flying on its new cicada wings into the forest, vanishing completely.
Celestia was already in motion, wings unfurled, determined to end this once and for all, when Princess Cadenza threw her arms around the older mare’s neck. “No, please!”
“I have to go now! It can’t have gotten far, I can burn the woods around us, force it to reveal itself—”
But the terrified filly only clung to her tighter. “Stop, listen to yourself! What are you saying?!?”
“That thing has to be destroyed!”
“That’s a foal! A foal we helped create!”
Celestia paused. Looking down, she saw, not an ally in a battle against ancient forces of evil, nor a newly-rescued heir to a missing empire. Instead, she saw a young mare, maybe all of thirteen. A foal on the cusp of adulthood who had just lost her home and everypony she held dear for the second time in her life, looking up at her with pleading eyes.
“Please,” Mi Amore said. “I know she’s dangerous. I know she hates me. But I’m going to have enemies. I always will.” Slowly, she slid down the older mare’s barrel, even as Celestia caught her in her arms, folding her wings about her.
“Please,” the filly wept. “Can’t the killing… stop?”
Gently, Celestia kissed Mi Amore’s forehead, above her newly-formed horn. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right. Forgive me.” She hugged her tighter. “And, thank you.”
The child said nothing, only snuggled closer, still crying. Celestia sighed, looking out into the wild woods beyond the cave. It probably it wouldn’t have worked anyway, she thought. And even if it would have, is that what I’ve become? A panicked slayer of the newly-created? A blind ravager of the green? An eager destroyer of life for the ‘greater good?’
She looked down at the exhausted filly-almost-mare in her arms, already dropping off from sheer exhaustion. She could feel her heart aching for the child. Shaking her head in resignation, she sighed.
Oh, Celestia, you greatest of all fools, she thought. And you had the gall to question Abacus’s choices. You truly never do learn, do you? She looked out again, this time towards the far horizon. Plainly, Mi Amore would need a new home again. And who could she count on to take her in? Indeed, who had her mother intended? 
Additionally, the new alicorn not only needed guidance and support, she needed training. Star Swirl was gone centuries ago, journeying through one of his damned mirrors. Luna was still in exile. That left exactly one ‘expert’ on alicorns, if there could even be such a thing.
No, she thought. No more apprentices! Twilight is bad enough, and hopefully I won’t doom the poor girl like I did Sunset. She looked down at the bundle of mane and feathers in her arms. I’ll enroll you in school, and take you on as a special student for the training you’ll need in your new magic. That’s all.
Again, her heart ached.
I can’t, she thought firmly to herself. I can’t, it’s completely out of the question! She deserves somepony competent, somepony who can adopt her, take her in, be her family…
But who? Her shoulders sagged slightly. Luna would have been her mother’s first choice, but she’s gone. And I’ve seen now, how many con artists there are in the world. Who would take in a lost princess from a forgotten empire, without any ulterior motives? Then finish bringing her up, see to her day-to-day needs, help her with her lessons, make certain she eats enough…?
In her sleep, Mi Amore stirred slightly. 
Celestia sighed, defeated.
Well, you can’t just be my ward, that much is certain. She made a sour face. I may not have Luna’s wisdom, but I can at least learn that much from my mistakes. But you’re certainly not becoming my daughter. Even if the memories of losing two mothers weren’t in the way, nopony deserves that fate. 
She looked out at the horizon again, slowly, gently bringing the sun below the skyline. 
I should have seen you coming, she thought. You and Twilight both. And Sunset, before that. But, somehow, I never did. It’s as if Discord is still kicking events into play from his stony prison, chuckling at my confusion.
Of course, she knew very well that the draconequus had nothing to do with the situation. Such things were simply part of life, chaos in its endless dance with pattern. It was easy to forget that fact sometimes, locked away in her marble palace.
But every now and then, life had a way of reminding her.
Alright then, child. I guess if it pleases you, you’ll be staying with me for a few years. And if it doesn’t, I’ll help you find a place that will. To her mild surprise, Celestia found herself hoping very much that the filly would want to stay.
But not as a daughter, she thought firmly. And not as a ward. We’ll find something in-between. 
She took a few moments, putting the finishing touches on the sunset, allowing a nice dusk to settle in. It would be a while yet, before she would bring up the moon.
Then, she looked down at the filly curled up in her arms. And, uncertainly at first, Celestia began to sing.
> 7: Welcome Home.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia had spent hours in the village, helping the ponies there try to cope with what they had gone through. Well, trying to. They had just endured four loveless years. Abusing and being abused by the ponies closest to them, often while losing foal after foal through sheer neglect. Wishing for the thousandth time for Luna’s wisdom, in the end all she’d been able to do was make it clear that it wasn’t their fault, explain why, and hope they believed her.
She’d teleported home with her young charge then, and immediately awoken Abacus. There was a quick exchange of signs and countersigns, and then he was in action, bless him, seeking out the best counselors he could find – and that they could find in turn – gathering them all together. Then, Celestia had addressed them all, and transported them at once to Voe Valley.
She, however, did not stay. The villagers were not the Crimson Queen’s only victims, after all. Fortunately, the young princess woke with a clarity that Celestia had not expected, and met her on the royal balcony.
Princess Mi Amore Anastasia Cadenza – or Cadence, as she preferred to be called – had many questions, and Celestia had no intention of putting them off. So they conversed for a while, still standing on the terrace. About themselves, about their kingdoms, about the last thousand years. And, of course, about Mira. On that last, Cadence mostly talked, and Celestia mostly listened.
When Celestia broached the subject of Cadence finding a new home in the palace, with her, to her surprise and delight the young mare said yes. Each of them, it seemed, had seen somewhat into the other’s heart during Cadence’s Becoming, joined as they had been by the foal’s magic. The decision of adoption was a mutually easy one, therefore, with Cadence suggesting that she become Celestia’s niece.
Yet, not all their words were comfortable ones. In addition to discussing Mira, the subject of Princess Luna inevitably arose. Cadence couldn’t wait to see her crystaller again. 
Reluctantly, Celestia looked out into the night sky as she told the tale of her failure, of her sister’s defeat and ultimate exile. 
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Cadence said at last. “Please, forgive me.”
Still looking out into the night, Celestia only shook her head. 
“Princess?” Cadence stepped closer. “Please. Are you alright?”
“I am, as much as I can be.” Then, Celestia turned her head to Cadence with a sad smile, adding, “Though it seems to me we both carry that title.”
Cadence nodded. “We do. It’s strange, though. I have all my own memories. I remember my life in the Crystal Empire, my family, and my friends. I remember Sombra. And… what happened after.”
She shuddered, and Celestia put a wing around her.  
“But I also have my memories as Bluebottle,” Cadence went on. “And they stretch back just as far. They seem just as real.”
“They’re false memories. Implanted by the Knight of Mirrors.”
A sigh. “I know. I’d only just gotten my cutie mark when Sombra attacked. Then Mother cast her spell, and suddenly I was in the ruins of an old castle. A little while later, they found me. So, my first day as their captive was Bluebottle’s first day with a mark.” She shrugged. “I suppose that made it easier for them, somehow.”
Celestia glanced at her. “Is there… something else that’s bothering you?”
Cadence fidgeted. Then, “Do you think he was real?”
“Bluebottle?”
Cadence nodded.
Celestia looked very tired. “I…” She sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not.” At Cadence’s quizzical look, she explained, “If Bluebottle was a real pony somewhere, before you were given his identity… then, somewhere out there, in some far-flung world, there could be a Cindy List. And a Lucy List.”
Cadence moved closer, put her head on her new aunt’s shoulder. 
“If there is a world where Cindy List is real, then she met the real Janus Knight,” Cadence told her. “And then, remembering, she woke up at last, becoming again who she truly was. Just as you remembered, and remained who you truly are.” She paused, then looked up at her elder, adding, “And if the one sister can wake, then perhaps the other can, as well.” 
“That’s… a rather optimistic view,” said Celestia. But the young alicorn could hear the hope in her voice.
Cadence smiled as Celestia gently held her a little closer, leaning her head on her adopted aunt’s shoulder again. “I read some of Star Swirl’s theories, back home,” Cadence said. “If there are infinite worlds, and his experiments seem to indicate there are, then we have the possibilities to match. Which means there is always life, and therefore always love. And where there is life and love, there is always hope.”
“And yet, there will always be darkness, always despair,” Celestia pointed out. “Sometimes without limit.”
“Yes. But a single spark of light, even surrounded by an eternity of darkness, is still light.”
Celestia considered her. “Is that why you reached out to the Queen as you did?”
But Cadence shook her head. “No. What we had, it was strange, and certainly unhealthy. But even after the point where my ‘Bluebottle’ memories were implanted and my countenance was changed, there were still Heart’s Warming presents, still birthday gifts, still smiles and lullabies late at night. 
“Then, there were the times when she would tuck me in her web a little more snugly. Or the times she comforted me when I’d had a bad dream.” 
“She was feeding on you, dear one.”
“I know that. But my point is that she played her part too well, for too long, for it to have been just an act.” 
Cadence pulled back, looked into Celestia’s tired eyes with her own earnest ones. “She could have been distant, and kept me dependent on her, and there would still have been a child’s love for her to harvest. And, sometimes, she was distant. Her affection was like everything else about her. Twisted up, malformed. Even painful.
“But, other times… you didn’t know her. You didn’t hear her, as she died. She enjoyed being Mira, mother to Bluebottle. She wanted a child other than the Knight of Mirrors. Someone to nurture, instead of raise to be a predator like her. It was as if the role she played was an excuse to be who she wanted to be, instead of who she was.” 
Cadence sighed. “I know it’s strange. But it was enough that at the end I could love her, and know that she, in her own distorted way, loved me. She wasn’t purely evil.”
Celestia sighed, as well. “No. No, she wasn’t.” She looked again out to the night sky, at the silhouette visible in the moon’s silver face. 
“There is no pure evil, or pure good,” Celestia said. “Life would be so much simpler if there were.”
“It would,” Cadence agreed. “The Crimson Queen ultimately died, not because of some spell you cast, or some overload of magical power, but because she thought she couldn’t change. And because of that, she couldn’t change, couldn’t grow.” She sighed again. “So, for all her crimes, I do mourn her, even as I mourn her victims.”
Then, Cadence shook her head. “And now, somehow, I’m an alicorn. Because my life wasn’t surreal enough, I guess.” 
She looked out, into the night. “And you’re still here after all this time, too, despite everything that’s happened. So in the end, I guess we’ll both have to be stronger than she was.”
There were a few moments of silence between them.
“It’s chilly,” Cadence observed.
“You know, we could go inside,” Celestia said at last.
“We could,” Cadence agreed. “We can keep talking, though, right?”
Celestia smiled. “Of course.”
Suddenly, there was a crash from within the palace, the sound of many objects shattering in quick succession. 
Palace guards fell into step around the princesses as they ran down the hallway, bursting through the door from whence the sounds had come.
There, in the candle-lit kitchen, was a young violet unicorn dangling by her forehooves by a high shelf, her rear legs kicking. Dishes had been knocked from the shelf directly below her, cascading onto the floor. Suspended in the lavender aura of her magic halfway between shelf and floor was a large earthenware jar clearly marked, COOKIES.
The filly stared over her shoulder at the open door and the ponies there with wide eyes, half of a large chocolate chip cookie protruding from her mouth.
“Um, fi,” she managed around the confection. “Yer fome earfy.”
Celestia cocked an eyebrow, even as the palace guards struggled to maintain decorum. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “It is well past your bedtime, young lady, and you know very well the kitchens are off-limits. I trust you have an explanation for this?”
“Fpike meeded cookief.”
Celestia tilted her head in suspicion. “I see. And where is Spike, if he needs cookies so badly?”
The filly looked from Celestia’s narrowed eyes, to the broken plates below her, then back to her mentor.
“Waifing fer cookief?”
Celestia closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. It was impossible to tell whether the monarch was trying to keep from yelling or laughing. Perhaps both. Meanwhile, the obviously amused palace guards who had gathered behind her quickly bowed and left.
Just then, Twilight’s grip on the shelf slipped, her rear legs instinctively kicking in renewed desperation.
Immediately, the foal was enveloped in a light blue glow, lifting her gently off the shelf, rear hooves up and tail down. While another, golden glow took the cookie jar from her control and replaced it near where she had been hanging so precariously, Twilight drifted gently (if unevenly) towards the princesses. The little filly quickly jammed the rest of the contraband into her mouth, chewing rapidly as she settled on the floor in front of them both.
Cadence crouched down and smiled at the filly. “Hi, there,” she said. “What’s your name?”
The filly swallowed and stole a glance at Princess Celestia. The mare had her serious face on, which was worrisome. The foal swallowed again. Trouble. Definitely in trouble. But, the princess gave no sign that she shouldn’t answer. So…
“Twilight Sparkle,” the filly said softly. “I’m, um, Princess Celestia’s apprentice.” Again, an uncertain glance at the white mare. 
Cadence smiled. “Well, my name’s Cadence.” 
Twilight looked at her horn and wings, curiosity instantly overcoming her apprehension. “Are you Princess Celestia’s sister?”
Celestia winced and looked away.
“No,” Cadence said, struggling to keep Twilight’s attention focused, “No, I’m the new palace foalsitter.”
“Foalsitter?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How come?”
Cadence leaned forward and whispered, “Because I know all the best stories!”
Twilight considered this. “I do too. I mean,” she amended, “Well, I’ve read them all. So, yeah, I pretty much know them all.”
“Well, I know stories that aren’t in any books.”
The filly’s eyes grew wide. “Is that… possible?”
“Uh-huh,” Cadence winked. “Let’s get you back to bed, and I’ll show you.”
With a speed Cadence hadn’t thought her capable of, the filly had zipped out another door and was galloping down an adjacent hall.
Cadence turned to Celestia. “Sorry, I should have asked first. I know that ideally she’d be cleaning up the mess she’d made. It’s just that it’s already so late…”
Celestia shook her head. “No, you’re probably right. I’ll talk to her about the matter tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes. “Although, if the story covered something about not lying, or not stealing cookies, it might be nice.”
Cadence frowned. “Why? Does she do this often?”
“No, no, it’s always something different. Never anything with malice or ill intent – and not terribly often, really – but, ancestors before us, her curiosity is insatiable, and her energy is almost limitless. And she does have a talent for finding trouble.” 
Looking sideways at Cadence, she added, “Then again, one might say you do as well, oh new Palace Foalsitter.”
Cadence blinked. “Why? How many foals are there?”
“Just Twilight. Her brother is several years older, and is studying elsewhere.”
“But then, who’s Spike?”
“Oh, you’ll find out.”
“But—” 
“Their room is straight down the hall she ran down, third-to-last door on the left,” Celestia went on contentedly. “Mine is the last on the left. We might put your room across from theirs, if you don’t mind.”
Cadence opened her mouth as if to ask something more, then changed her mind. “Very well,” she nodded, her curiosity raised. “I don’t mind at all, so long as you and I can continue to talk once I’m done?”
Celestia smiled one of her slight smiles. “I look forward to it. Besides, you’ll need lessons on your new magic as well, for all that you’ve taken to telekinesis amazingly quickly.”
Cadence blinked. “Um, well, I… couldn’t let her fall…”
Celestia smiled again, then glanced back towards the side door, looking for a moment as if she were studying something far away. “Of course you couldn’t,” she said at last. “In fact, once we start your magic lessons, you might see if Twilight would be willing to tutor you.”
“Twilight? But she can’t be more than nine—”
“Trust me,” Celestia assured her. “You’ll be surprised.”
Just then, the door burst open again.
“Boom-shanka!” Twilight shouted.
“Cornflakes!” Celestia shouted back.
Twilight leaped forward and hugged Celestia fiercely, with Celestia hugging her back. Then Twilight was through the door again, galloping away back to her room.
Cadence looked from Celestia to the door, and then back again, completely at a loss. Finally she addressed Celestia.
“I’m sorry… what?”
“Palace security,” Celestia answered with a serene nod. “Hyper-critical.”
Cadence cocked an amused eyebrow. “I see.”





Making the arrangements had been relatively simple. Fortunately, Abacus had still been awake, and had young Raven to assist him. He had taken notes while she’d brought him coffee and fresh ink, and would begin filing the proper paperwork later in the day, after he had gotten some more rest.
Granted, young Shining was still in school, and wouldn’t enlist until after graduation. But Celestia was certain he would. And once he did, she wanted to be certain he would be assigned to Canterlot.
Not to the palace guard, however. Celestia had been very specific; she had no intention of doing anything that might impinge upon Twilight’s natural exuberance. But close enough for regular visits, certainly. Both fillies’ patterns were still a challenge to read, but if understood what little she saw correctly…
Celestia smiled. Sometimes the little, trivial things mattered most. And if those little moments made the foals she loved happy, so much the better.
Still. Between one thing and another, it had been over an hour. Celestia hated to disturb them, but if she and Cadence were going to discuss anything further before retiring, they would have to do it now. 
Gently and quietly, she opened the door to the room that Twilight and Spike shared. 
There was Spike, curled up on Twilight’s bed, chewing gently on his tail in his sleep. Spooned against him on the far side was Twilight, also asleep, one foreleg draped protectively over the hatchling.
Curled around Twilight, in turn, was Cadence. Sound asleep, holding hatchling and filly both, one wing covering the two of them like a pink-feathered blanket.
Celestia smiled. Gently and carefully, she extended her magic out. A golden glow lifted the bed covers over the three of them, and tucked them in. Then, Celestia silently closed the door.