The Goddesses are reunited, yet Luna has still to take her throne. A thousand years of controlling the Night and the Day have seemingly taken their toll on Celestia and as the Sun and the Moon rebel, only the concentrated efforts of the Elements of Harmony and that pony which was once Nightmare Moon can prevent disaster raining down on Equestria.
Celestia allowed her tired eyes to close as she stepped out from the doorway, embracing alone the feeling of the late afternoon breeze as it brushed past, tugging at her flowing mane and gently lifting the hair as if it could carry on its journey with the wind. Taking in a great lungful of air and exhaling slowly, the Princess reluctantly returned her gaze to the world outside - directing her attention to the immense circular stone table that dominated the courtyard she stood within.
With the rhythmic clop of hooves against stone, Celestia slowly began to walk about the circle, occasionally casting her eyes over the walls of the high courtyard to look down on the bulk of the Royal Palace, a few levels below. Dropping her gaze as she leaned over the wall, the Princess followed the massive structure of the Palace’s southern wing as it stretched towards the distance, shaped almost as if some great pony made from the hardest stone had pushed its muzzle into the ground.
Continuing her gentle pace, Celestia took in the expansive gardens that ran between the southern wing and the eastern; bright slices of orange, blue, red and a myriad other colours on a bed of green making for a pleasing contrast to the Royal Palace’s painted white and grey walls. Stretching her muzzle out further – a little more precariously – the Princess could just about see the very lowest floors of the Palace complex as they spread outwards, like the tiers of a wedding cake from the top down.
It had been Celestia’s home for well over one thousand years and yet, every early morning and late afternoon she would take the same walk about the perimeter of the Solar Courtyard and it would all seem so bright, so alive ... So new.
Turning her attention to the immense circular slab that dominated the courtyard, the Princess’ alabaster wings unfurled regally and, with virtually no effort, lifted her from the stone beneath her hooves and up into the air. From a vantage point of a few metres high, Celestia could more easily make out the thin line of shadow that, courtesy of the spire of glass climbing from the very middle of the stone circle, told her precisely where her Sun now stood in the sky.
It was time.
Still, Celestia hesitated. As the seconds ticked by and – undoubtedly – somepony in the Department of the Day would be growing ever more hysterical at a late (by a matter of moments) sunset, she waited. After a few moments more, her gaze climbed upwards to the only part of the Royal Palace that stood higher than the Solar Courtyard ...
The Tower of the Moon climbed high into the Equestrian sky; coloured a dark blue where the majority of the rest of the complex was pale white.
A shimmering band of white wrapped itself lazily about the tower’s form, beginning at the widest foundations and spiralling upwards to end at the tallest spire. All but invisible in the brightness of the day, the band shone with the light of the stars reflected when the Moon stood watch. Numerous windows were cut into its wide height, but none - save one at the very highest point – were lit.
The entire tower seemed to stand aside from the greater Palace; connected to the rest of the complex other than via its base by a single walkway barely five ponies wide and almost a hundred long. It was a part of the Royal Palace and Canterlot, of course ... And yet it was not.
Conscious of the fact her ministers would soon be galloping through the doorway opposite to inquire about the terrible events that had held the Sun in the sky for three minutes longer then scheduled, Celestia gave one final glance up to the very top of the Tower of the Moon; willing her sister to choose this day to resume their partnership, to choose this day over the four hundred and ninety seven previous ...
Nothing.
Allowing a sigh to escape her lips, the Goddess of the Sun held her beautiful creation from its rest no longer, and with the effort and magic only an Alicorn could bring to bear sent the Sun below the horizon and brought the four hundred and ninety seventh day since the return of Luna to a close. A murky blackness, neither day nor night, settled over Canterlot and all the lands of ponykind as Celestia lowered herself back to the ground and folded her wings comfortably by her sides.
Planting her hooves firmly against the stone beneath, the Princess focused; the glow of her horn intensifying as she brought her full powers to the difficult task at hoof. The Moon was not hers; she had not crafted it from magic and the dust out beyond the stars, and she had not brought it to life with a kiss from her snout but nonetheless, she could command it.
While it could not protest in the same way anypony could to treatment it did not like, The Moon rose only sluggishly, reluctantly – providing no help to Celestia who began to feel as if she were pulling the silver orb into the sky by a rope held between her teeth. Grunting with the effort, the Princess finally succeeded and fixed the Sun’s polar opposite in place with a single thought.
A few solitary points of light, a literal hoof-full of stars accompanied the thin crescent which hung low in the murky sky ... A poor reward for Celestia’s efforts. Tapping her forelegs against the stone beneath in irritation, the light from the Goddess of the Sun’s horn faded until it returned to the same alabaster white as her flawless coat. Tipping her muzzle upwards towards the night, Celestia offered a heartfelt apology to the poor display; she could, if necessary, raise the Moon and bring on the night ... But it was no work of art. The stars were not hers, and the comets and brush swirls of galaxies belonged to her sister alone.
They obeyed her as an Alicorn, as a Princess of Equestria ... But they belonged to another like the Sun belonged to her. She regarded the thin slice of the Moon, a shallow crescent barely visible, with particular sadness. Four hundred and ninety seven days since Luna’s return and in almost five hundred days, the Moon shown no more of its face than a wisp, or a slice.
Equestria had not known a full moon in over a thousand years ... Even Celestia could barely remember the sight. And yet there had been no beautiful return, despite the return of the Goddess of the Night and the Moon, the sky remained as it had remained for ten centuries. The thought alone made her hooves ache, and swinging her mane from side-to-side, the Princess felt the unpleasant sensation of dizziness overtake her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Celestia sank down to her hindlegs.
Even with her eyes shut, she could still feel the Solar Courtyard spinning, as if something had taken a hold of her tail and span her about until she felt sick. Grimacing and pressing her snout to the cold stone, the Princess waited out the dizziness and, eventually, it passed. Blinking away the confusion and climbing back to her hooves, Celestia decided on sleep being the best course of action. Sending the Sun to bed and raising the Moon had been harder than she expected and thoughts of her sister only made it all harder ...
Pausing as she passed through the doorway and back into the Royal Palace, the Goddess of the Sun sent a final glance up at the Tower of the Moon and the Alicorn it undoubtedly held at its top, along with a final thought carried on the breeze ...
I love you Luna.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“So explain this to me one more time ...” Spike muttered, his back bent as he struggled to pull the artist’s easel across the floor and simultaneously balance the tubes of paint held in the crook of his scaly arm. From the table nearby - a table almost entirely hidden by the books stacked around it and on top of it – a purple unicorn paid only half her total attention to the complaining diminutive Dragon.
With flash of her horn, Twilight Sparkle turned the page at hoof and eagerly continued reading. “ ... Statistical tests have long established that creativity affects many other areas in ponylife,” She began to read aloud. “Creativity is heavily linked with magical ability, with ponies displaying the former more likely not only to have greater magical capability, but also superior control and use of that magic.”
Spike frowned, dropping the easel down to the floor and cupping the small of his back. “That supposed to be my answer, huh?”
Twilight glanced up, confusion written across her features. “What?”
“Nevermind,” Spike groaned. “I still don’t see why you gotta do this when you should be fast asleep! What’s wrong with putting your head down when the Sun goes down?!”
Closing the book at her hooves with a flash of light courtesy of her horn, Twilight Sparkle rolled her eyes and offered Spike a slightly condescending smile. Checking over the brushes and rags stuffed into her saddlebags and levitating it all onto her back without an effort, Twilight ambled towards the door.
“I could never do this during the day, Spike!” She explained matter-of-factly. “I can’t take a moment out of my scheduled studies; what would Princess Celestia say if she knew?”
Narrowing his eyes as he balanced the easel over his back, the baby dragon struggled to keep up with the pony ahead. “Not much I bet, she’s probably sleepin’ ... Like I should be!”
Coming to a halt with a humph, Twilight swung around and with a little effort and her horn, levitated a book from her saddlebag. Setting it down carefully on the ground, she flicked through the pages rapidly until coming across a copy of a painting spread across the spine. Nodding in satisfaction, she beckoned the Dragon over with a hoof. “Come take a look, Spike!”
Setting the easel down and padding over, Spike peered at the book, his eyes widening as he took in the painting. He could make out a village in it, with a steeple rising up but they were all underneath the most amazing sky he’d ever seen! The night was a mix of blues, different hues all working together but it looked like the water down by the river; it was swirling, twisting like something right out of a dream. There were a couple of stars but they were ripples of light, like he sometimes saw when he skipped a pebble across a nearby pond. The yellows mixed with the blue, flowing in and out ... And the Moon! The Moon was incredible, lit so brightly it was like the Sun ...
“It sure is pretty,” Spike whispered, looking up at the knowing nod from the pony above. “Who painted it?”
“A pony by the name of Vincent Van Trot,” Twilight answered with a nod. “He painted it a very, very long time ago. Long before either of us was born—“
“He must have had some imagination!” Spike interrupted, glancing up into the night sky above and frowning. “It’s never looked like that to me, ‘cept when I accidentally drank Pinke Pie’s “Zoot-Alut Surprise” and saw all kind of funny stuff; had all kinds of funny dreams too, I had this one dream ‘bout Rarity—“
“Spike!” Twilight groaned, interrupting the dragon herself. Having the good grace to look apologetic, Twilight returned her attention to the book. “It was painted over a thousand years ago; I think the night looked different back then ... Or so I’ve read.”
Whistling, Spike settled back on his haunches and gave the night above him a gesture. “Thousand years, huh? Bet only the Princesses remember that ... Well a Princess, Well, Celestia.”
“Yeah ...” Twilight mused, closing the book and returning it to her saddlebag with a flicker of magic and light from her horn. “We’d best continue on, Spike – before it gets too late ...”
Nodding and wrestling with the easel once more, the dragon-to-be settled in behind his boss to the best of his ability, just about able to keep pace and avoid tipping over like the stacks of books around the library did ... All the time.
“Hey, Twilight!”
Craning her had back as she ambled, the purple unicorn raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“What was that pretty painting called, anyway?”
“Starry Night,” Twilight called back, her own eyes wandering up into the plain, mostly featureless sky and hoping she wouldn’t have to wait another thousand years to see something as beautiful and wondrous as the apparent inspiration behind the painting.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A gentle tap against the door – so quiet it was almost impossible to hear – roused Luna’s attention from the mattress where she had lay, looking up at nothing more interesting than the frilled canopy draped above the four corners of her bed. Rolling over towards the enormous doors that separated her Royal Chambers from the rest of the Tower, Luna spoke for the first time that day (and now night).
“Who is it?” She called out. One of the double-set doors, fully six times the height of a pony, creaked open to admit the thinnest slither of somepony’s mane. The voice that replied was impeccably polite, well-practiced and utterly neutral. “Will there be anything further tonight, Your Highness?”
Luna craned her neck to get a better view of whichever pony from the Household Staff stood at the door, but she could barely tell the door was open, let alone who stood behind it. “No ...” She replied eventually, before remembering her manners. “ ... Thank you.”
“Very good, Princess,” The voice clipped before promptly pulling the door closed with a reverberating thud. The sound of hoof against polished marble beyond echoed for a few moments further, before total silence was restored again. Rolling onto her stomach, Luna pressed her snout down against the duvet and sighed.
You didn’t raise the Moon tonight.
“I am not ready yet,” Luna replied to no-one, matter-of-factly. “Sister is more than capable of doing it.”
That she is, the voice replied with obvious irritation, without ever being heard by the wider room. Putting the question of Celestia aside, the Moon and the stars are yours to do with as you please, Little One. Why do you ignore them?
Luna shrugged her shoulders, resting her head on her forelegs. “I told you, I do not feel ready. Maybe tomorrow ...”
You have told me that every night since you came home. You used to say it with so much more conviction; I think you have stopped believing it.
Rolling over, Luna fixed her gaze on the visage of Nightmare Moon, spread out on the carpeted floor below. The elder mirror of herself returned the stare, cocking its head to the side and offering the slightest smile in return. I can almost understand the need you feel to lie to others, Little One ... But why lie to a fragment of yourself? I know why it is you refuse to return to your canvas, and why you decline all offers to paint your sky.
“The fact you are here to discuss this at all proves my concerns are founded,” Luna retorted with a frown. Nightmare Moon shook her head, climbing up from the carpet and stretching out her hindlegs.
I am here only because you wish for the company. I am a ghost, a remnant; I exist only because you desire it and I have not had any will of my own since we were defeated over a year ago.
Luna swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a shuddering breath. “ ... I know.”
You are lonely, my Little One. You cannot spend your days and your beautiful nights up here, talking away the weeks and the months with a ghost who has not existed for a very long time. We were once the same pony, my Princess, but I am not real ... Only a shard from a broken mirror.
“You feel real to me,” Luna whispered as a single tear spilled free from the prison of her eye and rolled down to splash against the cobalt-coloured bedsheet. Crossing to the bed, Nightmare Moon looked down on herself-of-a-sort, and bent downwards to nuzzle the Princess who now began to sob uncontrollably.
You will carry me in a way, forever, Little One but our journey together ended long ago. Your path does not lie with me ... It lies with the Principality outside, sleeping underneath your Moon. Celestia forgives, she offers your Night to you once again. Why will you not put what has happened before out to pasture?
From underneath a swaying mane, the Goddess of the Moon seemed to give a thousand tears for one thousand years. She struggled to draw breath, the enormity of it all – the responsibility of it all – simply too much and in her weary mind, too soon. “I am not ready ...” She breathed, barely audible.
Nightmare Moon climbed onto the bed and extended a wing, resting it over her smaller self and spreading the feathers to cover the shivering Alicorn.
I know ... The Remnant sighed. Maybe tomorrow ...
~*~*~*~*~*~
“ So you see Your Highness!” The pony summarised, brushing at an imaginary grain of dirt on his sleeve with an impeccably filed hoof and gesturing to the map pinned to the board behind his mane. “We propose a total of thirty new homes, as well as a school, a concert hall and several other community services!”
“ … Your Highness?”
It took the Princess several moments to blink away whatever half-thoughts had distracted her from the business of the Court, recall the presentation she’d been receiving, and conjure a question that would smooth over her inattentiveness. If she’d had a few more seconds to spare, the alicorn would have dedicated them to scolding herself for such wandering attention.
“I do not question your vision or your planning,” Celestia said eventually, having lived long enough to remember when established towns like Ponyville and Manehatten were mere gleams in the eyes of their developers. Surreptitiously meeting the gaze of the aged, wrinkled Pony stood to the left of her throne, the Princess continued; “ ... I question the location.”
“A short gallop from Everfree Forest?” The old pony at the base of the throne grumbled aloud, ambling over to the map to inspect it closely through half-inch thick lenses perched precariously on the end of his snout. “Parasprites and Ursas make for interesting neighbours, I would think.”
For the first time in the already hour-long audience, the constant smile of the impeccably-dressed stallion representing Equestrian House & Homes faded. “The low cost of the land makes for a highly attractive incentive ...” He began, awkwardly. “Moving the planned construction north-east, far enough away to avoid the objections of the farmers tending Sweet Apple Acres, would increase costs by over forty percent!”
The old pony glanced over his shoulder towards the Princess, shaking his mane in what might have been shock or masterful sarcasm. “Heavens!” He grunted. “Forty percent you say!”
“The safety of my subjects will always be of the very greatest importance,” Celestia began with all the diplomacy of one thousand years experience, and all the soothing of a voice that could only belong to a pony capable of raising the sun in the sky. “I applaud you for your vision, Mister Salesbury; after all your success is Equestria’s success ... However in light of the unknown associated with the Everfree Forest, I would like a little more time to consider your proposal.”
While a bowing Salesbury couldn’t see it, behind his flank the aged pony’s lips curled upwards in a smile as he recognised the supreme method for dismissing an idea with the minimum of offence. Firstly, build-up before breaking down; throw in a compliment or two ... Then make any issue one of your own and, finally, dangle the carrot of possibly changing your mind in your own time. Superb.
That’s why she’s a princess, He thought with a grin. Even if she seemed a most distracted one.
With the help of a member of the Royal Guard, who easily folded the half-dozen scrolls, maps and the stand they rested on underneath his wing, Salesbury offered the Sun Goddess another bow, roll of his hoof and a dip of his snout before spinning on the spot and trotting out of the Throne Room.
“ ... Need I ask your opinion on the Everfree Development, Church Hill?”
Regarding his Princess with a shake of his mane, the Secretary of State for the Department of the Day offered his opinion nonetheless. “Damned foolish idea, My Lady; anything so close to that forest is begging for trouble to rain down upon them. If I’d been an older pony – and only a little older, mind you! – I’d have objected to Ponyville based on that same idea!”
While Celestia nodded, she’d heard the words on some subconscious level, her attention had drifted away to the throne sitting vacant by her side. Tilting her muzzle upwards, eyes passing over the carved crescent of the Moon that matched the same of the Sun above her own mane, the Princess absurdly felt like laughing. Was this scene, with the Lunar Throne sitting empty while she tended to the affairs of the Principality alone, any different from the last thousand years? For all the terrible events she had borne witness to; from the banishment of her sister to her return to do battle against the Elements of Harmony, and the difficult and bumpy track her hooves had walked since then ... At this moment, here and now, it felt as if all that had been in vain.
Shaking her head as if she could shake such thoughts from her mind, Celestia chastised herself. To even think that nothing had changed was to insult not only the brave ponies who had come together to aid her against Nightmare Moon, but her sister and of course, herself.
... And yet it was so difficult to keep such thoughts away.
“ ... So I think we should grant immediate permission to begin to the Everfree Development. After that, I thought you might grant me the title of King of Equestria—“
Snapping her head back towards the old Pony and suddenly remembering where she was, Celestia had the good grace to bow her muzzle in apology. If he felt any true offence, Church Hill hid it well and instead replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh, don’t mind the dreams of some old warpony, Your Highness ... Just thinking out loud.”
His features becoming more serious, Church Hill ascended the steps of the Solar Throne and settled on his hindlegs by his Princess’ side. He glanced over his shoulder towards the Lunar Throne, and while had his suspicions like any canny pony of his advanced years might, a glance up at the sorrow in the eyes of Celestia provided all the confirmation he needed.
“If you’ll forgive what I am about to say, Your Highness ... And if you can’t, may you chalk it up to my senility ... It has only been a year and one half since her return. Princess Luna has spent more time upon the Moon than she has spent time either in Equestria, or even alive. It’s a different world up there from the one down here.
“Clichés are only truths repeated once too often for a pony to stand, and while I’m certain you grow tired of hearing it I offer you a truth with one caveat; Time heals all wounds, Princess ... And you have all the time there is to have. I regret only that I, and the ponies around me, will know this as a time without both the rightful rulers of Equestria on their Thrones . And yet there were countless generations of ponies, Your Highness, before the unfortunate events of one thousand years ago that knew only the Sun and the Moon in perfect harmony.”
Bowing respectfully, Church Hill turned about and ambled down the steps to the floor of the Throne Room. “That time will come again, and I regret only that I won’t ever see it.”
Feeling the hotness behind her eyes become almost too much to bear, Celestia managed to find her voice as the old pony made it almost beyond the doors. “Thank you, Church Hill ...” She virtually whispered.
Showing a stunning range of hearing for one so advancing in years, the old warpony dipped his mane in acknowledgment as he continued out. “At your service, Your Highness.”
Taking a long and shuddering breath, Celestia pushed herself up to her hooves and stepped down from the dais. No sooner had she done so than the strength in her legs failed the alicorn, sending the Princess down to the marble floor with a thud. Grimacing as she rolled onto her side, wings unfurling reflexively, Celestia felt her vision swirl and the Royal Palace around her twist in new, strange shapes. Dimly aware of the clatter of hooves and raised voices surrounding, she tried to fight through the disorientation.
Horn flashing in once, twice, sending out coruscating pulses of light that forced the attending Royal Guard to shield their eyes, the Goddess of the Sun unsteadily climbed back to standing. Shaking her multi-coloured mane, Celestia felt her world stabilise and her vision clear.
“Princess?” The Captain of the Guard broached, concern clear behind his otherwise stoic and well-drilled persona.
Taking a few deep breaths, and hesitantly planting a hoof forward as if testing her weight on it, Celestia raised her head and exhaled, slowly. “I am fine, Captain ... Perhaps a little tired.” She replied, adding a little more force to her words. “ ...Thank you.”
Opening his mouth as if to challenge this, but thinking better of it, the Captain simply stepped back and nodded, turning his attention to the pegasi gathered about him. “Stand down!” He barked.
Turning away from the Royal Guard, confusion written across her alabaster muzzle, Celestia wandered away from the thrones, unable to process what had just happened. Her thoughts disordered, haphazard, the Goddess of the Sun got no further than replaying her dizzy spell inside her mind when the business of raising the Moon burst forth from her memory and demanded her total attention.
Making her way towards the Solar Courtyard, the Princess could feel every sinew of her body’s weariness. It had been a long day ...
... It had been a long thousand years, she mused.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A foal was everything to its dam; a physical form to the love and caring required to bring a new life into the wider world. A foal was equally capable, of astounding acts of insensitivity towards its parent; such were the troubles of youth and, often, a simple refusal to do as it was told.
Gritting her teeth together, Celestia imagined this was as close as she would get to that same irritation any mare would experience when her foal so brazenly ignored her will. Bending her hooves to the task, horn blazing with the power only an alicorn could boast, the Princess literally dragged her sun across the sky, tugging on the incandescent ball of light as it began to dip only grudgingly below the horizon. With a final grunt of effort the sun did as it was told and disappeared from view.
Blinking away the beads of sweat that rolled into her eyes and stung, Celestia tapped a hoof against the stone floor of the Solar Courtyard, flushed and annoyed. She had raised her sun and put it to bed countless times, and yet she could not remember it ever taking so much effort. Glancing up at the strange sky – neither day or night – the Princess forced herself to focus on the task of raising the Moon and completing her duties.
But it would not come.
The sky darkened, a little more recognisable as night perhaps but still not as it should be. Not a single star offered its light to Equestria below and the Moon, or at least the slither of a crescent it had become these last ten centuries, folded its imagined hooves across its chest and refused to come out. Knees quaking with the effort of it all, her own eyes forced shut by the brightness of her horn, the Princess demanded the Moon’s compliance. The Moon, wherever it hid, however, ignored Her Royal Highness.
“I order you to come out!” Celestia shouted, exasperated by it all. “As a Princess of this land you are bound by my magic! Do as I say!”
After a few moments of silence, the light from the Sun Goddess’ horn faded and her multi-coloured, flowing mane flew upwards in anger as she pointed her muzzle to the sky and directed her irritation to wherever the infernal Moon hid and defied her. A few moments more and it became obvious she would not win this fight, at least not tonight. Turning on the spot, Princess Celestia marched through the doorway and back into the Royal Palace – the loud clapping of golden horseshoes against the marble floor acting as a powerful indicator of her mood.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Thank you,” Luna nodded as the levitating service tray settled down in front of her. The unicorn responsible simply bowed, the glow of his horn fading with his work done. Stepping back against the stone walls of the dining room he might well have been another of the hundreds of busts, sculptures, statues and supporters scattered throughout the Palace Complex. His eyes fixed ahead at some imagined point on the wall opposite, he would play no further part in Luna’s evening unless she made a request of him.
Resisting an urge to sigh, the Princess focused on enjoying the early evening with Celestia, before her sister turned in for the night. The shared dinner – like the breakfast at the beginning of each day – had once served as an unofficial handover, as one Princess would take watch over Equestria whilst the other slept. They had served no other purpose now except to socialise for well over one thousand years.
Leaning back on her hindlegs, Luna frowned as her attention wandered to the far end of the table, towards the distinctly empty chair that should have been filled quite some time ago with another alicorn. Puffing her cheeks outwards the Princess hopped down from her chair and crossed the expansive dining room, stepping out onto the small balcony that overlooked the east wing of the Royal Palace.
Luna knew something felt wrong before she could look up and see it for herself ... Where was the Moon? She rarely looked at her night – the night, for it hadn’t been her own for a very long time – but she could not remember a time when it looked more alien. Barely qualifying as night at all, not a single star shone and it seemed only a little darker than the dawn before the rising of Celestia’s sun ...
Luna glanced over her shoulder, back into the dining room. Where was her sister?
Turning away from the sorry display of the sky, the Princess ambled back inside, suppressing the twinge of guilt she felt for doing nothing to make the night any greater. The clink of armour-against-hide interrupted her thoughts, and Luna glanced up to see a member of the Royal Guard breeze into the dining room and offer a stiff bow.
“Princess Celestia sends her regrets,” The Pegasus announced detachedly. “She is previously engaged and unable to meet with Your Royal Highness this evening.”
Luna opened her mouth to ask why, but the Guardspony clearly had more pressing duties for the speed of his hooves carried him almost to the door before she had time to think. Glancing over at the unicorn who had remained totally immobile since delivering her meal, the Goddess of the Moon finally released the sigh on her lips.
“I’m not hungry ...” She said simply, to which the Royal Steward only nodded; spiriting the undisturbed service tray up and away from the long table with a shimmer of his horn. Making her way towards the doorway. Passing the armoured Pegasi flanking either side of the exit Luna paused, trying to meet their eyes. Both stiffened in textbook reaction, but they went no further than this basic requirement of royal etiquette and military response.
Giving up and returning her focus on the corridor, Luna could make out the flowing black flanks and violet hues of Nightmare Moon ahead, where before there had been nothing. The older mirror of herself looked back, offering Luna an encouraging smile as she trotted forwards to catch up. Rubbing her own mane against the black coat opposite, the Princess felt some of her loneliness abate.
“I missed you ...” Luna whispered, unwilling to talk to loudly for fear of being heard by the Pegasi still guarding the doorway behind. Nightmare Moon returned the contact, nuzzling the smaller alicorn briefly before breaking the contact and shaking her mane.
You know I am here always. Still, it would be better for you to spend time with your sister, other ponies ... Anypony.
Luna scowled, stepping away and shaking her own horn in defiance. “Some ponies have invisible friends!”
Some do, Nightmare Moon replied after a moment’s consideration. But none of them are over a thousands of years old like you, Little One ... And secondly, none of their invisible friends—
“I don’t care!” Luna shouted, interrupting herself. The taller mare bowed in apology, and the two walked on through the winding corridors until they reached the narrow walkway linking the rest of the Royal Palace to the Tower of the Moon. Looking up to the sky, Nightmare Moon frowned at the glum somewhat-blackness that stared back, starless and boring.
You did not raise the Moon again.
Luna shook her head, trotting onwards and making it clear the conversation was not open for discussion.
Perhaps tomorrow, Nightmare Moon sighed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Pushing the last book into place on the shelf, Spike brushed the dust from his claws and nodded. “All done, Twilight!” He called out expectantly.
After a few moments’ silence, the tiny dragon peered around the corner of the bookcase at the purple-tinged unicorn sat at the reading table and paying him absolutely no heed whatsoever. Clearing his lungs, his voice echoed around the library.
“Twilight!” He bellowed, “I said I’m all done with the books!”
Nothing.
Huffing, Spike scratched at a scale on his behind and frowned; surely she couldn’t still be upset about what happened yesterday? Besides, she didn’t seem like the type of pony to hold a grudge ...
“You’re not still mad about last night, are you?” He broached. His reply was nothing more than a swish of mane and an upturned snout. It seemed Twilight was the kind of pony to hold a grudge, and she was grudging him like there was no tomorrow ...
... Which, when Spike thought about it, was an infinitely better option were there to indeed be no tomorrow. Definitely better than something scarier ... Like Zombie Ponies ...
Shuddering, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Clearly he would have to use all his dragonic cunning, all his guile, to get Twilight to give up the pony and talk to him.
“So I was thinking about breakfast,” He began, perched at the edge of the bookcase and watching Twilight carefully for any outward signs of any possible attention being paid. Nothing.
“Got some pancakes ... Even found a little Sweet Apple Acres ‘sweet apple sauce in the kitchen ...”
Zip. She was one tough unicorn, but of course there was always ... No. Unleashing that would be too terrible a thing to contemplate, it’d be like opening a box of parasprites! Still, the alternative seemed to be living in absolute silence for the rest of his life. Puffing out his chest and taking the plunge, Spike wandered over and pressing his back against a leg of Twilight’s reading table, pretended to inspect his claws for dirt.
“Hey! I spoke to Rarity today!”
The chair Twilight sat on screeched ever so slightly the merest inch across the wooden floor.
“I thought maybe it was just a phase, you know? But the more I see her, the more I know she’s the pony for me, Twilight! She’s just so graceful, so proper, so ... Did I mention graceful? And her horn, what a horn! It’s like a sculpture, so pointy! I wish I could eat her all up ...”
Screech. Screech. No going back now ...
“So, uh, I invited her over later today; hope you don’t mind or anything ... ‘Cause I sort of pretended you wanted to see her. Just because I get embarrassed and I didn’t want her to say no. Told her you needed help redesigning your whole wardrobe and you only trusted her to go through it all—“
“Spike!” Twilight barked, slamming the book on the desk closed with a flash of magic almost as bright as the flash of red across the unicorn’s cheeks. “I’ve listened to you whittle on for hours! I feel like Princess Celestia – know how? Because listening to you go on and on and on and on makes me feel like I’ve been around for a thousand years!”
An awkward silence fell between the two, stretching into minutes before being punctuated by a wide grin splitting Spike’s lips. “Glad we made it up, Twilight; I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me!”
“Oh I’m mad!” The purple pony groaned, rubbing a hoof against her forehead. “You just won’t let me be mad in peace!”
Spike shrugged, “I said I was sorry ...”
“You ruined the whole night’s work!” Twilight glared, gesturing towards the canvas perched against the table leg opposite that might once have held a masterpiece, were it not covered almost entirely in bright orange paint.
The dragon’s smile didn’t falter, “The tube was stuck! I thought you might need it so ...”
“I was painting a nightscape! When have you ever seen orange in a nightscape!”
Spike had the good grace to look sheepish, his claws linking together behind his back as he scratched at the floor with a sharp toe. “If it makes you feel any better, I was just kidding about Rarity ...”
“Well, that’s something!” Twilight muttered, flicking her mane from her eyes and giving her assistant a long, hard look. “Were you lying about the pancakes and the Sweet Apple Acres sweet apple sauce?”
“Nope!” Spike beamed. “I’ll get to it right away!”
Nodding as she levitated the ruined painting up onto the desktop with a wave of her horn, Twilight rolled her eyes and offered the library a shrug. “Oh well ...” She sighed. “Maybe I’ll paint it again tonight ...”
A loud knocking from the front door gave the unicorn a welcome distraction from the orange disaster at her hooves. “I’ll get it!”
Twilight barely had time to unlatch the door with a flash of her horn and pull it open, before the whole thing suddenly flew back with the force of a runaway applecart. Stumbling backwards and falling onto her rump, Twilight looked up into the wide eyes of another of the Elements of Harmony.
“Sugarcube!” Applejack pounced, “You taken’ a walk outside lately?”
“Not this morning,” Twilight grumbled, climbing back to her hooves and shaking the dust from her mane. “What’s wrong, AJ?”
Applejack span on the spot, motioning with her foreleg before galloping out into the street. “Might be just a lil’ quicker if ah’ show you what I’m talkin’ about!”
Shrugging her shoulders, Twilight trotted outside after the excitable orange pony. She didn’t need to catch up Applejack to see what it was she seemed so alarmed about ... Or rather, what wasn’t there to seem so alarmed about.
Narrowing her eyes, the purple unicorn searched the pale, pale sky; more like a hue of winter white than the pastel blue of a full-blown summer season. Hanging high in the sky the sun barely deserved its name - a weak circle of sickly yellow that succeeded in defining its own outline, and little more. Twilight shivered, aware of the chill in the air that replaced the warmth everypony expected, and the cloud of breath that billowed from her nose ...
What in the name of Celestia had happened to the Sun?
Arcing between the endless grey clouds that seemed to hang impossibly low in the sky, occasionally tearing itself free of the air to strike down against the treetops swaying in the driving winds and rain below, the lightning served as nothing more than a backdrop to the greater powers on display. The fury it displayed; shearing apart bark and burning green canopies to ash paled in comparison to the rage directed not at the land, or the sky, but a solitary alabaster blur and the rainbow trailing behind it through the downpour.
Both the land and the sky, however, felt the wrath of that attention.
Coruscating beams of light tracked across the low sky, honing in on the ghostly-white target. Where the twisting ribbons missed their mark, they simply obliterated whatever it was that stood in place. Great walls of stone, belonging to a structure that had stood for longer than the two warring spirits surrounding it had lived, exploded into debris no greater than powder. Perfectly square blocks, painstakingly carved by magic and hoof and weighing ten times that of the largest ponies, were spirited up as if made from nothing and hurled at that same, elusive target.
Delicate tapestries of the Sun and the Moon hanging inside caught ablaze, spreading to consume room upon room and with them countless rarities, antiques and memories each contained. The flickering light of the flames licked about window frames, blackening the bright white of the exterior walls after melting through stained glass murals and tales of legend. Spirited out by the howling winds that whipped about the great, gaping holes blown in the stone, burning debris rained down to set the courtyards on fire.
The Castle of the Two Sisters burned. Stone, memories, flowers and all.
“Face me!” A voice bellowed, easily climbing above the din of collapsing structure and terrible weather. Midnight blue-on-black it took to the air with enormous, pointed wings and features set harder than any rock or stone it had yet blasted apart. The raw power the creature commanded bathed and swirled about it, hiding the details of its hooves and mane in twisting bands of purple and cobalt. Only the bright, silver slither of a crescent moon shining from its flank stood out to accompany the rage it wore so plainly.
At one point, she had been known by a simple name, but names were labels for the finite, the mortal ... Not for Goddesses; not for creatures who could command the sky and everything inside it.
“Celestia!” She roared, climbing higher until she flew level with the very highest spire of the Castle she had set about cleaving and tearing asunder. “Celestia! Face me or I shall burn it all! I shall burn everything!”
Little One ...
Bolting upright from the mattress before her eyes had finished opening, Luna took a deep, shuddering breath as her conscious mind caught up with her body and finally recalled the minor details of where exactly she was. Roughly shoving her damp mane up and away from her features, hindlegs dangling over the edge of the bed, the Princess rubbed at the sweat stinging her eyes with a weary hoof.
Aware of a comforting presence behind, Luna leaned back and into the warmth of the embrace, heavy eyelids threatening to close as she felt strong, pointed wings extend around her. You have not dreamed of such things in a very long time.
Luna frowned, sinking further down into the mattress and away from the gentle voice at her ear. “Too early ...” She mumbled, sighing contentedly.
Withdrawing her snout and wings to fold smartly against her black coat and eliciting a grumble of discontent from the young Princess for her trouble Nightmare Moon – or at least a fragment of such – gently extracted herself from the embrace. Dropping down to the carpeted floor she ambled around the bed, over towards the heavy drapes that separated the bedchamber from the balcony outside.
Look outside, the remnant urged. Rubbing at her eyes and muttering incoherently, Luna pushed her hindlegs over the bed’s edge and made hard work of setting one hoof in front of the other. Absent-mindedly parting the curtains with a flash of magic the Princess took barely a single step outside, regarding the day with half an open eye.
Her senses all competed to be the first to show Luna what was so very wrong with the scene. Eyes fixed on the pale disc hanging so high she might block it out entirely with a single raised hoof, her snout flared with the chill of the cold air. Chilly enough that it numbed the alicorn’s throat and pricked her coat. Stumbling backwards and hastily commanding the drapes back together with a panicked thought, Luna struggled to find her voice.
Not quite the eternal night I had hoped for.
“That is not funny!” The Princess scolded, earning an apologetic dip of the head from the larger pony. Wheeling away Nightmare Moon padded across to the bed, leaping up to nestle in the tussled blankets as she looked over towards the drapes.
“ ... It is as if winter comes,” Luna muttered, shaking her mane in confusion and angling her head back over her shoulder. “What has happened?”
The remnant of what had once been the sum of the Princess’ jealousy and rage pursed her lips as if considering the question. Eventually she shrugged her slender shoulders, It is like no winter we have ever seen. As for what causes it, I do not control the Sun, Little One; as much as I might like to.
Luna’s snout wrinkled in an even deeper frown. “Sometimes I do not believe we were ever one and the same ... I would never find that funny.”
I agree, Nightmare Moon offered with a small smile. You were never particularly amusing on your own.
Rolling her eyes, the Princess turned her attention back to the heavy curtains still drawn over the serious problem outside. Bidding them open once again and doing her best to ignore the icy chill of the cold air as it rushed inside, Luna closed her eyes and focused her attention up into the sky. Horn shimmering with effort she reached out, seeking to touch the Sun as anypony might touch a hoof to a door.
Nothing.
Eyes blinking open, Luna grit her teeth and used the surge of anger she felt to bolster her powers. She leaned forwards, the shimmer of her magic brightening until it cast rolling shadows about her chambers. The Princess pushed out further, higher, stronger.
There! The slightest resistance, the smallest counter to her pressure; Luna could feel the fantastic power that could only belong to something as enormous and mighty as the Sun, or the Moon. The Alicorn was straining with the effort of it all however, and quickly what little response she felt from so far away faded. Luna tried once more, coat prickling with sweat as she forced her magic to even greater distance but she could not feel the sun again.
Puffing her cheeks out and falling back on her haunches, Luna frowned. Whilst she had never dealt with anything other than her night and the objects therein – and she had not raised even them in over a thousand years – the Princess found it difficult to believe the day could be so challenging. Maybe she just didn’t have it in her to—
Your magic is not what it once was, Nightmare Moon interrupted from her side as if sharing the thought. which Luna supposed she did. The Sun should still respond to you, in some fashion, as the Moon responds to Celestia. There is something more at work; perhaps you should seek out your sister.
Nodding at the suggestion, the Princess stood and trotted towards the doorway joining her chambers to the rest of the Tower of the Moon. She got no further than commanding the tall doors to swing open, when a gold-capped hoof stepped out from the corridor to block her path.
Taking a moment to adjust to Luna’s unexpected presence before glancing down with a warm smile, Celestia dipped her snout downwards to nuzzle her younger sister. Tensing for a few moments as her mind and body overcame the sudden surprise, Luna returned the gesture; enjoying the contact and the closeness it brought. She missed these simple pleasures the most.
“Good Morning,” Celestia whispered aside her sister’s ear, withdrawing her muzzle reluctantly to focus on Luna. “You're up so early ...”
Virtually everypony the length and breadth of Equestria held Celestia up as the living embodiment of their land. They looked to her to keep their homes and families safe, and prayed for her intervention and blessings during difficult harvests or troublesome times. None questioned her integrity, her wisdom or her power and as such, she projected serenity and peace. As far as the entire Principality and its myriad subjects were concerned, there was nothing she could not accomplish.
Luna was not everypony, however. Millennia spent with her sister meant she could see the tightening around Celestia’s eyes, the stiff posture, and the slightest hint of something stirring beneath the ceramic cool of her royal disposition. The smile the taller alicorn gave was genuine, undoubtedly, but there was something else; something more than an unusual (but welcome) early-morning nuzzle.
“Sometimes I like to see your sunrise.”
Luna sighed inwardly, knowing that same innate knowledge of her sister’s true feeling was equally Celestia’s own when it came to anything the Goddess of the Night tried to keep buried. She could see her sister’s eyes narrow, as if Celestia were weighing up whether to let the lie slide, or turn it over to expose the truth. Being unwilling to discuss the dream which had forced her to wake so unpleasantly – for equal parts embarrassment at mentioning it and fear of having had it – Luna hoped for the former.
Glancing away from her younger sister and up to the open curtains and the weak daylight streaming into the chambers, Celestia chose to grant Luna that small mercy. “Something's wrong with me ...”
“The Sun?” Luna mumbled, already knowing the answer before Celestia’s rainbow mane dipped. “It took everything I could find to even feel it in the sky ...”
Celestia’s eyes widened, and Luna instinctively knew the problem had become all the more worse. “I'd hoped it was something confined to my magic ...” The taller princess sighed, allowing her frustration to bubble upwards. “If we're both affected—“
“My magic is not what it once was,” Luna offered, as if her own inability might make the situation better. Celestia shook her snout, kindness in her eyes as she gave her younger sister a small smile.
“You'd be as powerful today as ten centuries ago if you practiced ...”
Celestia’s eyes returning to the daylight visible over the balcony ahead. Following her gaze, Luna turned to face the curtains billowing at the cold wind whipping inside, worry etched across her features.
Instinctively stepping across to press herself against her sister’s brilliant white coat, the smaller Princess felt some of her fear subside as a great wing settled over her back and pulled against her tightly. “How will you correct it?”
Glancing down at her younger sister, letting all the aloofness and tranquillity of her royal duties fall by the wayside, Celestia gave up any pretence of being the all-knowing Goddess of the Sun her ponies far and wide believed her to be.
“I don’t know Luna ...” She whispered.
~*~*~*~*~*~
With a final buck and powerful kick, the stone column teetered over and fell into the long grass with a soft thud. Scrutinising the work of his broad hooves with a satisfied nod an enormous pony – almost as tall as the eldest of the Royal Sisters and far wider – trotted over towards a far more diminutive, dumpy unicorn busily gorging himself.
“All done?” He slurred, words hurried by his tongue as it chased chunks of apple. The towering earth pony opposite nodded his snout, though his eyes were focused on the trees that surrounded the enormous clearing they occupied. “Can we go now?”
“Boxer ...” The chubby unicorn sighed, biting down on the last chunk of apple levitating in front of his lips with a loud crunch. “What am I good at?”
The powerful pony above dug a massive hoof into the damp grass, churning the soil beneath as he thought hard. “ … Ideas?”
“That's right – ideas! Plans! Plots and permutations!” The Unicorn nodded, as Boxer mirrored the nod with one of his own and looked pleased with himself for answering correctly. “Now why do you think I bring you along? What are you so very good at?”
The ground took another thorough hoof-pounding. “Hard work?”
“Well, I'm not sure if I'd call it that ...” The chunky pony grumbled as he climbed to his hooves and ambled over to inspect the tipped stone nearby. “I provide the theory, you provide the practice, the physical. I build the plough, you pull it … That's how our partnership works!”
Boxer cast his long snout over his shoulder, as if the rustling trees hid something else he couldn't quite see. “We shouldn't be here, Napoleon ...”
The portly pony scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The Everfree Forest is just that, Boxer – it's a forest! Trees and grass and a parapsrite or fifty, and that's it!”
“But--”
“You like apples, don't you?” Napoleon interrupted, glancing about his hooves for one before realising they'd all been consigned to the pit of his stomach. “Especially those Sweet Apple Acres' crop?”
Boxer nodded, “Sure do.”
“Well unfortunately my honest and simple friend, the Apple Family don't just give their famous crop away. Equestria turns on bits, whether it's apples or houses or coatshine and it's up to me to make sure you're taken care of. That means we need to make bits, and that means we take on jobs.”
“But--”
“If filling your stomach isn't enough justification, think of all the ponies you'll be helping! Building homes is a long and complex process, Boxer – and it's expensive. All this stone, all this stone that's just lain around here for as long as anypony can remember … Doing nothing, except giving home to moss! Mister Salesbury can use it to build new houses, and the bits he'll save instead of having to go to those rip-off ponies up at Muddytop Quarry, well … That'll reward us faithfully for all this effort we're putting in, won't it?”
Still looking less-than-convince, Boxer pursed his lips and shook his mane lightly. “Ponies shouldn't be in here--”
“There's no statutory law on Equestria's books that forbids entry into the Everfree Forest!” Napolean insisted, pointing a hoof accusingly at the far taller pony. “I would never dream of involving us in anything illegal; I hope you're not insinuating this job is anything other than strictly proper!”
“Nothing to do with laws,” Boxer whispered, almost to himself. “Ponies say the Forest doesn't sleep, that strange things live between the trees ...”
Napolean guffawed. “Old Mares' tales! The very idea of this being anything more than a forest is ridiculous! Come now, what would other ponies think if they heard you saying such things … What would AppleJack say?”
Boxer turned away, mumbling something incoherent. “That's what I thought! Now that's quite enough of that; we've got work to be getting on with.”
With a flash of his horn, Napolean worked to levitate the stone slab still lying on the grass up into the air and, eventually, the short distance over to the waiting cart. Letting the stone drop onto the bed of the cart with a thump, the pudgy pony made a great show of wiping his mane with a hoof, and generally making sure the difficulty of the feat wasn't lost on his larger friend.
“Phew!” Napolean groaned, Dropping down to his haunches and sucking in a deep breath. “On you go, Boxer! Knock over the next one!”
Trundling around to present his flank to the next enormous stone cropping, Boxer frowned and looked up at the bulk of the enormous … Whatever it had once been, climbing up to ten times the height of the surrounding trees. “Do you know what this is?”
“Hmm?” Napolean murmured, his eyelids drooping closed as he nestled into the long grass. “The ruins? Oh, supposedly it was once a Royal Castle of some sort … Allegedly. Though I don't believe it myself; it doesn't look a patch on Canterlot. I can't see the Princesses living here.”
“Doesn't make sense to me ...”
Sighing, Napoleon sat up and blew his mane out from his eyes with a puff of breath. “What doesn't?”
“Stones been lying here a long time,” Boxer explained, gesturing with a rear leg to the slab standing behind his flank. “Mister Salesbury is clever, but there's been plenty clever ponies before. None of them ever thought the same thing, tried to take the stone away?”
Settling back, Napoleon dismissed the notion with a wave of his hoof. “Maybe it has been tried before, but they didn't have muscle like you, Boxer, did they? Don't worry about it, and focus on knocking the stone down. That'll take your mind off all this nonsense.”
The enormous earth pony looked as if he might argue on, but instead held his tongue and turned his attention back to the task at hand. Taking a long, steadying breath he threw his hind legs backwards – driving sturdy hooves into the stone with a resounding thud that sent chunks of grass and dirt flying up into the air. The enormous block teetered for a moment and unable to resist the pull of gravity in addition to the bucking it had received, collapsed onto the soft ground with a muffled squelch.
Turning expectantly towards the cart, Boxer caught sight of the snoring, chubby unicorn nestled in the long grass as he swung his powerful frame away from the fallen stone. “Napoleon!”
Grumbling something unintelligible, Boxer's “partner” rolled over and buried his face into the soft greenery he'd fashioned into a pillow. Ambling over to the makeshift bed, the tall earth pony carefully stopped his head down and pressed his muzzle into the smaller unicorn's side, repeatedly. “Napoleon!”
“ … I can assure you, Miss Cheerilee … I have no idea how our new roof could have leaked so quickly … Of course, I understand … Might I suggest a bucket? Of course … You tried? All over Applebloom? No, that simply won't do … Closing the school would be unfortunate— ”
“Napoleon!” Boxer shouted, sending the unicorn bolting upright in a flail of hooves and mane. Spluttering and coughing and looking most indignant, Napoleon frowned and smoothed the ruffled hair hanging over his eyes back behind his ears.
The earth pony took a heavy step backwards as his partner shifted on his grassy cushion. “Is there something wrong with the new school roof we built?”
“Hmm? Roof? Oh, the roof!” Napoleon stammered, his eyes refusing to meet Boxer's as he tried to think. “Minor hiccups! Trifling corrections! I'm taking care of it, not to worry.”
The powerful pony opposite seemed less than convinced. “I don't want ponies to talk about us badly, thinking I don't work hard enough. I always do the best I can.”
Napoleon waved a hoof dismissively, and shook his snout. “Not to worry, my friend! It remains a minor snag I have well under control … Now what exactly did you wake me for? As I've explained before, it might look as if I'm sleeping but really I'm resting my eyes while I think about all the very great multitude of many things I have to think about.”
“Stone's ready for lifting,” Boxer gruffly replied, not entirely sure what “multitude” even meant. Lifting himself up with a long, drawn-out sigh, Napoleon trotted around his partner's large frame and frowned.
“Perhaps you're the one sleeping ...” He chuckled, much to Boxer's confusion as the earth pony turned to see the very same stone he'd brought crashing to the ground a few minutes earlier once again firmly standing, as if it had never received as much as glance let alone a bucking.
Boxer shook his muzzle in confusion. “I bucked it over … I know I did. Heard it fall and saw it flat on its back with my own ears and eyes.”
“Far be it from me to question your ears and eyes,” The unicorn replied with a wide yawn. “It appears to stand, anyway. Quickly now; let's have it down so we can take these two slabs back to Ponyville in time for a late breakfast.”
The empty stomach and the thought of food filling it after a hard morning's work pushed questions of what Boxer had – or hadn't – seen to the back of his mind. Manoeuvring around to present his flank to the slab, the powerful pony took a steadying breath and crashed his hind hooves backwards and down against the rock.
Settling back onto all fours, Boxer cast his head over his shoulders, glancing behind himself at the slab that remained firmly standing and showing no worse the wear for the tremendous impact it had just endured. Not bothering to wait for an invitation, he kicked out again. And again. Each impact a little more powerful than before, driven by the earth pony's increasing frustration at the slab's incredible staying power.
“What a stubborn rock ...” Napoleon mused from afar, chewing absent-mindedly on an apple core.
On the fifth attempt the stone surrendered and toppled backwards. Boxer, however, did not have time to take pride in his success and Napoleon had none in which to congratulate his colleague.
The attention of both ponies was instead stolen by a twisting ribbon of light, erupting from the sunken ground where the slab had stood a moment before toppling. A coruscating collection of all the colours one could imagine, bending and flexing and running together into something that defined explanation. It continued upwards at impossible speeds, tracking high into the sky, shimmering. And then it exploded.
The two ponies squeezed their eyes shut, turning away from the blinding light that burst forth and covered everything in white. Both remained still, frozen with hooves clamped over their features as the surrounding forest returned to the solitude it had known before. Eventually, hesitantly, Boxer chanced a glance about himself. He frowned.
“Has it gone?” Napoleon squeaked, still refusing to open his eyes.
Boxer nodded, “Think so.”
It was the unicorn who first saw that it was not the only thing to vanish. The troublesome slab that had earlier taken five buckings to dislodge once against stood upright, plugging the spot from which the incredible multi-coloured something had burst forth from. The stone already loaded into the cart had disappeared, and a quick glance around saw it standing where Boxer had knocked it from earlier in the morning … As if he had never even bothered to try.
“Never should have come here ...” Boxer ventured, shaking his mane mournfully.
Napoleon coughed nervously, fidgeting with his mane as he surveyed … Whatever it was this was. “Perhaps, in the interests of prudent sensibility, and of course, our own well-being in matters of uncertainty such as this, it would serve us well to expedite our return to Ponyville ...”
“Let's go home,” The earth pony translated gratefully. The unicorn nodded, and both ponies broke into a faster-than-gentle gallop away from the clearing, leaving the cart and some very old, very odd stones far behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Applejack didn't know of the precise mechanics behind how the sun worked; she knew only what she needed to – that it rose in the morning and set in the evening and between those two points, it shone brightly. If any of those three simple things went amiss, then that was enough to let the plain-speaking pony know something was wrong. Fortunately, there were others who knew more about the exact science behind it, like the good friend standing right next to her.
“C'mon Twilight,” Applejack prompted, trying to hide the worry in her voice. “This is your kinda’ thing – Please put 'mah mind at ease here and tell me you know what's happenin' with the sky.”
Dimly aware her friend was saying something, Twilight couldn't help but feel entranced by the sight above, unable to tear her eyes aware from a sight equal parts astounding and worrying. A chill wind whipping past her snout brought her back to the present, and Twilight shook her head slowly. “I've … Never seen anything like it!”
Swallowing nervously, Applejack glanced around and down the empty streets of Ponyville. At such an early hour, only farmers like her and night owls – like Twilight – would be found up and about. With the new day now well under way however, that would quickly change and soon two confused ponies would be multiplied a hundred-fold. They would need answers. She needed answers!
Allowing the initial shock to sink in, Twilight quickly felt her analytical nature reassert itself and demand she calm down, focus and get to grips with the problem at hoof. Parties were for Pinkie Pie, dresses for Rarity and small animals, Fluttershy.
Problem-solving was Twilight Sparkle's forte.
“We need to contact the Princess,” She announced firmly. Applejack smiled in relief. She was all over a good plan.
“Sure are good pancakes, Twi,” Spike half-mumbled between mouthfuls of said pancakes as he meandered through the open door to join the other ponies. Shivering at the sudden change in temperature Spike's eyes grew wide as he saw the same thing that had so shocked his friends a few minutes before.
“Spike! No time for pancakes! Take a letter for the Princess!”
Nodding dumbly and jogging back into the Library to fetch the quill and parchment, Applejack scratched at the soft ground with her hoof as she glanced back up at the pale day. “Ah sure hope this ain't nothing too serious, Twi' … Harvest's only a few weeks away. Can't afford no upsets like this. Sure is a fragile time for apples ...”
“The Princess will know what to do,” Twilight nodded confidently. The Princess always knew what to do.
Out of breath from both running and eating, Spike skidded to a halt, bent over with claws on his knees. “Okay ...” He wheezed, wiping a bead of sweat from his scales. “Ready … To … Just a minute … Go!”
Nodding, Twilight swished her tail aside and began dictating. “Dear Princess Celestia—”
A groan, gurgle, burp and flash of green flame interrupted the purple unicorn as Spike stumbled backwards, clutched his stomach and belched out a wrapped parchment. Instantly levitating it up to her eyes with a flicker of magic and untying its binding ribbon, Twilight scanned the words.
Applejack nudged over, trying to see the scroll over the unicorn's shoulders. “What's it say, Twi?”
Folding it away before she could get beyond “My faithful student ...”, Twilight galloped through the open front door and back into the library with Spike and Applejack in hot pursuit. Skidding to a halt they watched their friend frantically toss open chests and drawers with a flurry of magical power; clothing, quills, books – lots of books – and all manner of sundries flying through the air in shimmering auras and being crammed forth into saddlebags.
“Twilight!” Applejack shouted, finally gaining the unicorn's attention even if objects continued to zip across the library at speed. “What in tarnation did yer' letter say!?”
“We're going to Canterlot!”
Applejack blinked, mouth agape while she struggled for words. “Now wait an apple-pickin' minute! Who's goin'? When? Jus' slow down and give me a lil' more information, sugarcube—”
The tapping of Spike's claw on her hind legs forced her to turn away from Twilight and towards the open door, mouth dropping open once more as she took in the sight before her. Dressed in shining plates of brilliant gold and towering as high as Big Mac himself, a half-dozen pegasi of the Royal Guard of Equestria filed in through the library doorway without fanfare. Barely visible behind the powerful stallions, a royal chariot stood shining as well.
And waiting.
“I guess we're leaving now,” Spike shrugged, finally being the one to answer Applejack's question when it least mattered.
Government was a curious, multi-headed beast which possessed extraordinary powers of expansion. If not actively reigned in or at least monitored, it quickly gave rise to a self-sustaining bureaucracy; generating almost as much work in simply existing as it was supposed to lift from the shoulders of everyday ponies.
An enormous, convoluted pyramid in which information passed upwards; from the many to the few and actions from those same few, downwards. As a result with each step up the hierarchy, the raw incoming data swelled and the decisions made based on that data became increasingly important – with wide-ranging ramifications for every pony making up that pyramid.
Fortunately for Equestria, the ponies at the summit of said pyramid were immortal goddesses, with dominion over the Sun, Moon and Stars and wielding magic far in excess of even the great Star Swirl. There was no limit to the information they could handle, no decision too enormous or challenging for them to make.
Unfortunately for Equestria, said goddesses were obliged to spend much of their time communing with their little ponies; hearing questions, concerns, grievances and where necessary, redressing them. When it came to the day-to-day running of the Principality a chocolate-brown, greying stallion by the name of Church Hill was their stand-in; their designated executor.
Doubly unfortunately for Equestria, he was anything but a god and at times like these – with the surface of his desk rapidly disappearing under reams of panicked interdepartmental memos – he doubted he even had dominion over his own office.
Most of the vast machinery of government was hidden from the average pony. It watched and waited; trained, able and ready to react to any incident. Clear lines of authority and seniority meant any incident, no matter how lowly or shattering, would escalate smoothly and speedily to the eye of whichever pony had the ability to solve it.
That was the theory. In practice,there were two major drawbacks. Firstly, the system was creaking under the weight of its own bloated size. Secondly …
A loud knocking at the door shook Church Hill from his thoughts, a deep frown crumpling his features as he refocused his attentions on the sea of paper threatening to drown him. A second thumping of hoof-against-wood was more than his stretched patience could stand.
“I couldn't fit any more reports in here if I started taping them to my flank!” He bellowed. “Find somepony else's wastepaper bucket to fill!”
Undeterred, the door nonetheless swung open to admit a tall, pale stallion garbed in the ceremonial gold of the Royal Guard. “ … I'm hoping somewhere in that pile you can tell me something I don't already know.”
“I'd love to chat, Captain, but the entire government is quite busy sending me the same report, appended with different cutie marks and varying wordage, telling me precisely the same thing and asking exactly the same question—“
Church Hill abruptly stopped mid-rant, clutching a piece of paper in his mouth and slapping it onto the top of a half-dozen others. “Under-Department for Solar Movements and Timings?! Am I to assume I'll shortly be contacted by the Office of Ice Cream and Party Hats? When did government get so … Unwieldy?”
For his part, Shining Armour could manage only a smile. “I believe not long after the military stopped being the primary method for solving the government's problems.”
Church Hill Snorted, “A military dictatorship would surely generate much less paperwork!”
The Captain of the Royal Guard nodded, the smile disappearing from his features as he moved to the pressing business at hoof. “What do we know?”
“Well I don't know what you know,” Church Hill sighed, finally glancing up from his desk. “But I'll hazard a guess that it's somewhere between “Very little” and “Almost nothing”. In all seriousness, we know precisely as much as anypony who sticks their head outside and looks up at the sky. For some reason – some unknown reason – the Sun is shining as brightly as it might on a short afternoon of the longest and darkest winter … In the middle of summer!”
Shining Armour nodded. “... And the Princesses?”
The old Stallion shook his mane ruefully. “Celestia made it clear, via a particularly terse message relayed by one of your particularly terse guardsponies, that she was not to be interrupted under any circumstances.”
“Surely this qualifies as exceptional?” Shining Armour replied with a scowl, earning nothing more than a shrug and the same answer he'd received before from the greying Prime Pony. “Not to be interrupted ...” Church Hill repeated slowly, punctuating each word harshly, “Under. Any. Circumstances.”
The Captain of he Royal Guard nodded, settling back on his haunches. “I've recalled all guardsponies to active duty, and have doubled patrols around the castle and Canterlot as a whole.”
“Oh, excellent!” Church Hill sarcastically enthused, rolling his eyes behind the iron-framed glasses he wore. “We'll be well placed should the order come to prepare to invade the Sun and show it the error of its ways!”
Shining Armour chose not to take the bait. “Princess Luna?”
“What of her?” Church Hill muttered bitterly, “I imagine at this time of day – though it barely qualifies as such – she'll be fast asleep. Even were she wide awake and standing right in front of us, I imagine she'd be of limited use given her reluctance to get involved in … Well, anything much. At all. Haven't you anything more important to be getting on with, Captain? Didn't they give you a desk? Why isn't it overflowing like mine?”
Shining Armour shrugged his shoulders, a ghost of a smile playing across his muzzle. “Other than reading an incident report from a patrol near the Everfree Forest, it's surprisingly empty. I have a junior officer take care of most of the paperwork.”
“Hmph!” Church Hill grunted, “Chance would be a fine thing! Most of this stuff is too important, apparently, to be dealt with by anyone other than me. An incident at the Everfree Forest, eh? What transpired?”
“I didn't have time to read the whole thing before … Well, whatever it is that's happened to the Sun happened, but I caught the gist. Two ponies broke the Royal Edict banning entry into Everfree without permission, apparently to help themselves to the stone making up some of the ruins deep inside the forest. Working for a Salesbury, one of those property magnates from Manehatten or so they said.”
“Oh, I know of him,” Church Hill sneered. “Desecration of restricted stoneworks? As good a reason as any to throw out his dangerous, greedy development and put it to bed once and for all! How'd you come across them, anyway? I wasn't aware patrols venture very far into Everfree.”
Shining Armour shook his mane. “They don't – the pair came galloping out, almost crashed into a half-dozen guardsponies on hoof; gibbering about magical explosions and stone righting itself back into the ground after they'd bucked them clean over. Didn't make a whole lot of sense. We're holding them while they calm down and we can get a straight answer out of the pair ...”
An awkward silence descended between the two stallions, one looking thoughtful as the older one continued to frown and pour over the papers on his desk. “Where is Princess Celestia, exactly?”
“What?” Church Hill grumbled, glancing up at the Captain of the Guard as if only just noticing his entry into the room. “Oh, the Royal Archives, I believe. First Circle Collection, no less. Whatever it is she's looking for, we can be sure nopony since Star Swirl has seen it either—“
Another knocking at the door interrupted Church Hill, who sucked in a lungful of air to blast a volley of choice words at the newest interruption. The lashing died on his lips however as he spied the yellow band tied around a scroll, levitating in the air as it was delivered through the door by a unicorn of the Royal Guard.
Equestria's Prime Pony snatched the scroll from the messenger, who paused only long enough to salute his commanding officer, Shining Armour, before about facing and trotting from the office; taking care to close the door with another bout of unicorn magic.
“It's from Celestia ...” Church Hill announced as soon as his eyes caught up with his mind, dropping the open parchment to the desktop and reclining on the cushion he sat upon. “Prepare to receive visitors to the castle, Captain ...”
“ … Your sister and the Elements of Harmony are paying the capital a visit.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Twilight Sparkle didn't love books; it was an annoying generalisation that seemed to follow her around as surely as the eight-pointed star on her flank. What she craved, desired – loved even – was knowledge. Some ponies got their thrills from swooping and soaring on the breeze … Like a certain rainbow-haired mare she knew. Some took joy from a good (and honest) hard day's work … Like a certain farmer she knew. Still others found it in a smile, or helping pull a thorn from a bunny's paw, or designing yet another marvellous dress.
Information was Twilight's guilty pleasure. It just so happened that the biggest, most accessible sum of pony knowledge could be found in the form of books. Quite coincidentally, the largest repository of books just happened to be a library, which she happened to live in and thus, unavoidably, spent most of her free time in.
Twilight Sparkle didn't love books. They were just convenient. She could stop reading them any time she wanted to. As if an inanimate object, just paper and words, could hold any kind of power over her. The very idea was preposterous!
Slamming the book below closed with a touch of magic before levitating it to join the dozen or so dusty tomes piled high beside her, Twilight wrinkled her nose in a frown. If her interest in books was only because of the information they contained, then the lack of knowledge they were providing her right now meant she positively hated them.
Maybe this was all just a waste of time. Still, she had to be sure and that meant more reading. Shrugging her shoulders, Twilight guided down the next thick volume from the rapidly emptying shelving above her horn. It always paid to be thorough, after all … And hate was such a strong word.
Ears pressing against the side of her head, Twilight gave up the pretence. She wasn't fooling anyone – especially herself. She loved books like she loved making checklists.
Glancing up from her books and her monologue, Twilight came face-to-chest with a very familiar, alabaster-coated pony. A very important, very familiar pony. Eyes widening, she struggled up to her hooves, overturning the heavy book and sending it crashing to the floor from the desk. “Princess!”
Offering a small smile, Celestia dipped her head – doing her best to ignore the heavy mane that now draped over her shoulders, robbed of the ethereal wind that usually carried it so invisibly and so easily.
“My Faithful Student … Have you made any progress?”
Glancing at the pile of books by the desk, Twilight hung her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “I'm sorry Princess; I've only been able to get through twelve of the forty-eight volumes on the Combined Illustrated History of Equestria, Preceding States and Neighbours.”
“Twelve?” Celestia chuckled, her eyes widening slightly as she surveyed the empty space on the shelving above the desk. “My dear Twilight … You've read twelve volumes already?”
“Twice!” She admitted, levitating the fallen thirteenth book back onto the desktop. “In case I missed something on my first read-through.”
“Then I dare say your efforts have surpassed mine,” The Princess of the Sun soothed. “What did you discover?”
Pushing the nervousness that gnawed on the pit of her stomach even further down, Twilight fell back on her tried-and-tested talent for the organisational, the logistical. Whenever her mind struggled with the endless intricacies of socialising, it could always be relied upon when it came to facts. Sweet, cold, black-and-white facts. No interpretation, no exposition. Just read and repeat. She sucked in a lungful of air and launched into her answer.
“At first I focused on the study of Solar – that is, I mean – your magic; ponies have been trying to understand its subtitles for almost as long as they've been writing books. I hit my first dead end there, I mean, how is anypony supposed to learn anything really specific about how you do what you do with the Sun? There were hundreds, thousands of articles but none of them went into any real depth.”
Twilight pursed her lips, scanning her eyes around the books scattered around the main pile she'd accumulated. “Then I got to thinking that instead of going through the entire ponywork on Solar Magic, I should just find the greatest unicorn expert on it and go from there.”
Finding the book in question, she quickly levitated it up into the air and span through its many pages. “Unsurprisingly, Star Swirl the Bearded was that unicorn. He wrote a book … Actually four and a fifth as an appendix, Called “A Treatise of the Magic of the Alicorn of the Sun”. It was really quite a fascinating read, I mean, did you know he theorised that you share a symbiotic relationship with the Sun itself? Well, I suppose you did know – do know. Anyway, what's important is he was sure the health of Equestria was irresistibly linked to the Sun and the Moon.”
Taking a heaving breath in-between, Twilight leapt on. “Beyond that, Star Swirl never mentioned anything specifically regarding failure or weakness of that magic. That was my second dead-end, and I realised that I should be looking for possible historical accounts of issues with the Sun. Obviously there was the incident with Discord's release of a few months ago during which the cycle of day and night was disrupted. I believe that was due to the Elements of Harmony no longer being under the control of yourself and Princess Luna, rather than a failing of your magic in itself.”
“Historical accounts of Equestria are fragmented,” She grumbled. “Virtually nothing factual survives from before the first defeat of Discord and the beginning of the Second Equestrian Renaissance, except Old Mare's Tales and–”
“Like the Mare in the Moon?” Celestia interrupted, her expression unreadable even if the tone was warm enough to assure Twilight she hadn't overstepped the mark.
“I suppose there's always some truth rooted in mythology ...”
The Goddess of the Sun's small smile returned. “Ponies told stories long before they committed them to pages, my faithful student.”
“I'm sorry Princess,” Twilight sighed, her horn igniting in a flash of magic as she began to pull books from the shelving. “I must have missed something, somewhere … I couldn't find any mention of anything like this happening before. I've only double-checked around a tenth of the Royal Archive! If I work through the night I might find something useful, something you can use–”
Celestia's own horn shimmered in reply, freezing the books where they hovered and sending them neatly back into their places. “Twilight!” She began firmly, commanding the small unicorn's total attention. “You have already proven yourself to me and the whole of Equestria countless times. Even in a simple task like reading, you've gone beyond what I thought possible. I had hoped, of course, for a surprise but I think I always knew the answer to this wouldn't be found in the Archive. Besides, I believe the Sun is locked high in the sky. There won't be a night, tonight, to work through.”
Turning away from the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves, the Princess called out over her shoulder. “Come – it's time your friends and the other Elements of Harmony learned of what we know and what we don't.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
“The Princess is currently indisposed,” The gold-clad Pegasus flanking the doorway repeated. Again. “Her Highness will arrive with Miss Sparkle shortly.”
If the Guardspony was cool and aloof, the reply he received did its very best to test his temperament; stricken as it was and pleading, complete with a hoof-against-horn sigh for dramatic effect. “So you repeatedly enthuse! Whilst I would never be so presumptuous as to question the business of Royalty, I simply must return to my boutique at the Princess' earliest convenience! Whom else can carry the heavy burden of spearheading Fancy Pants' summer wardrobe?”
“Um … Rarity?”
“Of course I'm not insinuating that special treatment should be directed my way! Oh my, of course not! It's just I'm a very busy pony—”
“Excuse me, Rarity … I just …”
“— And I simply cannot spare a moment, let alone a day, away from my work and Sweetie Bell. Oh my, Sweetie Bell! It's not that I don't trust her; she's my sister after all, it's just that she often gets these fanciful ideas about helping me—”
“What Fluttershy here is tryin' to say, a might too nicely,” A drawling voice interrupted, “Is that you ought to sit yer' preenin', fussin' flank down before you spin yerself silly worryin' 'bout nuthin at all!”
The Pegasus guarding the doorway cleared his throat, in the closest his duty would allow him to a nod. Rarity gasped, spinning around on her hooves with a look of hurt etched upon her features. “Applejack!”
“You were worrying … A little bit,” Fluttershy sort-of-but-not-really agreed “… Hardly any, I mean.”
Face almost entirely hidden by the weather-worn hat pulled down over her eyes, Applejack chuckled. “You'd surely think a pony as fancy as Rarity would be thrilled, being whisked to Canterlot and such, even if she were terribly busy. The rest of us simple ponyfolk, what with our easy lives buckin' a field or six of apple trees from sun up to sunset … Well, we're just plain-up lovin' this unexpected downtime.”
“Well ...” Rarity grumbled, upturning her chin and doing her best to look put out. “You were snoring rather loudly earlier, dear. I simply don't believe you could have been any more relaxed.”
Applejack shrugged, and tipped the brim of her hat even further downwards. “Like I said, sugarcube; Sun up to sunset. The Princess and Twilight will be right on through just as soon as they're ready to see us. In the meantime, why don't you just sit yourself down and see how long you can bare the notion that the business of Equestria don't revolve 'round you.”
“Discretion is the better part of valour I suppose ...” Rarity conceded, moving the discussion onwards. “Where is Rainbow Dash? I assume her presence was likewise requested and required? Applejack?”
Glancing over her shoulder, the Dressmaker rolled her eyes at the sight of the sleeping mare in the straw hat. “How rude!”
Fluttershy offered a weak smile. “Uh, I think I saw her flying around the castle … At least, well … I think it was Rainbow Dash; it was mostly a blue blur but I'm sure I recognised her mane.”
“Oh, marvellous!” Rarity snapped irritably. “At least she's getting on with something! And Pinkie? Where in Equestria has she gotten off to?”
“Surprise!” The very mare in question yelled, leaping out from behind the same gold-clad pegasus that had been the source of Rarity's earlier repetitive conversation. Letting out a most unladylike yelp Rarity scattered across the room; galloping through a cloud of coloured confetti that slowly drifted downwards, landing on top of the table Fluttershy had sought refuge under.
Coming to her senses at the same time she realised her mane was thoroughly ruined by the unimaginable twin acts of running and confetti, Rarity wheeled around on her hooves. “Pinkamena Pie! What have we discussed regarding unannounced entrances!”
Sticking her tongue out, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling, Pinkie hummed and hmm'd and otherwise strove to ponder. After a few minutes spent recalling, the party pony cracked her forehoof against the stone floor; sending Fluttershy back under the table she was just emerging from.
“They're reserved for Princesses and Monsters!” Pinkie smiled proudly.
“ … Quite,” Rarity sighed. “Well, where in the name of Celestia have you been?”
Pinkie settled on her haunches. “I heard a rumour about a special department of the government. Really secretive, really important and you know how much I love mysteries!”
“Secret department? Sounds dangerous ...” A muffled voice squeaked from underneath the table.
Blowing her drooping, candy-floss mane up and out of her eyes, Pinkie's grin grew even wider. “Nothing to worry about, Fluttershy! Using my super-duper powers of sleuthing and detecting, I discovered it doesn't really exist!”
Rarity frowned. “What doesn't?”
“The Office of Ice Cream and Party Hats. Hey! You don't think that's why the Princess called us here, do you? To solve this mystery?”
Fluttershy and Rarity exchanged mutual glances of total confusion, before the Dressmaker simply nodded. “Whilst I don't doubt the importance of your discovery, dear, I'm sure the Princess wouldn't have felt the need to request our collective presence for something so … Well, unique to your skill set.”
“Just because it doesn't exist, doesn't mean we can't have one!” Pinkie cheered, donning a party hat with means and from places unknown. Now all we need is Ice Cream!”
Peeking her head out from underneath the table, Fluttershy looked on expectantly. Even Rarity, in her best efforts to look detached, couldn't help but subconsciously lick her lips. Ice Cream would be simply wonderful in alleviating the frustration of their long wait, after all.
“Ah could sure use some,” Applejack yawned from across the room.
“Silly Ponies!” Pinkie giggled. “I don't just carry Ice Cream! Duh; how would I stop it from melting?”
Rarity flicked a hoof through her mane. “But of course,” She chuckled. “That would be simply impossible, quite unlike divining the future with tweaks and twirls of your tail, or befriending the grumpiest donkey in all of Equestria. All of those things are quite reasonable!”
“Surely are!” Pinkie squealed, bounding up and down as her afore-mentioned tail suddenly climbed up and stood erect as if made from glass. “Oh! Here comes something!”
Fluttershy withdrew back under the table she had fortified against all comers, while Applejack climbed to all fours and eyed the room around her suspiciously. Rarity, meanwhile, pretended not to take notice whilst at the same time backing away until her flank brushed against a wall and she span around in fright. All of them had long ago learned the foolishness in dismissing the powers of Pinkie to foretell the future.
“Nothing to worry about, girls!” Pinkie reassured. “It's Rainbow Dash!”
Several seconds elapsed, until Rarity broke the silence. “Are you sure, dear?”
Pinkie nodded, hopping on the spot. “Surely sure!”
The seconds became minutes, and cautiously, Rarity ambled forwards. Assuming the brash pegasus wasn't planning on making a grandiose entrance by coming straight through solid stone, she made her way towards the only window in the chamber. Cautiously glancing out, the unicorn could see only blue sky above and Canterlot below.
The words forming on Rarity's lips were abruptly replaced by a strangled cry, as the sky above and Canterlot below began to interchange rapidly, along with the occasional glimpse of rainbow and what might have been the ceiling. Tumbling backwards, it took an instinctual flash of her magic to bring the impromptu conflagration of ponies to a safe halt.
Jumping to her hooves, wings flaring outwards Rainbow Dash shook her mane from her eyes and bowed, as though the entire room had bust into rapturous hoof-stomping.
“That. Was. Awesome!”
~*~*~*~*~*~
The air itself stank, and the trees died. Great palls of sickly-grey smoke coiled lazily upwards, forming hundreds of pyres that together turned the light of the sun a mockery of orange. Soot and ash blew on the winds, as wood was blackened to charcoal and leaves burnt to nothingness. Enormous chunks of twisted, cracked stone lay buried in the ground where they had fallen from a great height; containing the broken shards of ornate, stained windows that more resembled toothy, leering maws.
The sweeping citadel that had once stood in the centre of the forest; once marked with jutting spires, arcing buttresses and numerous sweeping towers was naught but a ragged ring of burnt stone and burning tapestries. With every passing moment the terrific fire within fed on incalculably valuable works of art and science, consuming miracles of ponykind as easily as the air surrounding. Dropping from the sky as grotesque parodies of shooting stars, molten balls of precious metals and stone long since exploded free of the citadel rained down. Eventually the flames grew too hot, the smoke to acrid and thick, and a blanket of choking black blocked out the best effort of the Sun.
Each tree in a forest of thousands had stood for over a century and each tree, in turn, smouldered, burned and died or was simply smashed asunder by flying stone and mortar. Some were uprooted in a single, titanic action – others sheared in half and left mimicking the once great citadel they had surrounded.
Nothing could live here now and see. Some were present but they could neither live, nor see. They were left where they had fallen; muzzles buried into the ash and soot, hoofs still protectively thrown over their manes. Nothing could live here now and see.
But one single creature did still live and see. Sporting a coat of black marred only with a splash of purple and with a single, great horn and a pair of wings it stalked through the ash. It walked the perimeter of the burning stone, and it paused before each of its little ponies where they lay.
Moon Beam.
Sky Light.
Sun Chaser.
Criss-Cross.
Bright Star.
Neutron Blue.
Star Swirl.
… Princess Luna.
The City of Ever Free was lost.
“Little One ...”
Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, Luna composed herself and opened her eyes. The familiar sight of Nightmare Moon stood opposite, green orbs narrowed in concern. “It is more traditional to have your dreams while you sleep.”
The Princess looked away. “Sometimes, I am not even sure I am awake.”
