All Celestia ever wanted was to be on the sun control team, but the North is freezing, sinister schemes are in motion, and her world needs heroes – before it's too late.
For Celestia's entire life, and time immemorial before, ponies have lived in three tribes. The magical Unicorn Kingdom in the far north moves the sun and the moon, the hard-working earth ponies grow food, and the proud pegasi of the Cloud Empire control the weather. They coexist out of necessity in a delicate balance of trade, although they have little trust or friendship for each other.
But now, the North is getting colder. Crops are failing, and the balance is crumbling. In the midst of the world's freezing, a sinister plan unfolds, spelling further disaster. Everything hangs on the precipice of catastrophe.
All Celestia ever really wanted was to be assigned to work on the sun control team, but her world needs heroes – before it's too late.
The question echoed distantly through Celestia’s ears, pulling her out of the deep reverie she’d fallen into watching the setting sun. “Hmm?” Returning to reality, she turned her head toward the other unicorn on the observation deck with her. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked, are we good ponies?” Luna stood by Celestia's side, looking up at her sister with teal eyes glowing in the dying light.
Celestia laughed and gentle waves rippled down her long pink mane, making it flow across her pure white coat. “Well, we’re not little fillies anymore. We can have ice cream for breakfast and sneak cookies whenever we feel like it and nopony can send us to time-out, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I know, it’s a silly question.” Luna smirked and shook her head, her own cornflower mane brushing across her midnight blue body. After a few seconds, her expression slowly drifted back to pensive. “But… seriously.”
“Seriously…” The smile faded from Celestia’s face. “Hmmm.” She scrunched her muzzle and pondered while she looked out again to the west.
Quartz City blazed under an orange sky of fiery sunset embers contrasting vividly with long dark shadows. The observation deck they were on wasn’t large—only a modest platform encircling the steep, conical roof of the small house the two sisters shared—but at three stories, it stuck up like a little island in a sea of elegant marble and limestone, just high enough to offer a view of most of the city’s other buildings and their beautiful, centuries-old classical unicorn stonework facades.
It was a nice place to think, but Celestia found that Luna’s deceptively simple question defied an easy answer. “I’m afraid that, seriously, I’m not sure what to say, other than I hope so.”
“Hope so…” Luna mused with a soft sigh, looking around and studying the rooftops. “I guess that’s all we can do, isn’t it?”
“Why?” Celestia asked. “Is something on your mind?”
“I’m not sure.” Luna shrugged. “Maybe I’m just realizing lately that I’ve never thought very much about it.”
“Well, does your instructor think that you’re a good unicorn?” Celestia asked. “I suppose that’s the most significant judgment in the life of a Thaumosciences apprentice. I know what it’s like. I was there myself not long ago.”
“That’s not really what I mean.” Luna shook her head. “What I mean is, the training in Thaumosciences is all about the how of magic, isn’t it? But not much of the why.”
Celestia rested her chin on the railing of the deck and stared off at the cityscape. “Yes, that’s true. ‘Why’ isn’t really our place to question. We’re mere thaumites for now. Not exactly cardinal mages.”
Luna moved closer and nestled up gently against her sister’s side, then put one foreleg on the deck’s railing and lowered her head until it was next to Celestia’s. The two of them stood quietly together for a little while, looking out at the city from the same perspective.
“Sometimes it just feels like there’s something missing.” Luna’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.
Celestia raised one eyebrow and turned her head just slightly to give Luna a sidelong glance. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No.” Luna just barely shook her head. “With this cutie mark, the instructors don’t let me have many first thoughts of my own, let alone second ones.” She glanced back at the silver crescent on her flank.
“Ah. I know what you mean.” Celestia nodded. “But you’ll graduate from your apprenticeship and be on the primary moon control team before you know it. There’s a little more freedom after that. Things will get more exciting.”
“I’m not sure I want moving the moon to be ‘exciting’, exactly,” Luna said.
Celestia considered this. “No, maybe not,” she agreed. “I think ‘satisfying’ is more the word. Fulfilling. Doing what you’re meant to do. You know what I mean.”
“I’d like that,” Luna said.
Celestia sighed longingly. “So would I.”
Luna moved in a little closer and nuzzled her sister’s cheek. “How long do you think it will be until they put you back on the sun control team?”
“Soon, I hope.” For a moment, Celestia studied how light refracted in rainbow sprays through distant crystal pylons jutting up at regular intervals from the tops of the city’s dark granite walls. The weather control perimeter they formed was far from perfect, but it spared the city from the worst of the bitter Northern cold outside. “I’m almost done with my field research assignment, so maybe after that’s finished up, but it all depends. It’s another one of those situations in which hoping is about all I can do.”
“Well, I hope so, too.”
“Thank you.” Celestia raised one foreleg and wrapped it around Luna’s withers, holding her in a gentle hug while they watched the sun sink behind the walls of the great unicorn city.
☙ ☀ ❧
The Thaumosciences Authority building had a mostly plain façade with none of the scrolls, florets, or other usual decorative elements of unicorn stonework. The interior layout of the building was similarly plain, an emotionless logical grid of very little architectural inventiveness. Function prevailed over eloquence of form, designed as if boring equated to navigational efficiency. Maybe for the most part that was even true, notwithstanding the fact that when she’d first started working here Celestia had sometimes found it possible to get lost simply by virtue of the sheer size. The sprawling structure covered most of a city block, housing a huge complex of facilities: laboratories, workrooms, lecture halls, archives, offices, and more.
At ten in the morning Celestia was in one of those offices, a spacious one reserved for a unicorn of rank. To her left, the wall was lined with bookshelves holding sets of encyclopedic volumes, one after another. All of them looked identical, as if it was the same tome soullessly cloned a hundred times. To her right, more shelves held scientific instruments, both thaumo-enhanced and mundane, in a haphazard assortment.
The centerpiece of the room was an imposing steel desk which Celestia stood in front of while she tried to steady the nervous tension that twitched through her chest and legs. Behind it, a unicorn mare about Celestia’s height with a pastel fuchsia coat quietly leafed through a sheaf of papers. Her vibrant purple eyes were intently focused on the page in front of her while a silver quill danced in flowing motion as she finished one last notation. It made a faint scratching noise that sent a creeping chill up Celestia's back while she suppressed a shiver. She was cold. That was the most defining feature of all. It always felt cold in this office.
“So, Thaumite Celestia, there are a few things I wanted to discuss about this report.” The other unicorn finally put down her quill and looked up. Her expressionless yet severe face was framed by a pin-straight mane, dark violet and striped with crimson.
“Yes, Mage Star Fire?” Celestia asked.
“The quality of the data itself isn’t in question, but some of this is not what I expected.”
“I didn’t expect it myself,” Celestia said. “The changing of climate patterns and dropping earth pony productivity turned out to be even more complicated than I’d imagined. It led me in some strange directions.”
“It certainly did,” Star Fire commented. “You chose to include genealogy work as part of this. I’m curious about that.”
“I started getting interested when I asked about family histories.” Celestia couldn’t stop from nervously fidgeting one hoof in a tiny rhythmic motion while she explained. “There’s virtually no recent reproductive crossover between unicorns and earth ponies, and pegasi have obviously been largely out of the question even longer, for many generations. That’s well known already, but what I found goes further: even within races, ancestries are becoming more fragmented into less genetically diverse segments. I started to think it might be having some effects relevant to what we’re seeing.”
“You have no specific conclusions about this hypothesis in your report, however.”
“No, Mage.” Celestia shook her head. “More of an aside, really. It could be a basis for some further studies later, however.”
“Hmm.” Star Fire frowned slightly as she flipped through the report, stopping at a page near the back.
“And this was interesting.” She pointed her hoof at a particular passage. “You’re drawing a lot of attention to the correlation of an imbalance in power between unicorns and earth ponies to dropping farm productivity, and suggesting that the drop is being caused by a… ‘loss of magical permeability’?”
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “I suspect that the lack of positively perceived equitable exchange between ponies is somehow lowering the ambient magic in the wider environment, and this drop is causing earth ponies to be less able to use their own magic effectively. There’s simply not enough for them to draw on.”
“Can you prove this?” Star Fire asked. “These data are… interesting, I’ll give you that. But what’s the hard link? I’m not seeing a fully supported case for concluding a causal connection.”
“I’m sorry, Mage.” Celestia lowered her head slightly. “I ran out of time in the project before I was able to prove anything definitive about it. I can’t say why exactly this works the way it does, only that…” She cleared her throat.
“Only what?”
“Only that I feel strongly that this will be substantiated in the future, pending further investigation.” Celestia half-closed one eye and cringed a little bit, intensely self-conscious that ‘I just think I’m right’ was hardly the scientifically justifiable answer she was tasked with delivering.
“Well, be that as it may, I’m afraid that I can’t support these recommendations when there’s that kind of deficiency in explaining the underlying causes.” Star Fire gave the report in front of her a nonplussed look.
A moment of uncomfortable, heavy silence filled the cold air.
“And really, about those recommendations.” She raised one brow and looked at Celestia. “Changing laws to remove disincentives for interbreeding between earth ponies and unicorns? Deliberately mixing gene pools? You know these kinds of things fly in the face of policies that exist for a reason, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Celestia said. “These were really all I could think of. I didn’t intend them to be recommendations, exactly, just… hypothetical possibilities?”
Star Fire made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Well, whatever they are.” She shrugged and flipped the report closed, tossing it off to one side on her desk. “I suppose I have to grant that at least it was a good try. Novel ideas, but what you’re setting forth boils down to guessing more than hard facts. That’s not quite what we’re after, is it?”
Celestia didn't know what else to say. Feeling embarrassed and dismissed, she looked around the room, trying to avoid meeting Star Fire’s eye.
“Anyway.” Star Fire leaned back in her chair. “I assume you haven’t become unduly familiar with the earth ponies you’ve been working with, have you?” she asked. “A scientist shouldn’t get too attached to the lab rats.”
Lab rats? Celestia recoiled inside at the comparison, but she held her composure.
“…No, I wouldn’t say I have,” she responded in a measured voice.
“Good.” Star Fire nodded once, just slightly. “Because you’re going to continue working with them, even more closely than before.”
Celestia said nothing. Her ears almost began to fall, just the faintest shadow of motion, but she caught herself and held them still, careful not to change her neutral expression.
“No objections to that, are there, Thaumite?” Star Fire probed, peering at her.
“No, Mage,” Celestia replied. “It’s just, to be honest, I was hoping to go back to the sun control team after this. That is my more specific field of expertise, after all.”
“Yes, yes, I know how it is.” Star Fire waved a hoof. “Field work out in the sticks with the mud ponies isn’t very glamorous.” She leaned forward and stared Celestia in the eye. “But it is important.”
“Yes, Mage.” Celestia nodded.
“In fact–” Star Fire glanced past Celestia. “Shut the door, please.”
Celestia focused on her horn and it glowed with faint rose-colored light while she reached out behind herself with telekinetic magic. She found the door by the feedback of its tactile sensation in her magical field, and pushed it until it latched shut with a soft click. The office was suddenly even more eerily quiet, on top of being cold.
“The reasons that it’s particularly important right now are very sensitive,” Star Fire said, “and you will be working on one of the most sensitive projects relating to them.”
Star Fire stared, watching for a response. Celestia just waited and listened.
“Now, I could send you back to the solar thaumocontroller, but honestly, the Kingdom has enough solarites,” she continued after a moment. “What we need are scientists: thaumites out in the field, working on real problems. And we need more of them, good ones like you. Trustworthy ones. I believe my trust in you is well placed, yes?”
“Yes, Mage,” Celestia said, offering what she knew was the only right answer.
“It had better be.” Star Fire nodded. “Because the things I’m going to tell you are need-to-know only. That means exactly what it sounds like: you will not repeat them to any pony, or donkey, zebra, griffon, dragon… any form of life whatsoever, who does not have a clearance and a legitimate need to know about them. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mage,” Celestia said again.
“Good. Now, as you know, the Unicorn Kingdom depends on collecting food as rent from the earth pony serfs tenant on the kingdom’s land. We pay the Cloud Empire with some of it, and in exchange, the pegasi control the weather favorably for us over the farmland, which in turn makes it possible for our earth ponies to grow more food. And the cycle repeats. Basic economic triangle 101, yes?”
Celestia nodded.
“But of course, that system only works when there’s a surplus of crops to trade,” Star Fire said.
“And with productive output from the farms falling, the surplus is shrinking, I imagine,” Celestia ventured.
“Not just shrinking.” Star Fire shook her head. “The surplus is gone.”
“Gone?” Celestia’s ears fell, and this time she didn’t bother trying to hide it.
“Yes, gone.” Star Fire sounded annoyed. “We’re at a critical juncture. Estimates are, between the climate crisis getting worse, the overhead of what the earth ponies have to keep just to feed themselves, and what the pegasi take as their toll, there’ll be a deficit instead of a surplus within a year. Do you know what happens then?”
“Bad things?” Celestia winced.
“Very bad things,” Star Fire said in a grave tone. “The upshot is, to some extent, we have a choice of bad things. We can overtax the earth ponies to make up the shortfall. Then some of them starve and some of them undoubtedly revolt, and the military puts them down. And we still don’t have enough food. Or we short the pegasi, and they retaliate, which means more crops get ruined in the bad weather they dump on us, which means even less food, and things spiral out of control from there.”
“Will I be working to find solutions to these bad things, then?” Celestia asked.
“In a way.” Star Fire wore an icy expression that didn’t comfort Celestia at all. “I’m hoping that you will be of great help in making another option viable.”
“What other option?” Celestia asked.
“We could make up some of the difference if unicorns could reproduce earth pony magic,” Star Fire said.
“Isn’t earth pony magic best left to the earth ponies?” Celestia asked. “As my report found, it’s a decline in magical capacity that’s lowering their ability to produce. Wouldn’t helping them regain it be the logical thing to do?”
“Maybe, assuming we wanted earth ponies to regain it,” Star Fire said.
“Because that’s the real secret here: the situation only looks like a crisis,” Star Fire said. “But a crisis is always just a matter of perspective, isn’t it? In fact, there are some unicorns who see this as an opportunity, if we can seize it by acting quickly. I’ve been directed to do that seizing, if at all possible. And I believe it is possible.”
“But why would unicorns want to artificially recreate earth pony magic?” Celestia asked. “It seems inefficient, even in a best case scenario. We’d still achieve better increases in production by just helping earth ponies better their conditions.”
“Still on about the earth ponies? You’re thinking too small, Thaumite.” Star Fire laughed, a harsh, unkind sound. “It might be harder at first, but consider the long term. The real value of it kicks in once we don’t need to have any of those worthless mud ponies around at all anymore.”
“How would we ‘not have them around anymore’?” A shiver ran down Celestia’s spine.
“Well, that’s not really my department to implement, but the favored idea right now is reproductive thaumosuppression,” Star Fire answered. “It’s easy, and we can make it subtle. With well-deployed birth control stopping any new earth pony foals from being conceived, all we’d have to do is just let them die off naturally of old age. We could be almost completely rid of them in less than two generations. Maybe longer to weed out the stragglers and the latent earth pony phenotype carriers popping up here and there in the unicorn gene pool, but those are just little details to clean up later.”
“It would upset the balance of everything,” Celestia noted, somehow managing to make her voice sound calm, even while a cold, heavy, sinking feeling worked down through her stomach.
“On the contrary, it would be doing us a great service,” Star Fire said. “If we could recreate earth pony magic and allow unicorns to take over farming, then why do we need that old balance? The Unicorn Kingdom could directly control agriculture, as well as the sun and the moon. What does that leave the Cloud Empire with? The weather? Even for that, we can already partly recreate their pegasus magic, as the local weather control perimeter proves here in Quartz City. The only reason we deal with them at all is because it’s more cost-effective on larger scales.”
“And because a trade relationship avoids a war,” Celestia added carefully.
“Perhaps.” Star Fire shrugged. “Maybe not forever.”
“I would like to avoid wars,” Celestia said quietly.
“Wouldn’t we all?” Star Fire asked pointedly. “And this could be a big first step to accomplishing that. If there were only unicorns, who would we have left to fight?”
Celestia felt a wave of cold nausea. The rhetorical question offered a vision with a chilling, brutal kind of logic, callous and abhorrent in a way that made her want to cry out in shocked, angry protest.
All she could do was stand there in silence.
“And of course, there would be great rewards for those who help deliver earth pony magic to us,” Star Fire said, smiling at Celestia. “For example, the mage leading the effort would undoubtedly be promoted to cardinal mage. That new cardinal would have free rein to promote new mages in turn to fill her old position. Maybe one of those new mages would be selected by the new cardinal as her right-hoof assistant, and they’d go on to keep doing great things as leaders in advancing thaumoscience. It would launch a promising young career… maybe one like yours… to stellar heights. And your sister—Luna, right?—she’s about to be on her way up as well, isn’t she?”
Celestia just nodded. Her throat felt tight.
“But failure…” Star Fire’s smile faded and she shook her head slowly. “The Unicorn Kingdom can’t afford failure. It would mean food shortages. War. Disaster. Those who fail would have to stand accountable for letting us all down. And that would be a tragedy, because a fall that hard could bring a pony’s career to ruin she’d never recover from. Even worse, ponies she loves could fall with her. Family. Sisters. Guilt by association is an ugly thing, Celestia. It can make entire bloodlines suspect, never trusted again.” She focused on Celestia with a hard stare. “Do you understand me, Thaumite? Are you seeing what’s at stake here?”
“Yes, Mage.” Celestia swallowed. Her mouth was dry and cottony. She wasn’t able to bring her voice above a whisper. “I see.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia spent the afternoon sitting in the Thaumosciences Authority library for a few hours of reluctant, half-hearted effort to start digging into the current state of research on earth pony magic. She wasn’t finding it very productive; there was a distracting, anxious twist in her gut and she couldn’t stop glancing at the clock on the wall. The seconds crawled by at a glacial pace, taunting her. Once, the second hand even moved backwards for a tick. The sight gave her an unpleasant shock, a feeling that she was being pranked by reality itself, until she was calmed by a moment of thought bringing her to the realization that it was just the clock’s thaumomechanical synchronizer adjusting itself to the correct time.
As soon as it was finally time, she couldn’t leave the building fast enough. A half-dozen books and a stack of papers and reports were left abandoned for the night on her small desk while she stepped out through the big stone archway of the front doors and into the streets of Quartz City. It wasn’t very late, but the sun was already setting. With winter starting, days were rapidly getting short in the far northern latitude.
The coming night looked ugly while she walked home. Crystalline street lamps lit up the city from atop tall steel poles curved like elegant swan-necks, glowing in sodium-orange for low optical pollution that was easy for the lunar thaumocontroller and the observatories tracking the stars to filter out. Celestia understood why this kind of light was used, of course, but she always thought it was an unfortunate color. It made everything seem dingy and dirty, a city of old faded paper in monochrome yellow.
It was nothing like the glorious full spectrum of the sun during the bright day.
The sun… She sighed wistfully. She missed the sun so badly. She missed working in the thaumocontroller to guide it, lifting it up to light the morning, soaking in the feel of its powerful inertia and raw, searing intensity. Times had been good for her when she was a part of that. For months now, it was like a piece of herself had been taken away. The hole it left somewhere deep in her chest made her feel hollow.
Why couldn’t they just put her back on the sun control team? She bitterly rolled the question around over and over again in her mind. Why… why this awful project? How could they? How could anypony even be considering it?
Her hooves dragged miserably while she walked.
This was not what she signed up for with a career in Thaumosciences. At least, she hadn’t thought so, especially not on the Solarite specialist track.
She kept going, drifting aimlessly around one block after another, trying to shake those lamenting thoughts. They clung to her like thick mud, a kind that tried to suck in her hooves with every step and not let go.
Eventually, she arrived home. By then, the sun was long gone and the sky was completely black. Wandering around thinking hadn’t helped much. She was still agitated and upset while she let herself into the small house.
“How did things go today?” Luna asked once Celestia was inside.
Celestia just shook her head tersely while she made her way through the living room and flopped down on the couch.
Luna walked over and sat next to her. “Not back to sun control?”
“No. Worse than that.” Celestia’s voice hitched and her chest was shaking. “A lot worse.”
Luna, looking concerned, scooted close and wrapped her forelegs around her sister. Celestia settled into the hug. Whatever strength she’d been scraping together to maintain her composure crumbled away. She was just too tired to even try to hold on; her emotions cracked open and she started sobbing into Luna’s chest.
“Tia? What happened?” Luna asked softly, stroking her mane.
Celestia looked up, her rose-colored eyes sparkling with tears.
“What’s the matter?” Luna held her crying sister. “What do you mean we’re not good ponies?”
“I mean the Unicorn Kingdom,” Celestia said. “There’s… a plan to do something. It’s bad.”
“Bad how?”
“I can’t tell you.” Celestia shook her head. “The new project they put me on is need-to-know only. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“Well, the way you’re taking it is already telling me something,” Luna pointed out. “It’s obviously pretty upsetting.”
“It’s terrible!” Celestia said. “And it’s a big deal. Very big, I think. Somepony really wants it done, and they’re willing to use a lot of pressure to get it. They—the mage I work under, Star Fire—she threatened me. She threatened you. I don’t even know how she knew about you, but she said my career would be over and yours with me if I didn't help make this happen.”
Luna’s eyes widened in surprise. “If you don’t make what happen?”
“I already told you, it’s—”
“‘Need-to-know’, yes,” Luna repeated. “But when it starts involving threats against me, don’t I have some need to know?” She gave Celestia a small, clever smile.
Celestia cracked just a hint of a smile herself. “Nice try, but somehow I don’t think that’s the intention.”
“Maybe not.” Luna shrugged. “But neither the spirit nor the letter of the law is strong enough to stop me from trying to help my sister when I know she hurts. Would you do any less for me?”
“No, of course not.” Celestia shook her head. “I suppose I would be doing exactly the same thing.”
She held Luna with her forelegs and leaned her head against her sister, while Luna rubbed Celestia’s back and withers.
“Why couldn’t she just send me back to the sun control team?” Celestia lamented.
“I don’t know. Maybe something good will come from you being on this project instead,” Luna ventured.
“Good? This project shouldn’t even be happening!” Celestia complained. “It’s horrible. Monstrous.”
“Well, that all sounds very serious,” Luna said with concern. “I don’t want my sister to have to become a monster.”
“I don’t want to have to be one, either.”
“So how bad is it?” Luna asked.
Celestia just shook her head and said nothing.
“Please?” Luna entreated.
Celestia opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. Luna waited patiently on the couch. Celestia struggled with feelings and thoughts that seemed like they were trying to tear her in half, clenching her jaw until it started to ache.
“It would mean the end of an entire race,” she finally said, relenting.
“Oh.” Luna sat up straight. “That, umm… that does sound bad.”
“I don’t know what to do, Luna.”
“I don’t either,” Luna said. “Maybe you could start by telling me the rest. I’m sorry, because I know I shouldn’t be pushing, and honestly I’m starting to feel a little bit afraid myself, but if this is what it sounds like… I mean, we can’t… genocide is beyond the pale, Celestia, state secret or not.”
“I know, I know!” Celestia wailed, burying her face in her hooves. “And I’ve already said too much… this is more than I should have told you.”
“I don’t think you would have if part of you didn’t want to say it all,” Luna said softly.
“Of course I wouldn’t!” Celestia snapped angrily. Instantly regretting it, she softened her voice. “And of course I want to.” She looked up and stared at Luna with pleading in her eyes. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other, have we? And we’ve never told each other’s secrets to anypony else.”
“No.” Luna shook her head, then grinned. “Not even the time you raided the cookie jar but I wouldn’t tattle on you, so we both got punished.”
“Ha. I gave you half the cookies.” Celestia smiled faintly at the memory. “We were both in it together then.”
“It seems like we’re in it together now, whether we want to be or not,” Luna said. “The only difference is that this time I don’t even know what I’m in or what I stand to be punished for.”
“Well, it’s a lot worse than a cookie,” Celestia said.
Luna nodded. “So I’m gathering.”
“It’s… the earth ponies,” Celestia said hesitantly. “The Unicorn Kingdom’s going to get rid of earth ponies. All of them.”
“What?!” Luna’s jaw dropped. “That… they can’t! How could anypony even consider something so horrible?”
“You and I may see that. But I don’t think the kinds of ponies who want this to happen really care.”
“Well, if they won’t have a heart, do they at least care about the practical problems? What about those? What about the farmers? Who’s supposed to grow food?”
“Unicorns.”
“Unicorns can’t—”
“The project is to discover how to replicate earth pony magic,” Celestia said. “Unicorns can once that’s figured that out. That’s the key. That’s why somepony wants it badly enough to threaten us both.”
“But still, even with the magic replicated, without earth ponies there wouldn’t be a labor force to use it. There’s not enough unicorns to just have that many out there continually using magic for farming.”
“I don’t think there would need to be.” Celestia shook her head. “They would just set up thaumoarrays to automate applying earth pony magic. It would probably only take a couple of decent-sized crystal pylons to keep a big farm going, and not that many unicorn field workers to tend and harvest crops. I don’t think those workers would even need any special magical training, just basic telekinesis. It might not be as good as earth ponies, at first, but it could be enough. Then after a while, once all the problems are worked out, nopony would really care about the difference… if there even is any difference anymore.”
“No difference other than what an unthinkable line it would be crossing,” Luna said.
“Again, I don’t think they care,” Celestia said. “They want control. Cut out the earth ponies, and the Unicorn Kingdom has direct control over food production. It would mean even more power to set exchange terms with the Cloud Empire.”
“Would… would the Kingdom really kill them? All the earth ponies?” Luna’s voice quivered. “Do you think they’d really do something like that?”
“No, from what I was told it wouldn’t be necessary to kill them.” Celestia shook her head. “Only to sterilize them. They’d just die off naturally with no new earth pony foals to replace them. Planned extinction.”
“That’s… not really any different. It’s still monstrous.”
“Yes, and I don’t think I can be a part of it,” Celestia said. “But I also don’t know what else to do.”
“Resign from the Thaumosciences Authority?” Luna suggested. “Blow the whistle? Somepony who can do something has to be willing to listen.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know if anypony would, and I don’t think that would be the end of it, for me or you. I mean, how would it look if I quit right after I learned about this? My supervising mage would come after me, I know it. I could end up in prison and de-horned. She’d find some reason to sabotage you to get back at me and you’d end up without a career, or worse, in prison alongside me. I don’t know what might happen to other ponies who try to stop this, and even if I do manage to slow things down, whoever’s trying to make this happen would just get other mages and other thaumites to keep working on it. And worst of all, none of that would solve the problem that farm production is still collapsing, which is what made this such an urgent project in the first place.”
“Wait, what? Collapsing how badly?” Luna asked.
“I was told that time is a problem because after this year, we won’t have a trade surplus of crops anymore. We’ll be at a deficit. The Unicorn Kingdom won’t be able to pay off the pegasi.”
“Ugh.” Luna facehoofed. “You’re just full of good news tonight, aren’t you?”
“Good news I shouldn’t even be telling you,” Celestia pointed out.
“There must be some way out of this,” Luna said.
Celestia let out a miserable sigh. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do, other than go to work tomorrow and pretend everything’s okay. If I do anything else, I’m scared it’ll just get us both destroyed.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Dawn was just a faint promise borne on a sliver of dim rosy light when Celestia left her house for the transit station. At this early hour she was bleary-eyed and not quite moving at full speed in mind or body. Still, she had no complaints; it had been a long, miserable week of reading in the library to get up to speed on where to start with her assigned task. Having to wear a careful mask of indifference and pretend not to be bothered even though the cruelty of the project made her want to scream out against it wore on her. At this point, getting out into the field, even in winter, felt like a vacation by comparison.
The weather control perimeter operated on reduced power at night, making less effort to keep in warmth. Tendrils of hoarfrost bloomed on everything in the frigid pre-dawn air, the white ice turning a jarring sickly yellow under the familiar sodium lights towering over the dark city streets. Celestia wore a heavy snow-white cloak long enough to mostly cover her legs. The inside of it was lined with expensive phoenix feathers that continually radiated gentle heat, but even that still couldn’t completely keep out the bone-chilling northern cold.
Underneath the frost, the city was, as always, full of messages vying for attention. Thin slabs of transparent crystal fixed at intervals to building walls displayed a barrage of slowly shifting text, paid advertising for nearby businesses mixed with public service reminders from the state about the civic responsibilities expected of all unicorns in the Kingdom: Homosexual urges are a sickness, proclaimed one of them that caught her eye for a brief moment. Report any unnatural attractions to a healthcare provider. You can be cured! Others reminded citizens to report suspicious pegasi sightings to the city guard, or declared the importance of mares remembering their duty to choose mates that would produce highly magical foals.
Long ago, even as a filly, she had realized that none of these PSAs were ever so nuanced or complex that they couldn’t be condensed into a four-word summary. Sometimes while she walked the streets she made an idle game out of coming up with how they could have been optimized for brevity:
Beware the barbarian pegasus.
Only have approved sex.
Weed out bad genes.
She didn’t play this morning, though. She’d seen this propaganda her entire life, and right now her tired mind filtered it out as just so much dull blasé background clutter. All she could think about was how nice it would be to get away from this and have a change of scenery.
The transit station, just an open-air concrete platform under a flat roof supported by stone pillars, was lit with harsh white lamps trying to make it an island of permanent faux-day in the surrounding sea of night. They mostly succeeded, at the price of the artificial light being irritating in a subtle way that made Celestia’s eyes ache and her skin crawl. She wondered if the pair of city guards posted there also felt it. It would explain the scowls they wore. As Celestia passed, one of them, a mare with a pale blue coat and sharp sapphire eyes, glared from under her armor with a hard look that made Celestia uncomfortable. When she shrank back timidly and veered away, the guard snorted with contempt and resumed staring off at nothing.
Celestia walked up to one of the teleportation machines and stepped onto its circular pad. She dropped three one-bit coins into a slot, the price of a long-distance teleport out of the city. There was a panel with numeric buttons, big enough to be easily pressed with hooves, but she never used that. It was mostly there for ponies of lesser (or no) magical ability, and that certainly wasn’t her. Instead, her horn glowed with dim rose colored light while she reached out with her magic and interacted directly with the machine’s thaumointerface. In her mind, it mechanically presented an input field, a thought-impression that came across as a mix of visual and tactile sensoria, all passing through her horn. She entered the numbers for the transit destination via mental commands, feeling the machine lock them in and accept them as valid after a brief check. All it waited for was the last confirmation.
As she pushed the final confirmation, she closed her eyes, following the instructions that everypony who used these machines knew by heart. There was a sudden flash of light, coming through her eyelids in bright orange-red. Her eyes needed to be closed because, unfortunately, the microburst of light produced by the artificial teleport had a lot of ultraviolet in it. Once, when she was a filly, she’d kept her eyes open, just to see what would happen during the quantum superpositional shift. Her reward was a painful dazzling flash that left her stunned and dizzy, and over the next few hours, her eyes became itchy and stinging from what was, essentially, a mild artificial sunburn on her corneas. Fortunately, it soon went away with no permanent damage, but once was enough to keep her from trying that again.
When it was over and she opened her eyes a second later, she was in a different transit building, a small one with only a single teleporter. Unlike the one in the city, it was enclosed in a small building. She exited through the single door to find herself in an earth pony village. It was even colder out here than it had been in the city, but also more beautiful. There were no high stone walls, no artificial lights—just nature and a scattering of almost rustic wooden structures. The moon was still hanging in the pre-dawn sky, its delicate silvery-white light glittering off of frost unspoiled by sodium-yellow lamps.
Not surprisingly for this hour, nopony else was around. Celestia walked down the main street of the village—the only real street, actually, and just a hoof-worn dirt road at that—and followed it for about a mile. While she travelled, the moon was sinking at an almost visible pace. Seeing it made her think about the lunarites in the city. Knowing that her sister would soon be one of them made her smile softly with pride for a moment. Her smile soon faded, though, submerging under troubled thoughts. She only hoped Luna’s fortunes in Thaumosciences would be better than her own.
She kept walking, on and on through the pre-morning frigid cold, with the frost making the earth feel hard as solid stone beneath her hooves.
Her destination was a small farmhouse set amid sprawling wheat fields, and her arrival was well timed: the moon was finished setting and the sun was peeking into the sky to light the dawn just as she got there.
Her hooves trod swiftly down a narrow dirt path forking off the road toward the house. When she got close, the front door opened and an earth pony with a honey-colored mane and a pale tan coat almost exactly the same shade as the surrounding crops came out to meet her. She waved a forehoof. “Hello! Nice to see you again, Miss Celestia.”
She had a young-looking, pretty face, dotted with a spray of freckles, although the semblance of youth was belied by the scars and scabs pock-marking her legs with their knotty muscles, the story of long seasons of hard farmwork written on her body.
The familiar sight made Celestia smile. “I’m glad to be back, Winter Wheat,” she replied, walking closer.
“So they gave you more time to keep working on your climate research, then?” Winter Wheat asked curiously.
Climate research. Ha. Right.
“…Something like that,” Celestia muttered. Suddenly she couldn’t bring herself to meet Winter Wheat’s hazel eyes as she answered, feeling a biting sense of shame.
“I forgot to ask when you told me you were coming out here. Do you need anything special from me?” Winter Wheat asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Celestia shook her head. “Just the usual readings while you’re doing whatever farm work you have for the day, just like before. I’ll be taking some tissue samples from the wheat this time, too. Is that alright?”
“No problem.” Winter Wheat nodded. “I’m about to get started, if you’re ready.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Winter Wheat headed for her fields, walking through the thin dusting of snow on the hard-frozen ground. Celestia followed her. Although the rising sun was steadily brightening the morning, winter was still coming on in force; the temperature kept dropping and the day was shaping up to be viciously chilly. The air stung her nose and throat with every breath she took in, and fogged in long-lingering clouds of hanging mist when she exhaled. Everything was starkly quiet under a gray veil of clouds that drifted in and covered the sky. Not even the birds wanted to be out in this cold.
The work wasn’t very exciting, either, mostly just the grinding routine of Winter Wheat pacing up and down the rows of her fields. She was taking some measurements here and there with an old worn wooden ruler, while checking the crops for damage and weeding out any signs of disease. “Wouldn’t do to let even a single stalk be harvested with ergot in the grains,” she said.
Celestia walked alongside her, using her horn to levitate a carefully tuned thaumosensor and a sheet of paper with a grid printed on it, frequently writing down numbers from the sensor’s readout to fill in the grid. She also had a pair of scissors that she used occasionally to take small leaf clippings, storing them in a specimen box divided into individually numbered slots. This kind of data aggregation was the fairly mindless busywork an apprentice might do. She would have gladly delegated some of it out to one, too, but she was still a very junior thaumite herself and didn’t have the luxury of an understudy to hoof things off to yet.
In her boredom, her thoughts quickly began wandering. She spent a lot of time just watching Winter Wheat. The earth pony seemed to genuinely love what she was doing. Despite wearing nothing but an old thin cloak of coarse cloth, she didn’t seem bothered by the harsh cold under the dim overcast winter sky, humming a cheerful tune while she examined her plants.
It made Celestia wonder. Most unicorns she knew would have looked down with contempt on the simplicity of farming, but after being around it first-hoof for a while during her research, there was a feeling growing within her that, truthfully, this didn’t seem like such a bad life.
If this was what a pony wanted, what was really so wrong with it?
And more than that, when she was honest with herself, she discovered an undercurrent of jealousy rising up inside her. It was a surprise at first, but after she thought about it, she couldn’t deny that it made sense:
She could see that Winter Wheat was truly happy.
In a clear moment of reflection, like looking in a mirror for the first time, it dawned on Celestia that she didn’t remember that feeling. Sometimes it was hard to be sure if it was something she had ever really felt. So many days seemed like they were filled with nothing but an empty restless longing, a sense that something was missing…
Realization slapped her in the face, more sobering than the icy wind: the truth was that most of the time, especially lately, all she felt was hollow.
Suddenly, she was overcome with a despairing desire for purpose to fill that void. She wanted so badly to know: what was it like? How did it feel for a pony to plow the dirt with her own hooves, to plant the seeds, to watch the new sprouts push their way up out of the ground and to nurture them while they gathered the sunlight and grew day by day? How amazing would it be to watch something blossom and bear fruit and know that it was her own love and dedication and hard work that made it happen?
What was it like to feel the magic—the miracle—of that kind of fulfillment, that kind of real meaning?
And what would happen if somepony tried to fake it? Could it ever be the same if it was just some cold piece of crystal emanating synthetic magic into the soil? Maybe unicorns could farm, but would they ever care about it as much as earth ponies?
Probably not.
And could the crops ever be as good? As plentiful or as nutritious or as perfect as earth ponies loved them enough to make them?
Definitely not.
She knew, all the way from somewhere deep down inside, that it could never be the same because it would never be an expression of true fulfillment in the same kind of way.
Not that unicorns couldn’t feel that kind of passion, of course. Quite the contrary; in their hearts, all ponies longed to live for their purpose. That was the whole reason cutie marks existed, Celestia mused, looking back briefly at the sun symbol on herself. Unicorns were just as bound by this desire as anypony – maybe even more, for the fire of magic blazed in their horns.
There was proof of it right here, in fact. The great northeastern aqueduct was visible from the farm, looming a mile or two off in the distance, an endless row of huge stone arches supporting a canal that had brought clear, clean mountain stream water to Quartz City for three hundred years. The unicorns who built a thing so great must have felt a burning drive inside filling them with pride in their work. How else could something so enormous be accomplished?
And wasn’t she a descendant of those same unicorns? Those great engineers, architects, and mages, who had a vision and made it come true?
So where had that gone? Why couldn’t she—
The dim echo of a bell ringing out the noon hour from somewhere in the nearby earth pony village interrupted her thoughts.
Winter Wheat stopped in her tracks when the sound broke the day’s frosty silence. “Whew! Break time! Do you want to come in for some lunch, Miss Celestia?” she asked, looking toward her little farmhouse.
“Yes, that’d be nice.” Celestia looked forward to the chance to get out of the cold for a while. “Thank you.”
The house was a sturdy wooden frame structure, all thick square beams and rough boards. It had a different smell than one of the city’s stone buildings; faintly musty, partly from straw used as insulation, but mostly clean and pleasant with a subtle undertone of pine resin and the perfume of herbs tied up in bunches with string and hanging from the kitchen ceiling. It was a little chilly inside, with the brick fireplace in the middle of the house having burned down to a few smoldering coals. Winter Wheat threw on some sticks of dry firewood and stoked them up by blowing on the hot embers until the wood caught flames. While the rekindled fire grew, a pleasant warmth spread through the house, and Celestia took off her cloak.
Lunch was thick slices of fresh bread with butter and honey, along with some carrots. The carrots were a little dry and leathery on the outside from being old and out of season, but still tasty and crunchy in the middle. Winter Wheat also brewed hot coffee, which Celestia appreciated for the warmth it spread through her from the inside out. She also felt a little bit embarrassed by the generosity of it. Coffee, impossible to grow in the north, was an expensive tropical import from sporadic zebra trade caravans and couldn’t have been easy for a small farmer like Winter Wheat to afford.
“What do you do with all these… number things, anyway?” Winter Wheat glanced over the pages of data that Celestia had left off to one side of the table while they were eating.
“Oh, I mostly just write reports about them.” She sighed. “And they’re mostly ignored, I think.”
“I wouldn’t ignore them,” Winter said softly. “I’d read them. I mean, if I knew how to read. I bet they’re interesting. You seem pretty smart, even more than most unicorns.”
“Being a unicorn has nothing to do with being smart, necessarily,” Celestia said. After a moment, something about what Winter said hit her. She looked around the house. She’d been in here before, but now that she was thinking about it, she realized something she’d never noticed: there were no books, no letters, no papers—no text visible at all. There was a calendar on one wall, but it didn’t have any writing on it, just tally-mark numbers and a few simple sketched pictograms among the sequentially crossed-off days.
“You can’t read?” Celestia was blindsided by the revelation, washed with a suddenly uncomfortable awareness of just how much she took education and literacy for granted in the ponies she usually found herself around.
“No.” Winter shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Never got the chance to learn how.”
“Oh.” Celestia felt bad about making Winter self-conscious. She shrugged, trying to downplay it. “Well, I suppose a lot of ponies don’t.”
“I wish I did,” Winter said.
“You could learn, if you want,” Celestia suggested.
“I don’t think I have the time for it, now.” Winter shook her head. She stared wistfully out the window. “Always too much work to do. Growing wheat is an all-year nonstop kind of farming. If I took a season off I wouldn’t have enough to pay the land rent. Then I’d be in real trouble, wouldn’t I?”
“Well, at least you’re good at wheat.” Celestia offered her a smile, then looked out the window. “At least you like what you do.”
“That’s true, I guess.” Winter smiled back. “It could be worse. But believe me, someday when I have foals, they will learn how letters work. I’ll make sure of that.”
Celestia just nodded.
“Do you have any foals, Miss Celestia?” Winter asked.
“Please.” Celestia shook her head. “You don’t have to call me ‘Miss.’ Just Celestia.” Addressing unicorns with a title was the usual respectful courtesy that earth ponies were expected to show, but she didn’t feel particularly deserving right now. It was more the opposite; every ‘Miss’ just felt like a little more salt rubbed into a wound.
“Alright, Just-Celestia.” Winter Wheat smirked and giggled.
Celestia also laughed.
“So, do you?” Winter asked again.
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you want to have any?”
“I—” Celestia paused “—You know, it seems like I’ve always been so busy either studying or working that I’ve never really stopped and thought about it. Can you believe that?”
“Somepony like you? I guess I could believe it.” Winter nodded. “Do you like what you do?”
“I think I used to like it a lot better,” Celestia mumbled, staring down at her plate.
“What was better before?”
“I didn’t—” Celestia’s mouth snapped shut.
I didn’t work on helping to take away your future and your chance to have those foals, for one. “…I didn’t always just write pointless research reports,” she said.
“Not your special talent, huh?”
“No.” Celestia shook her head. “I’m good enough at it to get stuck with it, unfortunately. But actually I used to be a Solarite, until I was pulled off of that and put on projects like this instead.”
“A sun-mover?” Winter’s eyes went wide with awe. “So that explains the cutie mark…”
“Yes, I get that a lot.” Celestia smiled slightly and nodded. “It sounds more impressive than it really is, though, honestly. I was just one small part of it. It takes a whole team, and special machines. Nopony could ever hope to do it all alone.”
☙ ☀ ❧
On yet another of the seemingly endless cold winter’s mornings, dry wheat stalks crunched under Celestia’s hooves, making a constant noise as she trudged onward through frozen fields she didn’t recognize in the direction of a goal she couldn’t see. She wasn’t sure where she was, but to her left, the rising sun had just cracked over the eastern horizon, so she knew she was walking south. The dark walls of Quartz City were behind her, already far away and getting farther with every step. There were clouds gathering over the city and the surrounding lands, steel-gray and menacing, looking brutally cold and ready to drop relentless driving snow all across the Kingdom.
The sight was frightening and ominous, sending pangs of intense anxiety and a sense of helplessness twisting through her. She looked forward and walked on, making her way south, sensing somehow that it was the only thing to do. Icy, piling, terrible snow was coming, but if she kept moving, maybe she could stay ahead of it…
⁂
…It was mid-day and the sun was high up now, bright and warm, covering all the land with life-giving light. It bathed her in a familiar and welcome gentle heat, filling her, soaking through her skin, charging through her horn and coursing in her blood, comforting her all the way down to her bones.
She looked around and found herself awed by how beautiful her surroundings were. Wide plains spread out in front of her in an endless emerald sea of grassland, under a clear sky bluer than she’d ever imagined was possible. The grass rolled in shimmering waves driven by warm, gentle breezes that carried a subtle perfume, the smell of summer and sunshine and distant flowers—the scent of life itself. She could feel herself falling into an almost hypnotic rapture at the wonder of it all.
But even finding herself in the midst of this Elysium, some part of her still held back, trying to stay wary and detached. Analytical thoughts ran through this reserved part of her mind, telling her that this place had to be much nearer to the equator than the Unicorn Kingdom for the sun to be so far overhead in the sky. It never rose this high so far north.
Most of her, though, was preoccupied by the wondrousness of just being here, in the moment. This land was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and somehow she became aware that it was calling, whispering… singing to her. She could hear it in her mind – not words, exactly, but more abstract impressions that gave rise to urges in her thoughts, a gentle tug enticing her into its embrace.
Celestia… come find this place.
It was a very attractive idea, one that she desperately wanted to hold on to.
She lowered her head and ran her muzzle through the lush, thick grass. It caressed her face and the earthy smell of the dark, rich, fertile soil it grew from filled her nostrils.
This is where you belong.
Yes. Yes, it was. There was nothing she wanted more than to be here…
⁂
…A lone mountain rose out of the plains, a tower of steep-sloped bare rock. She stood among its foothills and looked up. It reached into the sky, so tall it was almost beyond the limits of her sense of scale. It just stretched up, on and on without end until its high peaks disappeared somewhere in misty veils of cloud.
Her head was tilted back, eyes wide in an uncomprehending vertical stare. There were mountains near Quartz City, but nothing… nothing like this. Nothing else in all the world was like this, she was sure of it.
How could there be? It seemed so completely unreal.
And yet…
Your path leads here.
It was a magnetic thought, drawing her in as if she was a piece of iron and the whole mountain was one giant lodestone.
The urge was irresistible, sending an electric tingle through her that set the fur of her coat on end. She had to find this place. She had to! Almost involuntarily, she whinnied and stomped the ground in excitement…
⁂
With a small but sudden twitch of her legs and a sharp gasping inhalation, Celestia’s eyes snapped open to a dark room. She looked around in confusion. Just enough dim moonlight came through the window to be able to tell where she was – her bedroom. After a moment she started piecing together her momentarily disoriented perceptions.
A dream?
Her racing thoughts were filled with a jumbled recollection of images: grassy meadows, warm breeze, a mountain, the bright sun so far overhead in the incredibly blue sky…
…all a dream?
She focused on her horn and it lit up, generating a wide cone of white light that illuminated her small room, showing her familiar stone walls and cramped bookshelves with their eclectic assortment of different volumes. A turn of her head aimed the light at her little nightstand clock. It was early morning, close to when sunrise was scheduled but not quite there yet.
Yes… just a dream.
Her heart sank. It was a dream she wished she was still having.
She let out a wistful sigh, then her hornlight went out while her head dropped back down onto her pillow. She tossed and turned unhappily while she pulled her partially cast-off blanket back over herself, trying to find whatever warmth she could in the cold dark winter.
Early in the morning, a knock at the door interrupted the meal—breakfast for Celestia, a late dinner for Luna—that the sisters were quietly eating at their kitchen table.
The two of them looked up from their food and stared at each other for half a second. “I’ll get it,” Celestia said, managing to swallow and volunteer before Luna could finish chewing. Luna just nodded to avoid talking with her mouth full while Celestia stood up and exited the kitchen, walking through the living room to the front of the house.
When she cracked the door open and looked outside, a unicorn mare was waiting on the step. She was a bit shorter than Celestia and had a white coat that might have almost been tinted with a hint of green, although it was hard to tell in the dawn light. Her mane and tail were less subtle: the vibrant shade of fresh clover, spilling out and flowing in waves and ringlets from under a darker forest green cloak.
“Good morning.” The unicorn smiled and studied Celestia for a moment with striking gold eyes. “Are you Thaumite Celestia?”
Celestia immediately felt a little uneasy about being referred to by title, but nodded. “Yes,” she responded. “How can I help you?”
“Ah! Excellent.” The unicorn grinned. “I have the right address, then. You’d be surprised how often I get mixed up. Excuse me. I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Clover, and I’m a royal mage.”
Celestia was left tongue-tied for a moment with sudden incredulity. “Not… not Clover the Clever? Cardinal mage? The royal mage to Princess Platinum?” she finally managed.
“Oh. You’ve heard of me,” Clover deadpanned.
“Everypony in Quartz City has heard of you.” Celestia stared wide-eyed at the pony at her door. “Especially in Thaumosciences.”
“Have they? Well, the stories are all true!” Clover beamed. “…Ummm, or not, in the case of the ones that are unflattering. Anyway, may I come in?”
“Please do.” Celestia opened the door and moved out of the way.
“Thank you.” Clover nodded and walked inside. Celestia shut the door after her.
“I really should apologize, firstly,” Clover said, looking around the small house. “I’m sorry for showing up here. I know it’s your day off, but I’m told you’ve been spending every workday from dawn to dusk collecting data out in the field this last week or so. You’re hard to reach in person without resorting to this.”
“I’m sorry,” Celestia said contritely. “I didn’t know anypony was trying to reach me. I’m sure that if you’d left a message at the Thaumoscience Authority offices, I would have gotten it sooner or later.”
“Oh, no, I really wanted this discussion to be in person.” Clover shook her head. “Messages are… well, to be honest, I didn’t want any intermediaries reading them. Not this time.”
“Discussion about what?” Celestia looked at Clover in confusion. She couldn’t imagine what on Equus a cardinal mage of Clover the Clever’s stature could possibly want to discuss with an unknown junior thaumite like her.
“Your recent report, of course,” Clover replied.
“Oh.” Celestia’s ears lowered. “Oh, that.”
“Yes. That.” Clover took off her cloak and hung it on the coat rack near the door, revealing a small saddlebag underneath. She opened the saddlebag and used her magic to pull out a stack of papers bound together. Celestia recognized what Clover was holding, and wasn’t very happy to see it again.
Just then, Luna walked into the living room from the kitchen, looking curious. “Hello,” she greeted the visitor.
“Good morning,” Clover responded, turning to look in her direction. “You must be… hmmm, don’t tell me. Luna, right?”
“Yes.” Luna tilted her head and half-closed one eye. “And you are?”
“Luna, this is Clover the Clever,” Celestia hastily introduced her. “A royal cardinal mage.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Clover nodded to Luna. “You’re about to be a thaumite too, aren’t you? Apprenticing to become a lunarite specialist?”
“Uhh… yes!” Luna nodded, suddenly wide-eyed at their unexpectedly famous guest’s personal knowledge about herself. “How did you know?”
“It was in your personnel file,” Clover said.
Celestia peered at Clover. “Forgive me, but may I ask why you were reading my sister’s personnel file?”
“Because your file said you had a sister who was also in Thaumosciences, so I took a look at hers, too, just to be thorough. Seemed the smart thing to do.”
“But… why were you looking at my file?” Celestia asked, with a trace of alarm.
Clover just waved the report back and forth a few times.
“…Right.” Celestia’s voice was flat and she lowered her head to the level of her withers while she stared at the floor. “Of course.”
“It caught my attention, that’s for sure,” Clover said. “A real standout among all the various bits of research that come across my desk concerning the, umm… well. The situation I’m sure you’re aware of. The one I know Star Fire has you working on. I have developments concerning it forwarded to me so I can keep pace with them, since it’s my job to keep Princess Platinum informed about these things. It’s a fairly high priority, as you can imagine.”
“Princess Platinum?” Celestia asked with surprise. “I hadn’t realized the plan to—err, it—was so concerning to the Princess personally.”
“Oh, you’d better believe it is.” Clover said. She pointed toward Luna. “Does she know what we’re talking about?”
For a bare fraction of a second, Luna’s eyes widened with alarm. Celestia saw it but kept a stone face. Clover hadn’t noticed, she didn’t think. As long as Celestia didn’t react, she hoped she wouldn’t give her sister away.
Clover waited for an answer. Celestia considered lying, but hesitated. She knew that if the truth was really in question, there was magic that could probably determine it. On the other hoof, she also knew this kind of magic wasn’t likely to actually be used, not here and not now, but just the chance…
No. It wasn’t worth it, she decided. Digging both of them deeper into the hole wasn’t what she or Luna needed. Besides, she had an unpleasant feeling that Clover wouldn’t be asking without a good reason, and must already have a pretty fair idea of the answer. Was… was this a test? Did Clover know? Did Clover just want her to think she knew to see what she’d say?
Best to just not risk it, she decided.
“Yes,” she sighed. “She knows. How did you know?”
“Actually, I didn’t, but I do now.” Clover grinned. “I just thought there was a good chance. You’re sisters, and roommates besides. Keeping secrets from each other can be difficult, I have to think.”
“It’s not something we’re used to, I admit,” Luna stepped in. “Please don’t be angry with my sister. It’s really my fault. I needled it out of her. It just… seemed to upset her so. I couldn’t sit and do nothing.”
“Nor would I expect you to,” Clover said, shaking her head. “That’s not what a good sister would do, is it? And actually, it’s better this way, since it makes things easier. Honestly, I think you were just going to find out one way or another. At least now we can get past the pretense and really talk without having to sneak around.”
“Please… you won’t inform my supervising mage, will you?” Celestia pleaded.
“Good old Star Fire?” Clover laughed. “No, I don’t think she needs to know. That is, as long as you don’t tell her I came around here. I think that’s a deal we can agree on, yes?”
“Oh! Yes, that’d be fine,” Celestia agreed quickly.
“Perfectly fine,” Luna added.
Something seemed strange to Celestia about Clover not wanting Star Fire to know about this, given how greatly Clover outranked Star Fire and really shouldn’t have needed to care, but she also didn’t question it in her eagerness to reach an arrangement that avoided getting Luna and herself in trouble. The less Star Fire knew about any aspect of her personal life, the better, as far as she was concerned.
“Wonderful!” Clover smiled. “Then I think we have some things to discuss.”
“Would you like to sit down?” Celestia asked.
“That’d be good,” Clover agreed.
Celestia led the way into the kitchen, where they all sat down around the small table.
“Would you like something to drink?” Celestia offered Clover. “Coffee or tea?”
“I’d love some coffee, if you have any,” Clover said.
“It so happens that we do.” Celestia filled a mug from the coffee pot, already brewed to go with breakfast.
“Thank you.” Clover sipped from the steaming cup. “Ahh, caffeine’s a lifesaver. It was an early morning. Of course—” she yawned “—that’s all a matter of perspective. I imagine it feels more like the opposite for you, Luna. I hope I’m not keeping you up too late with my visit.”
“It’s fine.” Luna shrugged. “The lunar schedule comes with inconveniences, but they don’t bother me.”
“Alright,” Clover said. “Well, Celestia, to get to it, what grabbed my attention about your report was the recommendations section. It was conspicuously not endorsed by Star Fire, which interested me because it meant that it might have some original thought for once on the climate and agricultural crisis we’re facing instead of being tailored to conclude with the standard parroting about unicorn supremacy.”
“I just wrote what I thought might best help, given the problem and what the data seemed to say about the cause,” Celestia said.
“The common sense approach.” Clover nodded. “I like it. Your recommendations were my thoughts exactly. They still are. If only everypony else would see things our way instead of just nodding their empty heads in agreement with a terrible plan.”
“You don’t want the plan to replace earth ponies to proceed?” Celestia asked.
“Of course not.” Clover rolled her eyes. “It would be an unmitigated disaster like ponykind has never seen before. Frankly, I’m not sure how any of us would survive in the long run. Earth ponies are obviously in the most immediate trouble, but it has bad implications for unicorns, just as much. This relates to the other thing that really caught my attention in your report—the genealogical portion.”
“Most of that work was far from complete,” Celestia said.
“Yes, but it was enough for me to know you’re on the right track.” Clover took a sip of her coffee. “It tossed more data on something that I’ve thought for a long time.”
“Dropping genetic diversity?”
“Exactly.” Clover nodded. “Unicorn Kingdom policies encourage us all to choose mates who produce the most strongly magical foals, but those policies failed to consider all the consequences of concentrating the same few magicality genes too frequently. As your report pointed out, there’s no reproductive crossover between different types of ponies anymore, as there would normally have been in the past, and even within unicorns, there’s growing isolation into splintered segments.”
“What does that mean will happen?” Luna asked.
“What I think it means is that unicorns are getting more magical through selective breeding, but it’s superficial and fragile in a lot of ways,” Celestia said. “Problems are going to start showing soon.”
“Oh, they already are,” Clover said. “The talent pools of most unicorns are narrowing. Good general purpose mages with a wide range of ability are getting harder to find than they used to be. There’s a lot of unicorns now that are very strong at one type of magic, but only one. Trying to make us stronger at certain magics is making us less fit overall, ironically.”
“Yes,” Celestia said. “I wasn’t able to prove it, but I’m sure that’s part of what’s happening.”
“It wouldn’t be easy to prove without generations’ worth of empirical data that we don’t have.” Clover nodded. “But I do know that the unicorns I run into that are both strongly magical and broadly talented all seem to come from more diverse backgrounds than normal these days. Like myself, for example, if I can be so bold.”
“May I ask what your background is?” Luna inquired.
“If you repeat this to anypony else, I’ll swear up and down all day long it’s not true,” Clover said with a small smile, “but just between the three of us, the walls, and the kitchen table here: my mother was a unicorn and my father was an earth pony. I’ve always suspected that my level of ability comes at least partly from some sort of hybrid vigor.”
“So there’s certainly hope for reversing things, if we can get ponies to understand the situation,” Luna said. “Isn’t there?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Clover nodded. “I think your sister is one of the few who’s positioned to see what’s really going on, and with more ability to pursue research on her ideas I’m hoping she might be able to help figure out how to cause just that kind of reversal, before it’s too late.”
Luna opened her mouth, but closed it again without speaking and just looked down at the table with a troubled expression.
“What is it?” Celestia asked, looking at Luna.
“Nevermind,” Luna said. “I’m not even a real thaumite yet. I don’t think I can offer much.”
“Psshhh.” Clover waved a hoof. “I don’t care if you’re a street-sweeper, I’m open to anything that sounds good at this point. Where it comes from isn’t important. Whatever help you can offer would be valuable.”
Luna still hesitated. Celestia reached out and gently put her forehoof on hers, giving her an encouraging little nod.
“South.” Luna finally said, looking up and staring right into Clover’s eyes. “We need to go south.”
“South?”
“Yes.” Luna nodded emphatically. “South.”
“What makes you say that?” Celestia asked.
“Do you remember when I asked if we were good ponies? Right before you found out about all this?”
“I have been wondering what that was all about,” Celestia said.
“It’s because of a dream I had,” Luna said. “I saw Quartz City being completely buried in snow, and there was nothing that could stop it. I watched it happening, and I knew something had gone terribly wrong—it was something wrong with us, something we were doing to make this happen. I didn’t know what it was, I just knew it was m— our fault. It was more than a week ago, and I… I thought it was about something different, at first. But now that I’m hearing all this… well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just coincidence. But I know how it made me feel. What it said to me. It said, ‘South’.”
Celestia felt surprised, and vaguely worried. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“Because it was just a dream.” Luna shrugged. “It felt… how do I describe it? Strange, and real, in a way most dreams don’t… and I worried about it, but I thought it meant—” Luna coughed. “I didn’t think it meant anything at all. That’s just silly superstition, isn’t it? To think a dream can tell you what you have to do? How could a dream know where those kinds of green fields are?”
“Green fields?” Celestia was floored, recalling her own vivid dreams, suddenly feeling it fit together. “Did you see it? Did… did you see the mountain? The meadows? The sun higher in the sky than it ever is here? And they all told you it’s where you have to go?”
“Yes!” Luna exclaimed. “You did too?”
“I saw it too.” Celestia nodded. “But only just recently, last night.”
“Last night?” Clover asked. Her ears perked up. “Luna, you happened to dream this right before Celestia learned about this plan, and Celestia, you just happened to dream the same thing right before I showed up this morning?”
“It seems that way.” Celestia nodded.
“Interesting,” Clover said quietly. “Very, very interesting…”
“Do you think there’s something to it?” Celestia asked. “More than just coincidence?”
“I think I’d better see this dream you and your sister had,” Clover declared.
“You want to see our dreams?” Luna asked dubiously. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“Oh, easy.” Clover waved a hoof as if the answer was obvious. “I’ve got the equipment back at the palace. It’s too large and delicate for me to haul out and set up here, though. We’ll have to go there.”
“What? You want us to go to the palace?” Celestia asked incredulously. “As in, the royal palace?”
“Well, of course!” Clover smiled. “That is where I work, usually. Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get closer to some answers, I hope.” She was already up and moving, grabbing her cloak from the coat rack with telekinetic magic and settling it over herself.
☙ ☀ ❧
A few moments of preparation and a quick teleport later—a more pleasant natural unicorn-magic teleport, not one of the harsh machines in the transit center—the three of them were standing just outside the gate to the grounds of the Quartz City royal palace. Celestia stared at the magnificent structure with wide, awestruck eyes while Clover led the way through the open gate, down a long path through the lawn towards the building.
Royal guards, standing evenly spaced in a perimeter around the building’s facade, were already watching them like hawks. They were holding long, formidable spears, and the armor they wore was more ornate and polished than the usual city guard, with a crystal set in the front chestplate that Celestia recognized as a thaumoshielding lens to protect them from magical attacks. Each and every one of them was perfectly motionless, but Celestia could feel their stares boring into her, silently challenging her presence, accusing her without words of being in the wrong place.
The intimidation factor, she supposed, was part of the point of having guards like these. It was working, too. The closer they got, the more she wanted to turn back with her head hanging and her tail between her legs.
“Are they even going to let us in?” she asked quietly, voicing her most immediate concern.
“What, the royal guard? Don’t worry about them,” Clover said, proceeding along confidently as if they weren’t even there. “It’s fine, you’re with me.”
“…Right…” Celestia had trouble processing what was happening. It was all so fast—a few minutes ago she was eating breakfast in her house, looking forward to a quiet, restful day off, and now all of a sudden she was here at the royal palace, about to just walk right in? If it wasn’t actually happening right before her eyes, she would have laughed at how absurd it was. Was she still dreaming and just didn’t realize it yet?
They closed in on the building and ascended a long flight of stone steps. At the top, they reached a covered landing and a set of massive doors cast from dark bronze. The doors were decorated in finely detailed relief with life-like figures—proud kings, queens, princes and princesses, unicorn knights in heavy armor, griffons, warrior pegasi, eagles, dragons, all kinds of fearsome martial creatures. Glittering jewels set in their eyes served as anchors for powerful protective spells intense enough for Celestia to sense in her horn without even trying, like feeling the heat radiating off of burning coals.
More royal guards stood around the landing. None of them stopped or challenged Clover when she opened the doors with some sort of specially keyed telekinetic magic and escorted the sisters in. Celestia realized there was no reason for them to bother. With such strong protective seals in place, nopony unauthorized could have possibly entered anyway.
The three of them stepped out of the cold outside and into a much warmer grand vestibule. It had a stone floor of checkered black and white polished marble and a high vaulted ceiling. Huge chandeliers made from thousands of small glowing crystals illuminated everything with pleasant light. The walls were lined with statue alcoves, paintings, and relics on display behind thick glass. Celestia and Luna looked around, silently gawking as they took in the opulence of it all.
“The royal court is through there, if you’re wondering.” Clover pointed a hoof straight ahead toward a set of wide wooden doors at the opposite end of the vestibule. “But our stop is this way.” She turned toward a smaller hallway branching off to their right.
Celestia’s eye caught a hint of motion, something iridescent blue and green. She turned to look and saw a peacock walking toward them, a gorgeous living gem shining with intense sapphire and emerald plumage. A peacock! she thought, incredulous and wanting to laugh with sheer wonder. Right here, just free roaming in the vestibule! The sense that she had to be dreaming was stronger than ever.
The bird wandered up close to Clover, his long train dragging behind him and short talons clicking quietly on the hard stone floor. He stared, his avian face seeming almost hopeful.
“Sorry, Beryl,” Clover said to him. “I’m afraid I don’t have any seeds for you at the moment.”
Beryl lowered his upstretched head a bit, looking as if he understood just enough to be disappointed.
“Princess Platinum’s pet peacock, Beryl,” Clover introduced Celestia and Luna. “He has the run of the palace. Like all peacocks, he thinks he’s king of his harem flock, which I should probably warn you, you’re automatically part of as long as you’re inside the palace. Fortunately, he’s quite benevolent towards his ‘consorts’.” Clover leaned down gave him a gentle nuzzle on the breast. “Aren’t you, Beryl? Yes, you’re just a big sweetheart,” she baby-talked.
Beryl squawked, a loud, surprising sound that made Celestia and Luna startle. He hopped backwards out of nuzzling reach with clumsy half-flaps of his wings, rebuffing Clover’s audacity for touching him. After looking around awkwardly for a second or two, he started preening in an attempt to reclaim some of his injured dignity.
“Aww, well, he’s a little skittish, I guess. Anyway…” Clover turned away from Beryl and looked up again. “Onward,” she declared, resuming her march toward the hallway off to the right side of the vestibule. The sisters briefly exchanged a look of wide-eyed disbelief, then followed close behind her.
The hallway they turned off into was more plain, with few decorations. Instead, the walls were lined with doors marked as offices and private rooms. The floor was carpeted, which made it quieter and easier on the hooves.
“So you really have a dreamwalking device?” Luna asked while they walked. “I thought they were very rare.”
“Oh, yes.” Clover nodded. “I built it a while ago. I needed it in order to… well, that was then, and it’s a long story that doesn’t matter now. But yes, I have one.”
“And it won’t—”
“No, it won’t scramble anypony’s brains,” Clover said in sudden exasperation. “We’ve all heard the stories about Cometchaser, but that’s not what happened to her, I assure you.”
Luna’s eyes went wide and she was speechless for a moment. “…I was just going to ask if it won’t need us to be asleep to work,” she said timidly. “…Who’s Cometchaser?”
“…Oh,” Clover muttered. “You nevermind.”
They walked on in silence for a short time.
Before long, somepony was coming toward them down the hallway. It was a mare, and she was beautiful, with a perfect snowy white coat and a long, well-coiffured mane of silver hair shining like fine-spun strands of metal. A crown of mirror-polished platinum set with water-clear, pale blue aquamarines rested on her head, balanced behind her long, gracefully tapered and fluted horn. A cape of intense purple trimmed with ermine draped over her back and down her sides.
Clover stopped and moved to the side of the hallway as she came near, signaling the sisters to follow her lead.
“Good morning, Princess,” Clover said, bowing her head respectfully. Celestia and Luna bowed likewise, taking the cue.
“Good morning, Cardinal Clover.” The princess stopped for a moment. Celestia noticed her eyes when she looked past Clover momentarily, glancing at the sisters. They were pale icy blue, expressionless and aloof, cold and opaque as the frost covering a window on a midwinter’s dawn. Those cold, royal eyes sweeping over her sent a jitter through Celestia’s nerves, but she didn’t dare to let any hint of it show.
“Who are these guests?” the princess asked.
“Prospective research assistants, Princess,” Clover replied. “I’ve brought them here to interview them personally. I have a feeling these two will be quite helpful.”
“I see.” The princess sounded remote and disinterested.
In her periphery, Celestia briefly caught sight of a pale blue glow in the princess’ horn, and she thought it felt like there was a strange sort of magic in it… something strong, and unfamiliar. She wondered at first exactly what it could be, but then she saw the blue glow envelop the crown on the princess’ head, adjusting it slightly. Maybe it was nothing more than telekinesis, she reasoned. She was probably just letting her nervous imagination run away with her. Yes. That must be it.
“May I present Thaumite Celestia, and her sister, Luna,” Clover introduced them.
“Welcome to the palace.” The princess gave them a single tiny nod.
“Thank you, Princess,” Celestia said, still not brave enough to look directly up at her. “It’s an honor to be here.”
“Yes, thank you, Princess,” Luna repeated. “We are honored.”
“I’m sure,” the princess said. “Well, I’m due in court. I’ll move on and let you go about your business.”
“Yes, of course, Princess,” Clover said. “Good day.”
The princess moved past them and continued walking down the hall, leaving them behind without another word.
When she was gone, Clover resumed leading them through the hallway.
“Did we just meet Princess Platinum?” Luna whispered.
“I think so.” Celestia nodded.
“You did indeed,” Clover confirmed. “What do you think?”
“I think I would have brushed my coat and done something nicer with my mane if I’d known this was how I would be spending my morning,” Celestia said.
“I’ve heard Princess Platinum’s special talent is that she can always tell if somepony is telling her the truth or not,” Luna said. “I felt a spell she used. Was she trying to detect that?”
The sisters looked at each other in confusion. “Research assistants?” Luna whispered, raising one brow.
Celestia just shrugged in bewilderment.
Clover stopped in front of the door to a private room. “Well, here we are.” A brief glow of magic flared from her horn, and the lock clicked and released. “My apartment. After you.” She opened the door and motioned the two sisters inside.
They found themselves in what was clearly the den of a wizard: a cluttered workspace of crystals, thaumosensors, tools, and stacks of books and scrolls scrawled all over with notes and diagrams. Celestia looked around at the scene and took in a sense of sheer organized chaos, everything on tables and shelves in haphazard groups with no common theme.
Most of the open space was in the center of the room, where Celestia and Luna stood. Clover walked past some of the assorted bric-a-brac, weaving between shelves toward a far corner. She grabbed a sheet of cloth covering something there and pulled it away, sending a thin cloud of dust into the air and unveiling a stack of parts: flat, curved steel segments, a few disassembled support arms, and an assortment of large crystals.
“You’ll have to excuse that it’s in pieces right now.” Clover tossed aside the sheet. “I haven’t had a reason to use it in a while. It may take a minute to throw together.”
She carefully levitated the collection of parts toward the middle of the room, gently ushering Celestia and Luna off to one side while she started working. The steel segments fit together to form a large ring, wide enough for several ponies to stand in. It had numerous threaded holes that the support arms screwed into, and those in turn held up arrays of crystals in the air, forming a ring overhead that mirrored the steel ring on the ground below. Even in their inactive state, Celestia sensed a peculiar ebb and flow to the way magic interplayed through those crystals. She could tell it was a resonant loop of some kind, but it was complicated and its exact purpose was beyond her.
Luna also seemed to feel it, watching Clover with fascination while she worked on the device.
“It’s ready,” Clover announced after a short time, looking over her machine. “Celestia, if you’re up for going first, I think that’d be best. Your dream was just last night, so it’ll be the easier one to find while I reacquire the hang of operating this contraption.”
“And you’re sure this won’t scramble anypony’s brains?” Luna asked.
Clover gave her an annoyed scowl with one eye half-closed.
“Okay, okay!” Luna ducked her head and shrank back under Clover’s withering glare. “You’re the one who mentioned it,” she mumbled defensively.
“Hmmm. I guess I did.” Clover’s face softened. “Fine, it’s a fair question. No, it won’t scramble your brains. It can’t, doesn’t work that way. The worst it can do is show us frightening images, if either of you has been having particularly terrifying nightmares lately. Have you?”
“No, nothing comes to mind.” Celestia shook her head.
“Me neither,” Luna said.
“Well, then we’re good,” Clover said. “So, Celestia, how about it?”
“Alright.” Celestia nodded. “I admit I’m nervous, but I doubt I can get any more ready, so I suppose we might as well go ahead.”
“Then step into the circle, both of you. Easiest if we all do this together.” Clover entered and motioned for the sisters to join her. They did, Celestia a little more quickly than Luna.
“Now, keep in mind, nothing you see in here is real,” Clover said. “It may seem convincing, but it’s all just a replay of something that’s only in your head, and already in the past. Just stay calm. This might feel… weird.”
Clover’s horn started glowing. The crystals overhead responded, lighting up in random bursts of rainbow colors. They pulsed slowly at first, then sped up, the colors overlapping until they merged together into a soft white glow. The light flooded around Celestia, forming a curtain that screened out the rest of the room and grew in intensity until there was nothing but a blank white field all around her. The floor felt like it dropped away under her hooves, leaving her floating in an endless, directionless void of pure light.
Then the light faded, but there was no darkness to replace it. For a fraction of second she wondered how this was possible, then her thoughts started flickering out, one by one, until there was nothing left.
☙ ☀ ❧
Is this what it’s like to be dead?
Everything was gone. Time didn’t exist. There was no dark or light. Sight was a lost concept, along with any other form of sense perception. There were no directions, and no gravity, but that felt natural, since there was no space anyway.
But there was… something…
No. No, it can’t be. If I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to think, so—
A field of dancing lights, endlessly repeated in intricate ever-shifting kaleidoscopic patterns, bloomed in front of her, or at least where she assumed ‘front’ was.
She could see again. The realization broke over her in a wave, followed by similar reacquisitions of tactile sense, and hearing.
There was ground under her hooves. It felt soft. It smelled like… grass. She could smell grass.
She remembered that smell. It was wonderful. She took a deep, slow breath and savored it.
She realized her eyes were closed. When she opened them, a clear blue sky greeted her, stretching away to the horizon over endless verdant meadows. The air was warm with a fragrant, gentle breeze. The sun was shining, soaking into her. Celestia recognized the setting and smiled. Being here again filled her with happiness.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” Clover’s impressed voice came from Celestia’s left. She turned and looked to see Clover standing next to her.
“I certainly thought so,” Celestia agreed.
“As did I,” Luna said from Celestia’s right. “This is exactly as I remember it.”
Clover walked around a little bit. Celestia could see a faint, silvery-white thread, like a thin gossamer filament made of light, coming out of Clover’s forehead just below the base of her horn. It stretched upward toward the sky for a few meters until it faded away. She turned to look at Luna, and saw another one attached to her sister.
Luna stared back, eyes momentarily going wide. “Oh! Do I have a…?” She pointed a hoof at her forehead and crossed her eyes, trying to see it.
“Yes, you do,” Celestia said. “What about me?” She also tried to look, but couldn’t quite see if anything was there.
“You too.” Luna nodded.
“It must be where the link comes in,” Celestia noted. “I was wondering how this would work.”
“We’re linked together?” Luna asked. “Is this something like a telepathy spell?”
“Only a very superficial form of one,” Clover answered her, walking back over to the sisters. “It’s not a direct connection. We can’t share thoughts or anything, if you’re wondering. All it does is dig out memories formed during REM sleep, amplify them in the crystal loop, then recreate the setting and hook us into the sensory perceptions associated with it. Simple, right?”
“Maybe, if you’re a genius mage,” Luna said.
“I’ve been accused of it.” Clover giggled, as if the thought was amusing. “But, really, I didn’t build this on my own. I had a lot of help, so I hardly think it’d be fair for me to take the credit.”
The three of them stood around looking at the landscape.
“This place doesn't remind me of anywhere near Quartz City,” Clover said. “Have you ever been somewhere like this in your waking life?”
“No, it…” Celestia looked up into the sky. The sun was where she remembered it being in her dream, much farther overhead than she ever normally saw it. “Never. There’s no time I’ve ever been as far from Quartz City as this would have to be. We could only be somewhere much farther south. Look where the sun is.”
“I suppose so.” Clover nodded. “You said there was something calling you here, when you had this dream.”
“Yes,” Celestia said. “But I don’t know what it was.”
“Was it a voice?”
“No.” Celestia shook her head. “It was something inside my own mind, but not articulate like a voice. Not exactly words, more like… just a need that I felt, like nothing else could be more important.”
“That’s also how I felt,” Luna said.
“Do you think it was some other mind?” Clover asked. “Someone else sending the thought?”
“I couldn’t say.” Celestia shook her head. “But it didn’t feel like another person was present. I was alone, I’m sure of it. Besides, it didn’t seem like anything structured, just a primal urge from inside.”
“Whatever it was, it wasn’t merely sensory, in any case,” Clover said, thinking. “If it was, we’d all be perceiving it clearly, but it’s not here in the reconstruction. And it probably wasn’t any individual intelligence like a pony trying to send a message. Aside from invasive telepathy being rare, I doubt they’d try to use a dream.”
“So, what, then?”
“I have no idea.” Clover shrugged. “This mountain you both saw: did that feel significant also?”
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “Very much so. It was the same kind of attraction. It was almost like I was a piece of metal being pulled to a magnet. It was quite exciting, actually.”
“Hmm. Let’s move forward to that, then.”
Clover focused and her horn glowed. Everything around them became indistinct, feeling blurry and impossible to focus on. Celestia was surrounded by a sense of motion, but she wasn’t moving; the world was like water flowing around her perceptions, washing by with a force that could be felt but a substance that evaded being grasped. After a few seconds, it stopped and coalesced back into solidarity.
When it did, the mountain was there in front of them. They were standing in its foothills, from which it abruptly towered up at a seemingly impossible angle, an almost vertical face of stern, gray rock.
All three ponies craned their necks back and stared. Celestia felt a familiar vertigo coming on, spinning in her head and twisting in her stomach. As before, the mountain defied her sense of scale. It seemed unreal with its sheer enormity and the way it disappeared into a misty haze of low-hanging clouds shrouding its upper peaks.
“Whoa.” Clover’s face was blank. “I see why it left an impression.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it, not in my entire life,” Celestia said.
“I believe you.” Clover nodded. “Because neither have I.”
Seeing this again stirred something else inside of Celestia. It wasn’t the same compelling urge whispering in her thoughts the way it had before, but it brought back some of the tangible sensations: the ghost of a tingle in her skin, her coat standing on end, excited tightness in her limbs. The phantom of an urge to whinny fluttered in her chest. Her muscles twitched.
“I feel that,” Clover said. Celestia looked at her just in time to notice a small shudder run down her back. “Something got you worked up about this place enough for the excitement to translate into a visceral experience, obviously.”
“It was a very intense dream,” Celestia said.
“Must have been,” Clover said. “Was there anything more?”
“No. I woke up after this.”
Clover stood quietly, observing the mountain for a few more moments.
“Alright, let’s move on to Luna’s dream,” she finally said. “I’ll need to compare the two to be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“Of whether or not this is what I think it might be.”
Before Celestia could ask any further, Clover’s horn glowed while she focused magic in a bright aura. The world drowned in white light, surging until everything faded away into nothingness again.
☙ ☀ ❧
When Celestia next opened her eyes, it was dark. She was somewhere lit only by a small night-light crystal glowing the silvery color of the moon. The surface under her hooves wasn’t grass or soil. It was hard: a smooth, flat stone floor, she discovered by lightly tapping one hoof.
She looked around while her eyes adjusted and everything came into focus. The scene was familiar, but unexpected. It was nighttime, and they were back at home. In the dim light, she could see that the three of them were standing close together, packed into the small confines of Luna’s bedroom.
“Are we still in the dreamwalking machine?” Celestia felt confused. “What are we doing here?”
“Yes, we’re still in the machine. We’re in one of Luna’s dreams, I think I just have the wrong—” Clover was interrupted by motion suddenly stirring under the deep midnight blue covers on Luna’s bed.
A hoof reached out from underneath the blankets, hooking over the top edge and pushing them down to reveal the head and upper torso of a beautiful unicorn mare. She had a cream-colored coat with a pink cast, and a long, gorgeous, red and orange mane that flowed like silk and shined like fire, even in the low light. A warm smile came over her face while she pushed the covers down further and stared at Luna with inviting emerald green eyes.
Luna turned to look at Clover, tight-lipped and blank-faced. Clover and Celestia looked back at Luna, equally expressionless.
“Why are we seeing this?” Luna asked tensely.
“Sorry, sorry, I have the wrong blasted time index,” Clover said hastily. “I’m not sure if I’m too far forward or back, though. I haven’t practiced with the machine in a while and it’s tricky. I’m going to need to…” Clover trailed off, mumbling indistinctly and half-squinting, half-rolling her eyes in thought. While she worked, a subtle, rhythmic pulsing glow formed in her horn.
The beautiful mare pushed off the covers and stood up, rolling off the bed with a delicate, graceful motion. Her body was flawless, trim and fit with perfectly toned muscles in all the right places. She walked toward Luna, who seemed to be frozen.
Celestia watched, feeling uneasy. A few seconds went by and she became aware of a growing conflict inside herself. Anxiety mixed with bewilderment washed through her, but it was counterweighted by a pleasant, light fluttery sensation that gave her an enjoyable warmth… the beginnings of arousal, she was surprised and embarrassed to discover. It caught her off-guard and her conscious mind recoiled, telling her it was something she shouldn’t be feeling. Why would she be? Why here, why now? After a moment’s thought, however, she realized that it wasn’t actually her: it was just the machine replaying the sense experiences present during the dream into their minds. Whatever Luna had felt at the time was what they all felt.
This sudden understanding that she was getting a very unwanted and inappropriate front row view of her sister having one of those dreams made Celestia flush, her face burning like it was on fire. She stared at the floor, carefully avoiding meeting the eyes of anypony else.
The faint hint of a musky scent starting to seep into the air wasn’t helping, either. She winced as it hit her nostrils.
The mare took another step closer to Luna, walking with a slow, sensuous hip-swaying motion.
“I’d prefer if we moved on sooner rather than later,” Luna said, her voice rising a desperate octave. “…Anywhere, please…”
“Ah hah! I’ve got it! …I think.” Clover suddenly flared her horn into a bright glow. The distinctness of the surroundings blurred away in a flash, imparting a stronger sense of urgency to their motion than before. Everything rushed around them with a force like standing chest-deep in a fast-flowing river, washing away the world.
None of them wanted to look at each other. Seconds dragged on in an oppressive blanket of awkward silence until reality coalesced again.
When it did, they were back in open meadows under the bright sun and blue sky. The sensations in her body had shifted along with the surroundings, and Celestia was keenly aware that her involuntary tingles of anticipatory pleasure were gone. Their absence, she couldn’t help but notice with a touch of irony, was a great relief. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, feeling her chest loosen and relax as the tension ratcheted down a few notches.
Luna said nothing. She just turned away from the other two ponies and wouldn’t face them, nervously scuffing at the ground with one hoof.
Clover walked around, examining the scene. “Yes, here we are. It, uh…” She cleared her throat. “It certainly looks the same as your dream, Celestia.” She lowered her nose to the grass and inhaled in a long, slow breath. “And smells the same,” she concluded.
Celestia investigated for herself, using the opportunity to open some much-needed distance from other two ponies. She took a couple minutes to calm down and carefully take in the surroundings long enough to be sure. “There’s no differences as far as I can tell,” she said. “It’s the same place. Same grass, same sky, same sun overhead. Everything.”
“I agree,” Luna mumbled.
Clover nodded. “Then let’s move ahead to the mountain.”
Her horn glowed and once more the world rushed around them.
They were at the mountain again, in the foothills. It was also exactly as before, towering over them, as impressive as ever. If she hadn’t been told that this was Luna’s dream, Celestia would have sworn without hesitation they were still in her own. The examination they performed was quick and cursory, but not a lot was needed.
“It seems to confirm you really did have the same dream,” Clover commented.
“What does that mean?” Celestia asked.
“We’ll get to that,” Clover said. “But let’s discuss it somewhere outside of Luna’s head. I imagine this has been a little uncomfortable for us all.”
“Yes, please,” Luna said.
Clover’s horn glowed, and everything suddenly dissolved and faded yet again.
☙ ☀ ❧
Exiting dreamwalking was a much faster process than entering. There was only a fraction of a second of disorienting nothingness before Celestia opened her eyes and they were back in Clover’s apartment. As she did, the lights in the machine’s crystals were already slowly fading, powering down until they went completely dark.
“Well. That was an adventure, wasn’t it?” Clover stepped out of the steel ring.
“It was, uh—” Celestia coughed. “—It was something.”
Luna looked mortified. She shrank from the other two, stepping backwards out of the machine and timidly hiding her face behind a veil of cornflower mane.
“About what happened in there.” Clover turned to look at Luna. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I asked if either of you had had any nightmares, but I didn’t consider other kinds of… things… that might have been preferable to keep private. I apologize to both of you, for my oversight and the… my… navigation error.”
“It was a risk we had to take,” Luna mumbled. “The dreamwalking had to be done.”
“Sure, but… not like that,” Clover said, grimacing. “These are the kinds of things I should be more careful about. But, alas, they call me Clover the Clever, not Clover the Wise, and I’m afraid sometimes it becomes painfully clear just how different those two things are. I had no intention of embarrassing you two.”
“It’s alright,” Luna said quietly. She was still partly turned away from them, half-hiding.
It didn’t sound alright to Celestia. What she heard was the voice of a pony who was humiliated and hurt. She walked over to Luna and gently brushed her mane back from her face. Luna tried to turn away again, but Celestia stopped her, forcing her to make eye contact.
She looked in Luna’s teal eyes and she saw the fear and shame there, the question she knew Luna was too terrified to ask out loud. A tide of protective urges sprang up and gripped her heart. There was nothing she wanted more than to make those fears vanish.
“My sister does not embarrass me,” she said softly, nuzzling Luna on the cheek. “You never have, and you never will.”
Luna finally lifted her head and looked at Celestia gratefully. Celestia closed in and wrapped her in a hug.
“Thank you,” Luna whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“It was only a dream.” Celestia shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t choose for it to happen. I think we should move on and try not to think about it.”
“Indeed,” Clover chimed in. “We still have other things to discuss.”
She led them into the kitchen. They stood around a small table, where Clover served them cups of tea made with water that she instantly brought to a boil using her magic.
“So, we have established that your dreams were identical,” Clover began. “The implication of which, under the circumstances, is that this very likely wasn’t merely a dream.”
“Then what was it?” Celestia asked.
“A vision,” Clover answered her. “An important one. I mean, they usually are important, but this one may be especially so.”
“I thought ‘visions’ were just an old mare’s tale.”
“Sometimes old mares know what they’re talking about,” Clover said. “Starswirl the Bearded certainly did. Although.” She rubbed her chin. “He’s not a mare, and he wasn’t particularly old when— you know what? Bad example. Nevermind. The point is, he wouldn’t have ignored these things.”
“How should we respond to a vision like this one?” Luna asked.
“That’s just it.” Clover shook her head. “I’m not sure yet.”
“There seems to be an intention that we go south, as I pointed out before.”
“Yes, I see that now, but why?” Clover asked. “What’s the bigger purpose?” She started pacing in place. “There is one, you can be sure of that. Two sisters who are both very talented at magic have the same vision, right when one of them is put on a project that would bring us all to ruin? It’s not merely random. It can’t be.”
“Maybe we won’t know what’s in the south until we go there,” Celestia suggested.
“But that’s the rub, we don’t even know where ‘there’ is, exactly,” Clover said. “It’s not a good idea to just run off and hope to stumble into it by blind luck. I don’t see that being very productive, not to mention it would raise a lot of questions I’m not ready to answer yet.”
“I don’t know what else we can do, then.”
“Just try to get more information, I suppose.” Clover shrugged.
“How?” Celestia asked.
“Well, I’m glad you asked,” Clover said. “To get started on that process, you two are mine now.”
“…Yours?”
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “After a very compelling interview, I’m certain you’ll both make fine research assistants suited to my needs in a matter urgently required to support the interests of the Unicorn Kingdom. That’s what the paperwork will say. Transfers will be processed in the Thaumosciences offices before the day is out. By tomorrow, you’ll be reassigned, reporting to me.”
“But… how can you just…”
“Royal Cardinal Mage.” Clover winked. “When you reach Cardinal and you’re chosen to work directly for the crown, you’ll find you have a long leash to do what you want with and not a lot of ponies to rein you in.”
“Star Fire’s going to throw a conniption about one of her thaumites being taken away from her,” Celestia said. “Didn’t you want her not to know you’d visited us?”
“Ahh, well. I’d hoped not to ruffle any feathers unnecessarily, in case this didn’t pan out to anything.” Clover shrugged. “But it looks like I can’t get around it now. Yes, she’ll be upset, but you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, can you? And not that I go out of my way to do it, of course, but truth be told, it’s always a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine if the eggs getting broken are Star Fire’s.”
“To be honest, I can’t say I disagree,” Celestia admitted. “Sometimes I’d like to see her get a swift kick to the ovaries myself.”
Luna put one hoof over her mouth, trying to suppress a fit of giggles. “I just hope she doesn’t kick back.”
“Don’t you worry about her,” Clover said. “The paperwork will be in order. She’ll whine, but she won’t be able to do anything about it. Although, Luna, I don’t suppose your over-instructor is going to be too thrilled, either. Who am I stealing an apprentice from, again?”
“Night Veil,” Luna said.
“Hmm. That’s too bad, I actually like her.” Clover sighed. “Well, she wouldn’t have had you for too much longer, at least. You’ve already taken the qualification exams. That’s the important thing. You’re just filling required apprenticeship hours at this point to become a full-fledged lunarite, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Luna nodded. “I should have enough in three months or so, assuming I keep working on them.”
“I’ll make sure you get credited for the time you’re with me. If anything, it’ll look better anyway, being personally selected as a cardinal’s assistant.”
The three of them stood around the table quietly. The conversation died off while Clover finished her tea. Celestia and Luna glanced back and forth to each other.
“So, what happens now?” Celestia finally asked.
“Now? I need some time to think.” Clover rubbed her chin. “I have to figure out a next move. Besides, this was supposed to be a day off for you two. Sorry I’ve already taken up so much of your morning. You’re free to go for the rest of the day.”
“Do we report to you tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “Celestia, don’t go into the office or the field like you normally would, and Luna, don’t go to the lunar thaumocontroller. I’ll come to you. I know the way to your house. Just wait there. I should arrive a little after dawn tomorrow.”
“You don’t want us to come back to the palace?” Celestia asked. “Isn’t this where you work?”
“No, I’d just have to come out to meet you anyway.” Clover shook her head. “I can’t get you cleared through security for unescorted palace access that quickly, and it’ll draw too much attention if I keep dragging you two in and out with me repeatedly. My ability to speed things through in Thaumosciences still doesn’t mean all that much to the Royal Guard, I’m afraid. Speaking of which, I’ll escort you out.”
Clover collected their empty teacups and left them in the sink before leading the sisters to the door. “Enjoy your time off,” she told them. “Relax while you can. Tomorrow we’ll have work to do.”
When Celestia woke just before dawn the next morning and went to the kitchen to get breakfast, she found Luna already there, making toast for herself.
“Do you want some?” Luna offered.
“Yes. Thank you.” Celestia sat down at the table, still half asleep, her unbrushed mane messy and hanging in her face. A few minutes passed before Luna joined her at the table, setting down a plate stacked with slices of toast and a jar of jam.
Celestia used her magic to hover some toast and a knife in front of herself, and spread jam in a thick layer. The deep purple-black color and tiny seeds told her it was blackberry. The label on the jar also said so, once the haze of sleep started lifting enough for her to bother reading it.
“Congratulations, by the way,” Luna said between crunchy mouthfuls.
“What for?” Celestia asked.
“Well, you may not be back on the sun control team yet, but at least it looks like you’re not on that terrible earth pony project anymore.”
“I guess not.” Celestia shrugged. “But I can’t help thinking that by getting Clover’s attention, I might have been pulled out of the frying pan and gotten us both tossed in the fire.”
“I—” Luna yawned and blinked with slow, heavy eyelids. “I hope not.”
“Still tired?” Celestia asked.
“Very,” Luna said.
“Sorry. Did you get much sleep?”
“No.” Luna shook her head. “None, actually. I stayed up all night.”
“What?” Celestia cocked her head and looked at her sister. “Why?”
“I’m too used to the night schedule.” Luna shrugged. “I’ve learned that the fastest way to shift over to a day schedule in a hurry is to stay awake. Trying to sleep through it doesn’t do much good. Besides, even if I’d wanted to, I just…”
“What?”
“I can’t stop wondering what Cardinal Clover must think about me after yesterday.” Luna examined a piece of toast. “I know she told us both to be here, but you don’t really think she’s going to want anything to do with me, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Celestia asked.
Luna lapsed into silence. I think we both know why was written all over her embarrassed face. Celestia understood only too well. A fragmentary recollection of the beautiful mare lounging in Luna’s bed flashed through her mind, unbidden and unwelcome.
She pushed it aside in a disgusted instant, breaking eye contact with Luna and staring at her breakfast instead. She tuned out everything else and let herself be completely fascinated by the texture of the toast: the crunch of crispy, dry, warm bread and the way the constellation of hard but tiny seeds in the blackberry jam felt between her teeth. Both of them resumed eating in awkward silence, finishing without speaking.
Just after they were done, there was a knock at the door.
Celestia stood up and went to go answer it. Luna stayed in the kitchen, hiding at the sink where she was taking an extraordinarily long time to wash two plates and a knife, focusing on scrubbing them with meticulous deliberation as if nothing else existed.
As Celestia expected, it was Clover at the door, wrapped in her forest green cloak just like the previous morning. “Please, come in, Cardinal,” Celestia welcomed her.
“Thank you.” Clover entered, shaking off the early morning’s frosty cold. She removed her cloak, hanging it on the coat rack. “I brought coffee for us all this time,” she said, pulling a thermos out of her saddlebag.
“That’s appreciated.” Celestia smiled. “I’m sure we could all use it.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do, considering the imposition of this unexpected reassignment and what I’m afraid it might demand.”
“You make it sound ominous,” Celestia said. “Should it sound ominous?”
“Maybe it should.” Clover’s voice became grim. “I’ve come to some conclusions, but I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to say. We need to have a very serious talk.” She looked past Celestia, toward the back of the house where Luna was still hiding out in the kitchen. “All three of us, if we could.”
“Luna, would you come over here, please?” Celestia felt bad even as she called her sister over, but there didn’t seem to be any choice but to take that elephant head-on after all.
After a moment, Luna entered the living room with her head held low, dragging her hoofsteps.
Clover watched Luna’s demeanor with concern. “Is something the matter?” she asked.
“No… I just… I didn’t know if… you know…” Luna trailed off, mumbling. “…If you’d even want me around, after yesterday.”
“Ugh.” Clover rolled her eyes. “Look. I understand that it was an embarrassing moment for us all, and if you’re still hung up about it, then, again, I’m very sorry. It was my fault. But, while I don’t want to seem insensitive here, frankly we all have to get over it right now because we don’t have time. There are important things to deal with, and we’re going to need to work together to address them. I’ll forget all about it if you will, alright?”
Luna lifted her head a little, finally able to look at the other two ponies, and nodded in a small motion.
“Good,” Clover said. “So, let’s have some coffee and get woken up, and go over where we stand so far. Do you have cups?”
Celestia led the way into the kitchen, where she retrieved three mugs from a cabinet. Clover poured coffee for each of them after they sat down at the table.
“First things first.” Clover pulled two sets of papers out of her saddlebag and slid them across the table to Celestia and Luna along with their coffee mugs. “Your transfer orders are ready. You two officially work for me until further notice.”
Celestia looked at the papers in front of her. She took a moment to read them, and couldn’t help but feel impressed. Anypony else probably would have taken days or even weeks to get personnel transfers wrangled through the administration process. It said something about Clover that she was able to make it happen in a matter of hours.
At the same time, though, it sent an anxious twist through Celestia’s stomach. Until this moment, all the events of yesterday—going to the Royal Palace, dreamwalking, being appropriated into the personal staff of a cardinal mage—felt like a fantasy, some kind of surreal joke being played on her.
“You’re serious about this,” she mumbled, eyes fixed on the orders. Staring down at the proof right there in black and white, the gravity of it hit her all at once in a way that was very real and very sobering.
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to the situation we find ourselves in. What I realize is that every time I look at a different facet of it, the timing only becomes more extraordinary. At exactly the moment the Unicorn Kingdom is about to start starving and freezing because farms are failing in an icy climate we’re slowly losing the struggle against, we’re shown a place that’s warm and filled with rich grasses and fertile land. Right at the moment when earth ponies would have their future taken away, we find a place where they would be able to prosper again. I don’t think it’s hard to infer what’s meant to happen.”
“We have to go south,” Celestia stated. “Just like Luna said.”
“Right.” Clover nodded. “And not just us. We need to take earth ponies with us. It has to be a colony, a whole resettlement, as many earth ponies as we can. All of them, if possible.”
The two sisters stared at Clover with wide eyes for a moment.
“That’s—” Celestia rolled one hoof slowly in the air, searching for words. “—very drastic, and, umm, not something me or my sister know much about. We’re not farmers, or explorers, or leaders, or any of the things it would take. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how we’re supposed to do something like that.”
“Nonetheless, you’re the ones who had the vision.” Clover shrugged. “I’ll be honest, I don't exactly know how this is supposed to work either, but I also don’t know what choice we have. I just know that this is the option we've had thrown in front of us. Either we take it, or we sit back and watch earth ponies, and then maybe unicorns, die out.”
Celestia sighed and slumped her withers. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“I know.” Clover smiled sardonically. “No pressure or anything.”
Celestia groaned and buried her face in her hooves. “Where are we even supposed to begin?”
“That’s a good question,” Clover said. “Actually, there are many good questions. I think I have an idea of which one we should start with.”
“Which is?”
“The first question is, are we even going to be allowed to try?” Clover said. “And I can already tell you the answer is ‘no.’ The Unicorn Kingdom would never let a significant number of ponies just leave their borders to start a new settlement outside of their control, even if it was their only choice between survival and extermination.”
“Then how are we supposed to move ponies south, if that’s what we have to do?” Celestia asked.
“That’s the part I’m stuck on, so far,” Clover said.
“What if it’s not a settlement outside of their control?” Luna suggested. “What if you ask them for support and make it a territory of the Kingdom? Isn’t that better for everypony?”
“I don’t actually think so, because it wouldn’t solve the underlying problem.” Clover shook her head. “The Kingdom would send military oversight to enforce their policies and maintain control. Earth ponies would still be nothing but tenant farmers on unicorn land. Besides, the Kingdom wouldn’t even want a new territory somewhere distant in the south. It would be seen as an expansionist move that would upset things with the Cloud Empire and tempt pegasus competition for new settlements, which would be too expensive to defend against, and too politically difficult to create enough support for. The princess and the noble houses would never let it happen. There’s not enough for them to gain even if everything goes right, and everything for them to lose if anything goes wrong.”
“So on one hoof, they won’t let us try on our own, and on the other, they won’t help and even if they did it would only make things worse,” Luna said. “There’s not a lot of options left if those two fairly broad avenues are both categorically eliminated.”
“Right, it leaves us with the options that don’t involve getting the Unicorn Kingdom’s permission,” Clover said. “Basically, either being sneaky or using force.”
“Can we be sneaky about it?” Celestia asked.
“We can’t.” Clover shook her head. “Believe me, that was my first thought, but when big swaths of earth pony village populations just start moving away and nopony’s left working the farms, that’s not something that can be hidden. Nor is all the logistical effort before a migration can even start, for that matter. Sneaky isn’t practical on this scale. Might as well try to hide a herd of tap-dancing elephants.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Celestia mumbled, feeling uneasy about where this was headed.
“All you leave us is force,” Luna said unhappily, stating what her sister was thinking. “How are we supposed to force the Unicorn Kingdom into letting us do something like this?”
“That would be the next logical question.” Clover shrugged. “I don’t suppose you girls have any highly advanced secret weapons or doomsday devices lying around, do you?” she asked sarcastically.
“Do we look like domestic terrorists?” Celestia responded sourly. “Of course we don’t have any weapons!” She felt the flush of angry warmth in her face, and heard her voice come out louder than she’d intended. Her heart was suddenly beating harder and she could feel hairs standing up on the back of her neck. In the moment of uncomfortable silence that followed, Clover stared at her and slowly raised one eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, Cardinal,” Celestia said, shrinking back down in her seat as she remembered her place. “It’s just that what you’re saying is… forgive me for being blunt, but…”
“It’s a little upsetting?” Clover suggested.
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “Exactly. Maybe more than just a little. What I think you’re asking us to do… well, I don’t know how else to take it.”
“It’s alright. Believe me, it is, because this should be upsetting.” Clover sighed. “It’s upsetting to me, too. I didn’t see things ever coming to this. I mean, my goodness, I personally work directly for the princess. I’m the last cardinal mage you’d ever think would be sitting in a house with a junior thaumite and an apprentice, thinking we’d have to plan rebellion against the Kingdom.” She looked back and forth between Luna and Celestia. “But here we are.”
Luna cleared her throat. “I have to be honest,” she said hesitantly. “I really wish we weren’t talking about this. It’s crazy to even discuss. I don’t know how it can end well for anypony.”
“I know, Luna.” Clover stared into her coffee mug. “But the alternative is letting things happen that are even crazier. I know it’s an insane response to an insane situation, but I’m desperate and I don’t know what else to do.”
“Do you really think there’s no other way?” Luna asked skeptically. “We’d never even met before yesterday. It’s a little fast to jump to this, don’t you think?”
“I understand your doubt,” Clover said. “From your perspective, you’re right, this must seem very sudden. But try to understand that there’s a lot that’s been kept from you and most other ponies. Please believe me, this isn’t a decision I just made in a day. The truth is, I should have tried to do something before now, but I’ve been too scared—”
Clover’s face took on a pained expression while she fidgeted with her coffee mug.
“—The truth is, this has been a long time coming,” she continued. “The problems with the climate and the way we’ve been dealing with earth ponies have been getting worse for years. Decades. Your sister can tell you. She spent months doing field research on it. The writing’s on the wall, Luna. Has been for a while. I’ve been trying desperately to ignore it, or find some way around it, but I admit now that’s been a big mistake. We’ve all got to start reading it, and fast.”
Luna looked at Celestia.
“It’s true.” Celestia nodded with a sad sigh. “I wish it wasn’t, but I see evidence piling up, and it doesn’t look like anything is about to just get better on its own. Seasons are getting colder. Farming is getting harder. The food surplus is going to run out, and that’s the point of no return. I think, once that happens, it’s just a death spiral from there, especially if the Unicorn Kingdom uses the crisis as an excuse to figure out how to generate artificial earth pony magic, and then uses that as an excuse to deem earth ponies unnecessary and begin exterminating them.”
“Alright.” Luna nodded. “But even so, we still don’t know how to run a colony, and we still don’t know how to make the Unicorn Kingdom let us. If it’s a matter of force, we don’t have it.”
“I agree,” Clover said. “It’s something we’ll need to find.”
“How?” Luna asked.
“When you want somepony to cooperate with you, it’s about either having something they fear, or something they want,” Clover said. “Maybe we should think about how other polities get the Unicorn Kingdom to come to agreements with them.”
“Usually it’s been about the balance of power to control the environment,” Celestia said. “The economic triangle made that happen. The sun and the moon are controlled by unicorns, the weather’s controlled by pegasi, and the land by earth ponies. It used to keep us, if not always totally friendly, at least working with each other.”
“Right, there’s that model.” Clover nodded.
“But obviously it’s been falling into power being concentrated in the unicorns, since the Unicorn Kingdom essentially owns the earth ponies and their farms now,” Celestia said. “I don’t know how we could ever create a power shift so huge it brings us into a position of being able to manage a mass exit of earth ponies against the Unicorn Kingdom wanting to keep control of them.”
“Yes, imagine us bending the entire Kingdom to our will. If we’re dreaming that big, why don’t we just grab the sun from the sky while we’re at it?” Luna grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Clover had been about to say something, but she lapsed into silence and stared curiously at Luna instead.
“That’s not very helpful, Luna,” Celestia scolded her.
“Sheesh, sorry,” Luna said. “I was only joking.”
“Well, we need real ideas, not jokes,” Celestia said. “Because to me, it seems pretty hopeless from here.”
Clover was still staring thoughtfully at Luna, slowly running one forehoof around in idle circles on the table. Suddenly her hoof stopped and her eyes went wide.
“Cardinal?” Celestia looked at her. “Are you alright?”
Clover responded slowly. “Celestia, would you stand up, please?” she asked.
Celestia stood, though she scrunched her muzzle slightly in confusion about the request.
“And you, Luna,” Clover continued.
Luna stood too, also looking unsure.
“Turn sideways,” Clover instructed them. “Let me see your cutie marks.”
Luna and Celestia looked at each other in puzzlement for a brief moment, but turned as Clover had asked, standing with Celestia’s blazing yellow sun over white coat next to Luna’s silvery crescent moon and black cloud over midnight blue.
“I must be losing my touch.” A smirk came over Clover’s face. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Think of what?” Celestia asked.
“The sun—” Clover pointed at Celestia. “—And the moon.” She pointed at Luna. “Luna, you’re a genius!” she proclaimed excitedly.
“I… am?” Luna tilted her head, looking dubiously at Clover.
“It’s so obvious!” Clover grinned and laughed. “I’ve been thinking about it all wrong. You two aren’t just a junior thaumite and an apprentice. You’re a solarite and a lunarite. Not just any solarite and lunarite, either, two of the most talented ones the Unicorn Kingdom has seen in generations, and a sibling team besides. No wonder you were the ones with the vision. It’s so crazy it might just work!”
“What might?” Celestia asked.
“Exactly what Luna said.” Clover’s grin widened. “We’re going to steal the sun.”
Luna stared at Clover, dumbfounded. “You, umm. You know I was joking, right?”
“Oh, but I’m not.” Clover shook her head. “We’re going to snatch it right out of the Kingdom’s hooves, right out of their sky. Or, you are, Celestia, when you’re ready. And I’m going to get you ready.”
“But the solar thaumocontroller and the solarites who work there control the sun,” Celestia protested. “Even if they didn’t, it’s still too big for just one pony. Moving the sun takes the thaumocontroller’s machinery and a dozen unicorns working together.”
“Bah. A dozen merely average mages and thaumites,” Clover waved a dismissive hoof. “Most of them aren’t wearing the sun for their cutie mark, though, are they?”
“No, but...”
“And we’ll deal with the thaumocontroller when the time comes,” Clover continued. “Don’t ask me how yet, but I have complete confidence that we’ll think of something.”
“What makes you so sure we’ll be able to do any of this?” Luna looked at Clover with a skeptical eye.
“Because, Luna, in my various adventures through life so far, I’ve found that you can do anything when your back is against the wall,” Clover proclaimed, lightly pounding one hoof on the table. “...Or you can just lie down and die, of course, but I hope we’re not opting for that route.”
“Well, if you’re really determined, it seems like you and my sister have a lot of challenges and a lot of work ahead of you,” Luna said.
“All three of us do,” Clover said, staring intently back at Luna.
“Me?” Luna recoiled, looking puzzled. “What about me?”
“What do you mean, what about you?” Clover was suddenly exasperated. “How else could this ridiculous idea possibly work?!” she exclaimed, waving her hooves as if it was obvious. “It wouldn’t do much good to take the sun without also taking the moon, now would it?”
“That’s... true, actually.” Celestia nodded slowly. “If we only controlled the sun, the Unicorn Kingdom could just keep it perpetually eclipsed with the moon. They’d still have complete veto power over everything as long as they’re the ones who can cut off the light, not to mention how important the moon is in regulating tidal forces on the planet and the lifecycles of living things. They could do a lot of damage with it out of spite.”
“Exactly.” Clover nodded. “You’re just as important, Luna. We can’t do it without you. So what do you say?”
“Oh no.” Luna turned to look at Celestia with pleading eyes. “What have I gotten us into?”
With a wry smile, Celestia put her front leg around Luna’s withers and pulled her close. “Whatever it is, dear sister, once again it looks like we’re in it together.”
Luna facehoofed and shook her head. “I should have just kept my big mouth shut,” she lamented.
“I spent most of yesterday after our discussion—” Clover looked back over her withers, surveying the small restaurant she and the two sisters were in. It was almost empty, except for two unicorns at another table. They looked preoccupied with each other, but even so, Clover’s horn glowed the same golden color as her eyes while she cast a spell that Celestia recognized as a soundproofing barrier.
“Better.” Clover nodded in satisfaction. “As I was saying, I spent yesterday reviewing the literature on magic concerning celestial objects. I didn’t find much of anything helpful for our specific purposes.”
“Neither did we.” Celestia shook her head and looked down at her lunch, a salad made with carrots and peapods. All the ingredients were fresh, despite the winter season. It struck Celestia as a bitter irony that the earth ponies who so skillfully grew these vegetables probably couldn’t afford the expensive hothouse luxuries themselves. “Luna and I both scoured our old books and notes from school and training, on top of searching the libraries we could get to, but everything focuses on thaumocontroller principles and operation, nothing about directly controlling stellar objects by horn. That really doesn’t seem to be taught anymore.”
“No, it isn’t.” Clover shook her head. “I did find some brief mentions in very old books that touch on the subject, but only in general terms and basic magical principles that should be obvious, especially to any unicorn who’s been through Thaumosciences training. I hardly needed to waste my time looking it up in a book to tell you about it.”
“Maybe we just need to keep looking further back in even older books,” Luna said. “There has to be something describing some of the useful details about how they did it, doesn’t there?”
“Well, there doesn’t have to be.” Clover shook her head. “All the unicorns with experience moving the sun and moon were very secretive in order to maintain their monopolies. They didn’t record much, with the exception of the calendars they were in charge of writing.”
“Old calendars are trivial to find, but just having those doesn’t tell us anything we actually need.” Celestia frowned.
“Right.” Clover nodded. “Unfortunately, long story short, it’s looking like we—and I’ll be honest, by which I mostly mean you two—get to do a lot of experimental reconstructing of the methods old cabals of sun and moon moving unicorns used. I’m very sorry there aren’t any shortcuts I can offer, but I don’t see any other way than trial-and-error.” Clover stroked her chin in thought for a moment. “And, umm, hopefully without so much error.”
“So all we have to do is rediscover a lost magical art, and then figure out how to do with just one unicorn what used to take a dozen.” Celestia sighed. “Of course. How hard can it be, really?”
“Have a little faith in yourself,” Clover chided her. “You and your sister have the cutie marks and certainly the affinity for it. If anypony can do it, it’s you. I know it.”
Celestia nodded silently. The thought of the task ahead was daunting, and she had no idea how to even start, but she couldn’t deny that there was also a certain excitement to it. Working with the sun during her time at the solar thaumocontroller had been satisfying, but it always felt distant through the convoluted machine, mere glimpses and tenuous caresses.
But now…
She was tantalized by what suddenly seemed to be at hoof: a chance to reach out and touch it directly, feeling the fiery embrace of the bright warm light flowing through her straight from the source. No filtering, no dilution, no artifice, just pure blissful power surging in her horn, like biting into fresh fruit and drinking the juice straight out of it…
“I wish I knew it.” The sound of weary pessimism in Luna’s voice doused some of Celestia’s fire, snapping her out of the daydream and back to reality.
“Now, don’t be that way. Once you start, I have a feeling that you’ll just… get it.” Clover shrugged. “Take it one day at a time and don’t get overwhelmed.”
“We can do this, Luna.” Celestia gently put one hoof over her sister’s. “We have to. We don’t have a choice.”
Luna took a deep breath, then lifted her chin and gave Celestia a brave little nod. “It’s just a little scary,” she said, with a thin smile. “I mean, I have no experience. I’m not even a real lunarite yet and I’m supposed to control the entire moon on my own?”
“I’ve never driven the sun on my own, either,” Celestia offered. “So it’s really no different, if that helps.”
“Ahh, well, everypony’s nervous about their first time, aren’t they?” Clover asked with a nonchalant shrug. “But I believe in the two of you.”
Celestia couldn’t think of anything more to say. The conversation died down while the three of them ate quietly for a few minutes.
Finally, Clover pushed her plate away. “Now, scheduling is going to be the key to doing this without being noticed,” she said. “We need to be very careful.”
Celestia immediately understood what Clover meant. “I’ll have to work at night,” she said. “During the day the solarites monitor the sun while they’re moving it. After it sets, though, they leave it in a safe parking orbit with no nopony really watching. That’s the only time I can reach out to manipulate it magically and not be easily detected.”
“Right.” Clover nodded.
“And the moon and lunar thaumocontroller are much the same,” Luna said. “So I’ll have to work during the day.”
“Exactly.” Clover was idly building a tower out of stray silverware on the table. “I know it’s an ironic reversal of the halves of the day you two will ultimately need to respectively manage, so there’ll be a switch at some point—assuming all goes well and we actually pull this off—but backwards and out of sight is the way it has to be, at least for now.”
“That also means that we’ll only be able to try to work with the sun and moon while they’re behind the far side of the planet, which could make things somewhat more difficult,” Celestia pointed out.
“I know.” Clover nodded. “And I don’t expect it to be easy or entirely without problems, especially at first. Even if you two only experiment with manipulating the sun and moon while they’re idling and unmonitored, it’s going to involve some very high energy magic with a major signature, and the thaumocontroller operators could easily become aware of residual discrepancies. As one more precaution in case they do notice anything, we should really work somewhere outside the city. I’m not sure where, though. We might need to do some scouting for a suitable location.” Clover leaned back and studied the little structure she’d built from utensils with an appraising eye. It vaguely resembled the solar thaumocontroller.
“Outside the city…” Celestia thought for a moment. “I might know a place, actually.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“You’re sure this pony is trustworthy?” Clover’s voice emanated quietly from what looked like empty air next to Celestia.
“As sure as I can be about anypony with a place that might suit the purpose,” Celestia replied, continuing to walk down a familiar rural road far outside Quartz City. “I’ve worked with her extensively during my climate and farming research. She knows me well enough. We’ve become friends.”
“Alright,” Clover assented. “If you say so, I’ll take your recommendation.”
Having a conversation with a disembodied voice struck Celestia as a little surreal. Then again, invisibility was surreal in a lot of ways. With the vague, fuzzy shape of her own muzzle in the bottom of her peripheral vision suddenly gone, for instance, she realized just how much she’d never really been conscious of it before. Likewise, looking down and being able to see her own hooves was something she’d always taken for granted, until she couldn’t. It made her paranoid about stepping on a rock the wrong way and twisting a fetlock or tearing a pastern.
The worst part, though, was a more abstractly uncomfortable sense that what they were doing was just wrong. Invisibility, while not particularly difficult to learn by reading the right books, wasn’t usually taught in magic schools or even in advanced Thaumosciences training. It was frowned upon by most unicorns as an antisocial use of magic, and as such, Celestia found that the stealth it offered paradoxically made her feel more exposed: the fact that they were hiding by using a technique considered to be the province of spies, gossips, and thieves only proved they were up to no good.
She wondered if maybe she should be heeding that feeling more carefully. Plotting to hijack celestial objects, after all, wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.
But then again, she reflected, neither that plan nor being invisible right now was her choice. Clover had insisted on minimizing their profile, so she’d instantly cast the spell on all three of them as soon as they teleported out of the city. “They call me clever, not wise,” she offered by way of an apology when Luna had asked if this was really necessary.
The trio of ponies walked on in silence for a few more minutes until Celestia stopped next to a wheat field. “This is it,” she said.
The other two sets of already barely audible hoofsteps stopped.
Celestia looked around. There were no other ponies visible on the road, or in the farmland surrounding them. “I think it would be best if we were visible before we approach,” she said. “Giving her a fright by suddenly appearing out of thin air wouldn’t be the way to start things off on the right hoof.”
“Hmm, I suppose not,” Clover’s voice agreed. A faint aura of magic suddenly flared in the air around the outline of a pony, filling it in as she became visible, wrapped in her forest green cloak against the cold.
Celestia unhid herself as well, reaching out with her horn to dispel the delicate shell of photon-displacing thaumofield she was surrounded by. It only took a slight poke: once it was disturbed, it dissipated in an instant, popping like a bubble. She looked down and noticed with relief that she was able to see her hooves again.
A second later, Luna followed suit, reappearing next to her sister in a midnight blue cloak that matched her coat.
They started walking through the rows of wheat, a dull tan forest of tall stalks and grassy leaves in the quiet, frosty morning. Celestia searched until she managed to find Winter Wheat in the distance tending to her crop. The earth pony was surprisingly well hidden in her old, thin cloak of coarse worn brown cloth.
Actually, Celestia realized Winter Wheat had spotted them first and was already heading their way by the time they saw her. Now that they were visible, she knew their bright white, forest green, and deep blue must have been very conspicuous, even at a distance through the plants. It seemed fitting, in a way. This colorful distinctiveness felt to her like an apt manifestation of just how much unicorns from the city were out of place here in the heart of remote farmlands.
“Hello, Miss Celestia!” Winter Wheat greeted her when she finally closed the distance. “I wasn’t expecting you today… or any other unicorn visitors, either.” She glanced nervously at Luna and Clover.
“Hello, Winter,” Celestia said. “I wasn’t expecting to be here myself, but something came up. I hope I’m not disturbing your work.”
“No, it’s… it’s alright,” Winter Wheat said, hesitantly. “There’s not really much I can do, anyway, at this time of year. The real growing season doesn’t start again ‘til spring. Wheat’s dormant ‘til then, you know. I’m mostly just keeping an eye on it for now. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Actually, yes.” Celestia nodded. “If you can spare a few minutes, I’d really like to ask for your help with something, if that’s okay.”
“I suppose it is,” Winter Wheat said. She glanced past Celestia again, curiously studying Clover and Luna.
“Oh!” Celestia suddenly felt sheepish as she realized she was being impolite. “I’m sorry, Winter Wheat. This is Cardinal Clover—Clover the Clever, as she’s called—and my sister, Luna,” she hastily introduced her companions. “They both work for the Thaumosciences Authority, like me. We’re, uhh…” she cleared her throat. “…we’re actually all on the same project, at the moment. It’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“It’s nice to meet you, ladies.” Winter Wheat bowed politely for a moment, careful to show the usual deference expected of earth ponies to unicorns. “Why don’t you all come inside for a bit? I could use a break from the cold about now, anyway. It’s been getting bad lately.”
You have no idea…
Celestia shoved aside the grim thought. “Thank you,” she said instead. “A chance to warm up would be appreciated.”
Winter Wheat turned and walked over to her small farmhouse, with the three unicorns following her. She opened the door and let them in.
Once they were inside, she threw a few more sticks in her fireplace, stoking up a small blaze that spread pleasant warmth and made the house feel cozy. Celestia took off her phoenix feather lined cloak, enjoying the heat and faint scent of wood smoke mingling with dried herbs.
Winter Wheat brought out a pot of coffee and, with the offer of a hot drink as a lure, herded all three unicorns to the table.
“So, Miss Celestia, what was it you wanted to ask me?” she inquired once they were all gathered.
“Well, my sister and I are going to be performing some very sensitive experiments,” Celestia began. “We need to maintain a certain level of isolation. In fact, we’d like to do our work completely outside the city, and we don’t have a lot of time to do it in. It would be a huge help if we could just stay in one place while we concentrate on our task. So, I was really hoping, and I understand if this might be too much to ask or if you’re not comfortable with it, but, if you happen to have a spare room, or really any extra space we could stay in… we could pay you a generous rent for it.”
Winter Wheat almost dropped the coffee pot. “You want to stay here?” she asked, staring at Celestia with an incredulous look.
“My sister and I would, yes.” Celestia nodded. “Temporarily, while we get our work completed.”
“Welllll…” Winter Wheat rolled her eyes in thought. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me, exactly, and if you’re offering to rent, goodness knows how much I could always use extra bits. But it’s just that I’ve never really known any unicorns to live out on a farm, especially roughing it in a place like this. Are you sure you’d be comfortable? There’s not much in the way of conveniences… or even privacy, really. It’s a pretty small house, as I’m sure you can see.”
“We wouldn’t mind,” Celestia said. “Our house in the city isn’t all that big, either.”
“If you’re sure.” Winter Wheat shrugged. “I guess I have the extra storage room in back that I could clear out. It’s big enough for two ponies, if you’re the kind of sisters who can deal with sharing a room.”
“I think we are.” Celestia turned to Luna. “We shared a room when we were fillies, and it wasn’t too bad, right?”
“Well, you did complain about it constantly,” Luna reminded her.
“It was a long time ago,” Celestia said. “We’ve been able to share a house without any difficulty since then.”
“Yes, where we don’t have to sleep in the same room.”
“Is something the matter?” Celestia asked. “Do you not want to share?”
“I’m alright with it, I just want to make sure we don’t step on each other’s hooves,” Luna replied. “You know there’s nothing I hate more than when we fight.”
“I don’t like fighting with you, either, but it doesn’t—”
“Then don’t fight,” Clover interrupted them, rolling her eyes. “You’ll be on opposite sleep schedules anyway, won’t you? One of you will have the room to yourself to sleep in while the other is awake, so what’s the problem?” She glared at them.
“Ummm…” Celestia felt cowed under Clover’s stare. “…No problem with that, I suppose.”
Clover’s stare shifted to Luna.
Luna withered slightly under Clover’s irritated gaze. “Yes, that should work.” She nodded quickly.
Both sisters turned to look at Winter Wheat. “Sharing is fine,” they said in unison.
“Alright.” Winter Wheat nodded. “Then… when were you wanting to move in?”
Clover spoke up immediately. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Winter Wheat blinked. “Seems a little fast.”
“Well, there isn’t much equipment called for to get started on these experiments, and these two won’t need to pack all that much.” Clover glanced at the two sisters. “Will you?”
They both shook their heads no, although Celestia felt just as surprised as Luna and Winter Wheat looked.
“And we can stay to help clear out that storage room now, if you like.” Clover turned back to Winter Wheat. “I wouldn’t dream of making you do the hard work, of course. Just direct us where you want everything, and between the three of us and a little magic, we should be able to get the heavy lifting done in no time. Oh, but first things first, I suppose.” Clover pulled out a substantial pile of bits, mostly in high-denomination coins, from one of her saddlebags. She counted some out, setting them neatly on the table in two equal stacks. “First month’s rent, along with another month in advance. Is this enough? We could go a little higher, if you need more.”
Winter Wheat’s eyes opened wide, fixed on the heap of coins for several seconds. “No, that’s… ummm, it’s very generous as it is,” she finally said. “If you’re really in that kind of a hurry, I guess I can accommodate.”
“Wonderful!” Clover beamed while she sipped her coffee. “Then it’s settled. Let’s get to work, girls.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“Heading out again?”
Celestia nodded in response to Winter’s question. It was just after sunset, and she was in fact about to exit the little farmhouse to get started for the night, just like she had every day that week.
“Are you sure the woodshed is where you really want to work?” Winter Wheat asked. “You and your sister are welcome to use the house, if you prefer. At the very least, it must be warmer in here.”
“No, that’s alright.” Celestia shook her head. “I’ve thought about it, and I know it must seem like a strange place for magical experiments, but out in the shed is really for the best. It’s cold, but there’s enough shelter not to be terribly uncomfortable. More importantly, there’s nothing valuable to break in case of a high-energy magical accident.”
And hiding out there away from prying eyes keeps you or anypony else from figuring out what kind of trouble we’re getting ourselves into…
“Alright.” Winter Wheat nodded in a slow, thoughtful way that told Celestia she wasn’t quite buying it but also wasn’t going to question it. “Well, you’ve been using it every night since you moved in, so I guess it must be good enough.”
“It may not be a state-of-the-art Thaumosciences lab.” Celestia smiled slightly. “But as woodsheds go, it’s excellent.”
Winter Wheat seemed unmoved by the compliment. “So, your experiments are going well, then?”
“They’re…” Celestia thought about it. Noticeable results were starting to materialize from her efforts: after long hours of focusing on the sun, an awareness of its magical emanations was growing steadily more keen in her mind. She could always feel it now, always there, always blazing in space…
…But also so impossibly far away.
“…They’re coming along,” she concluded.
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia’s eyes closed while she concentrated. It was just after midnight, and the source of the power that called to her in faint whispers was almost directly beneath her hooves. The planet that was inconveniently in the way acted like an obscuring veil, but the sun was strong and magic permeated mundane matter easily; she could still feel it even through the many kilometers of rocky mantle and molten metal core of Equus.
She tried to reach out to the solar orb, but found herself, as she had every time so far, falling woefully short no matter how hard she struggled. Her horn glowed with an intense rose-colored light, coming through her closed eyelids in a dull red that she was only just barely conscious of while she exerted herself with all the intensity she could muster.
It wasn’t enough, not even close.
The impossibly distant sphere of blazing energy was simultaneously so huge and so far out of reach that both defied comprehension. Feeling smaller than a grain of sand, and just as helpless, she exhaled and let the glow fade while she relaxed for a moment.
How could anypony have ever possibly done this?!
She snorted and stomped a hoof in frustration at the sense of futility. She’d never thought that accomplishing nothing could be such hard work. Sweat matted her coat, despite the cold winter’s night. Her head ached and her horn was filled with the dull, throbbing pain of repeated magical overexertion. It was getting to be a familiar feeling lately.
Still, she reminded herself, there was nothing else to do but keep trying.
After thirty seconds of rest, Celestia squeezed her eyes shut once more. Clenching her jaw, she reached out again, her horn flaring with light. It blazed brighter and brighter until the rosy glow became harsh and actinic, filling the inside of Winter Wheat’s shed with intense illumination and cutting hard, sharp shadows. If she’d been focusing this much magical energy on telekinesis, it would have been enough to easily lift several hundred kilograms. She was sure of that. She’d tested her limits before, and very few unicorns were as strong as she was. If anypony had a realistic shot at this, it should have been her.
But it just didn’t matter. There was no crossing that immense distance. All the magical strength she had felt like a single tiny drop lost in the mind-numbingly vast ocean of space.
She tried tightening the thaumofield, pressing it inward to a narrow beam, aiming more for finesse than raw power. It grew focused into a more refined shape, becoming conical, then tapering down to a thread that emanated outward as far as she could reach. She stretched it, pushing farther and farther with the single filament. As it lengthened, it began to take all her effort to maintain, and even at a tiny width, the cumulative power demand was growing too fast.
Her muscles quivered with involuntary strain, tendons tense like steel wires under her skin while she gave everything she had. She scrabbled and flailed desperately with her mind and her magic for some sort of contact, some connection, anything to link up somehow to the vast waves of energy that roiled and radiated from the white-hot sphere of the sun.
One minute went by, then another. She pushed and struggled. Nothing happened. Another few seconds crawled along, each one feeling slower and more agonizing than the last.
With a quiet, choked cry, she finally gave out from exhaustion. Her magical output faltered and broke, and the light from her horn went dark. Her legs crumpled underneath her and she sank to her belly on the shed’s straw-covered dirt floor.
Sweat ran down her neck and sides in heavy drops. Her forehead felt like it had been split open with an axe where her horn met her skull, while sharp stabs pulsed from behind her closed eyes. Her entire head was a mass of dull, aching agony that extended down her spine through her neck and back. Burning soreness heated the muscles of her legs and flanks. For the next few minutes, every part of her felt too heavy to move, so she simply laid her head down and cried, letting silent tears of pain and frustration roll down her cheeks.
These nights were so frustrating. It felt so unfair. She finally had her chance to work with the sun—her purpose, the opportunity she longed for deep down in her heart of hearts—and now that it was here, she couldn’t get anywhere, no matter how hard she tried. How was she supposed to do this? Why was it so hopelessly out of reach?
After a little while, she became aware that she was cooling down, the frigid night air biting her with icy fangs through her still-damp coat. Slowly, she got back up on shaky legs. While she waited for them to steady, she wiped the tears from her face, embarrassed by them even with nopony else around to see, and tried to settle and recover a bit from her exertion by taking a deep drink from a pitcher of water she’d brought out to the shed with her at the start of the night. She knew she’d need all of it, and probably more, the way things were going. The last week filled with similar trials had already taught her that.
Bracing herself and taking a deep breath, she prepared to try again, trying not to flinch in anticipation of the pain.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot.
☙ ☀ ❧
“Luna?” Celestia’s voice was soft while she gently shook her sister’s withers. “Luna, wake up.”
Luna’s response was to stir under the blankets and let out a quiet, plaintive moan. After a few seconds, her eyes slowly started to open.
“Already?” Her voice was scratchy from sleep.
“It’s sunrise,” Celestia said.
“Alright.” Luna yawned and pushed her blanket down. “I’m up.” She rose with an effort and stood next to her small bed, just a straw-stuffed mattress covered with several wool blankets. Celestia’s bed, on the other side of the room, was similar. They left much to be desired, but these were all Winter Wheat had happened to have on hoof for them to use.
Luna’s eyes, half-lidded, blinked heavily a few times while she stood unmoving, still trying to wake up. Her mane was a complete mess. Celestia reflexively grabbed a hairbrush, lifting it with her magic, and almost started brushing her sister’s tangled bed-head.
The brush stopped, hovering inches away from Luna’s mane. Celestia hesitated. She couldn’t close the distance. There was something strange and uncomfortable about it. She hadn’t brushed her sister’s hair in a long time, not since they were small fillies… but… no, that wasn’t it, not by itself. It was more… Luna was here in the same room, but it was like she was miles away. She didn’t feel close by anymore. Not lately, not since…
Not since…
Celestia set the brush down and looked away awkwardly.
“Celestia?”
Celestia glanced at Luna. There was a question in her sister’s eyes, worry on her face. It was clear that she wanted to say something.
“What?” Celestia’s voice was flat and neutral.
Luna was silent for a long, dragging moment.
“…Nevermind.” She turned and walked out to face her day shift of struggling with the moon, leaving a heavy, tense silence filling their small shared bedroom. It haunted Celestia, gnawing at the edges of her mind and setting her tossing and turning while she tried to sleep through the already too short winter’s day.
The silence she was left alone with felt like a lash, one that stung more with each passing morning. Too many mornings in a row had started like this. Celestia didn’t like it. It was beginning to feel just as bad as the burn in her sore muscles and the ache in her overstressed horn.
☙ ☀ ❧
Two weeks, Celestia’s internal voice groused.
Two weeks of working her tail off, and she was no closer to getting anywhere. It was all Celestia could think about, filling her with a mix of frustrated anger and despair as she entered the farmhouse a little before dawn. An impulse from somewhere in the worst, most basal corner of her mind tempted her to slam the door behind herself in an expression of rage.
It would feel good, wouldn’t it? Just let some of it out.
But the better part of herself stopped and hesitated.
The thought of a telekinetic outburst with as much power behind it as she was prone to generating lately was frightening. The door wasn’t hers, and, while it was well enough made, it was just a simple thing not built to withstand such severe forces. If she really decided to throw a tantrum, she knew it would be much too easy to end up ripping it right off the hinges or breaking it into splinters.
No, the last thing she needed to compound her stress with was getting thrown out for damaging property. Instead, keeping herself in check, she erred in the opposite direction. She was gentle, using a soft careful touch while she closed the door slowly, pushing it until it latched with an almost inaudible click.
Nonetheless, in her mood, petulance had a certain savor and the restraint she showed with the door didn’t stop her from breathing a string of barely whispered curse words while she swept her frazzled, sweaty mane back out of her face.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Winter Wheat said from behind her.
Celestia startled. She quickly turned to see the farmer watching her from the kitchen. “Oh! I didn’t know you were even awake,” she said. “Yes, good morning. Almost, anyway. The sun’s not quite up yet.”
“No, I guess it’s not,” Winter Wheat agreed. “But this is going to be one of my longer days and I need an early start. So I’m up.”
“I see.” Celestia nodded. She started walking towards the room she shared with Luna.
“Hey.” Winter Wheat trotted ahead of Celestia and stopped, blocking her path. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, of course.” Celestia paused and waited.
“Is everything alright?”
“…What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you sure that you and your sister are really comfortable here?” Winter Wheat asked. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I— I think we’re okay.” Celestia shook her head. “Why?”
“It’s just, you’ve been here for a while now, and both of you always look so wiped out, and sometimes you seem pretty upset,” Winter Wheat said, concern coming through clearly in her voice. “I can’t help wondering if you’re getting enough rest, or if you’re too stressed, or if something else is wrong. Is there anything I could help with?”
“No. I… just… our work is demanding, that’s all.” Celestia smiled at Winter Wheat, putting what she knew was a paper-thin mask over her fatigue and pain and hoping it was enough. “But there’s really no way around it, I’m afraid. We just have to keep going. We’re so short on time.”
“I understand.” Winter Wheat smiled back. “I know what it’s like to put in long days of hard work. I made coffee, speaking of which. There’s plenty for Luna. I’ve noticed that she seems to go through a lot of it. That’s okay, though,” she added quickly. “Easier to afford it now with some rent money coming in.”
Celestia nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful.” During the silence that followed, exhaustion hit her harder than ever, suddenly washing through her down to the marrow of her bones. She wanted nothing but to collapse into bed. “Excuse me.” She resumed walking toward the shared room again. “I have to go make sure she’s up. Another tough day ahead for her, I think.” Celestia paused. “It certainly already has been for me.”
The worst thing about it was knowing that the hardest part, facing that uneasy leaden silence, was about to be upon her once again.
Trying to put the conversation with Winter Wheat behind her was working about as well as Celestia's recent attempts to control the sun on her own, and for much the same reasons: Deceit didn’t sit well with her, whether it was lying to the pleasant earth pony by not telling her about her potential fate, or to herself by thinking that one lone solarite had a chance in a million of actually moving the sun on her own. After all her frustration, it only seemed more out of reach than ever, no matter how hard she tried.
And for all that, there was still something worse. Gaining a grasp on the sun wasn’t the only thing she felt she was failing at. The proverbial saddle on her back only became heavier as Celestia opened the door to the storage-turned-bedroom, then slipped inside and prepared to wake her sister.
“Lu—”
The words died in her throat when she saw that Luna’s eyes were already open.
“Oh.” Celestia paused, stopping in mid-stride with one hoof still in the air. “You’re awake.”
Luna just barely nodded. She was laying on her back, staring up at the wooden ceiling with her eyes fixed in an empty gaze. The only movement was the blanket that covered her, rising and falling just slightly with each slow, shallow breath.
“It’s sunrise,” Celestia continued. She glanced to the east, turning her head to follow the direction she sensed by the sun’s magic in her horn, but there was nothing to see. Thick dark curtains—a necessity for trying to sleep in the daytime—covered the room’s windows.
“I know,” Luna replied quietly. “I can feel the sun and the moon’s magic. I always know where they are now.”
“Oh, you do?” Celestia asked. “That’s good. I do too. I… suppose it means… we’re making… progress…” She gave up, realizing her stilted words were just becoming forced awkward noise to fill the silence she dreaded.
“How long?” Luna finally asked, after the silence had grown uncomfortable.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been able to feel them? The sun and moon?”
“About a week, I suppose,” Celestia said. “What about you?”
“About the same,” Luna said, eyes still fixed upward.
“Oh.” Celestia waited. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat. “It’s not easy, though, is it? I’m afraid I haven’t gotten much further than just—”
“Why haven’t we talked about it?” Luna asked suddenly.
“What?”
“I mean, it’s why we’re here,” Luna continued. “It’s literally the most important thing in the world right now. So why haven’t we said anything to each other about whether or not we’re getting anywhere?”
“I—” Celestia stammered. “I suppose we just haven’t been talking much in general, lately. We’re on different schedules, we’ve been given a difficult task, and I know we’re both always tired…”
“No.” Luna finally moved, rolling under her blankets to face Celestia and lock eyes with her. “None of that’s really it, is it?”
Celestia opened her mouth. Nothing came out of her paralyzed throat. The terrible invisible wall, the distance that lay between them, stripped the words from her mind before she even knew what they might have been.
She felt like a coward and hated herself for not being able to say anything.
“We need to talk, Celestia. Please.” Luna’s voice carried a note of desperation while she lifted herself to sit, slumping weakly on her bed. “I know there are things we don’t want to deal with, but ignoring this isn’t any easier. Not for me.”
Celestia was hit suddenly by the way Luna looked more dead-exhausted than anypony she’d ever seen before. The symptoms of her sister's fatigue had crept up on her, one saggy eyelid or drooping ear at a time, but now that she could get a good look at her sister, the full effect hit all at once and she was dismayed at what she saw. Luna's mane was stringy and tangled, and her eyes were bloodshot, their sockets dark-circled and puffy. The sudden realization of how her sister must be suffering struck her like a slap on the face. A lead weight of stinging guilt started sinking through her body.
Seconds passed, seeming like hours before the sick feeling in her stomach finally became thick enough to smother her cowardice and force her into action.
“You’re right,” Celestia choked out the words. “There’s something wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, we can’t keep going on like this, because I can’t take it,” Luna said. “I can’t. It has to stop, one way or another. And I don’t know any other way than to just… say what I have to, and deal with however that turns out.”
“Alright.” Celestia nodded. She waited, trying to brace herself for a conversation she didn’t want, but needed more than anything to finally have.
“So… I guess what I need to say is… I’m sorry,” Luna said in a low voice. “I’m not strong enough, and I’m sorry. I can’t—” She drew in a sharp breath and her jaw quivered, resisting her efforts to continue.
Celestia lifted one forehoof and took a single step closer, hesitant and uncertain. “Luna, I—”
Luna raised a hoof and shook her hanging head, stopping Celestia. “I’m attracted to mares, and I can’t change that.” She forced the words out, blurting them quickly. Her voice hitched and cracked. “I’ve tried and tried, over and over, and I know it’s wrong and disgusting and I’m not supposed to be this way but I don’t know how to be any different.”
Luna swallowed and took a deep breath, steadying her voice. “I hoped I could just… I don’t know. Hide it. Bury it forever, before anypony knew. But you saw the dream and there’s no way you can’t know now, so we might as well stop pretending. I don’t want us to keep ignoring it like this. I’d rather you just told me the truth about how sick and broken I am, because not talking hurts even more.”
After another half-second of standing frozen, Celestia jolted into motion like she’d been stung on the flank by a wasp, crossing the room on quick hoofsteps she barely even knew she was taking. As soon as she closed the distance, she threw up her forelegs, drawing Luna into a hug.
Luna went limp, collapsing into her sister’s embrace under a mess of dirty cornflower blue mane. “I’m not strong enough,” she said, breaking into hitching sobs. “It’s wrong and I know ponies like me need to be cured, but I just can’t do it.”
“Shhhh.” Celestia held her tight and rocked her back and forth in a slow rhythm. “Luna…”
Celestia felt Luna’s whole body go tense and knew that her sister was anticipating the worst. She nestled her head against Luna’s neck and rubbed her back, trying to calm her. “It’s alright,” she said slowly. “It’s alright. I don’t care about that.”
“W— What?” Luna sounded confused. “How could you not care? There’s something wrong with me. Everypony hates ponies like me.”
“Luna, no. I don’t hate you,” Celestia said softly, shaking her head. “You’re my little sister. I love you. Do you think whether or not you like mares really changes that?”
“But, if that’s not it, then… what has this all been about?” Luna asked. “Why haven’t we been able talk anymore?”
“Because— because it’s my fault we haven’t,” Celestia said.
“Your fault? I’m the one who dreamed about—”
“Yes, I saw it, and yes, it was uncomfortable, but not just because there was a mare,” Celestia said. “It was because I was right there watching my own sister’s erotic fantasy. What if you had to be there seeing me in a dream about enjoying… private time… with a stallion? Sharing those kinds of… excited feelings, in front of an audience? Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?”
Luna cringed, then nodded. “Mortified.”
“See? It’s no different,” Celestia said. “Listen to me, Luna. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, or with the dream you had. Everypony has dreams like that sometimes, but nopony is used to seeing those private moments when they belong to somepony else, especially their own relatives.” She paused and sighed with a heaving breath. “The truth is, I just didn’t know how to look at you, or how you’d look at me, after accidentally sharing something so personal. I was scared and embarrassed and I let it strain things between us because I made too much out of nothing. I’m sorry. I hate it as much as you, and I don’t want things to be like that anymore, either. I just— I just didn’t know how to handle it. And because of that I let you down. Can you forgive me?”
Luna nodded vigorously and wrapped her forelegs around Celestia, squeezing her tight. For the next few minutes, they held each other. Celestia felt the distance between them evaporate and enjoyed soaking in the presence of her sister again, a warm fire of companionship to finally drive back the freezing night of solitude that had frostbitten them for too long.
After a while, Luna had calmed, her breathing slow and steady and the tension and hitches that threatened tears faded away. “Do you feel better now?” Celestia asked.
“Relieved,” Luna said, with a sigh and a tiny laugh. “Like my chest isn’t being crushed in a vice anymore.”
“You know I’d never do that to you,” Celestia whispered.
“I know,” Luna whispered back, with a quick nod.
After another long quiet moment, Celestia smiled. “Who was she, anyway?”
Luna’s eyes widened slightly in momentary surprise. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “You’re right, we need to be able to talk again. So let’s talk.”
“Her name was Fire Opal,” Luna said. “She was in my class at Basic Magic School when I started Thaumosciences training.”
“And did she really look as good as what we saw?”
“Wellll… maybe not quite so perfect.” Luna cleared her throat and took on a weak smirk. “There may have been some idealizing going on in my imagination. It’s hard to help it.”
“A crush has a way of doing that.” Celestia smirked back. “But that’s alright. It’s your dream, so why not make it a good one?”
“A good point. But still.” Luna’s smiled faded, replaced with wariness. “You’re really not upset about this?”
“Luna, I think everypony knows the reality—that there are mares out there who like other mares. Stallions who like stallions.” Celestia shrugged. “And a lot who like both, to some degree or another. The Unicorn Kingdom says they shouldn’t, but they do and it’s just the way it is. It always has been. I don’t want to hate you for that.”
“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” Luna said. “It’s just so difficult when all I’ve ever heard is how wrong it is.”
“Yes, and that’s what I’m most worried about.” Celestia sighed. “Are you going to be okay with who you are?”
“I don’t know,” Luna admitted, hanging her head. “I guess I really haven’t been, so far. I’ve always felt alone, like I’m the only one. Like all those signs about getting cured are pointed right at me. Right now I’m still just in shock that telling you didn’t go as badly as I was scared it would. I just assumed you’d be completely disappointed with me.”
“To be totally honest, maybe in some ways, part of me does have trouble with it. It’s hard not to be affected by what I’ve been told all my life.” Celestia stared at the floor. “But, at the same time, in a lot of other ways, I’m not sure what to believe anymore. I’ve had to do a lot of thinking lately about all the things the Unicorn Kingdom has always told us. I wanted to hope that they had good intentions, and that they mostly tried to do what was right. I never wanted to think they might do bad things. But look at where we are.”
“Anypony would have to admit, it’s not looking good.” Luna nodded.
“Clover was right,” Celestia said. “This really has been a long time coming. Ever since I was taken off the sun control team, I’ve felt hollow. I belonged there, Luna. I had a purpose. The sun is what I was meant for. I trusted the Unicorn Kingdom to respect that and do the right thing in exchange for me doing my best with my talents. I see now how one-sided that was. When they took it away and sent me to do field research so that Star Fire could have her horrible project, they stripped the meaning from my life and never once cared how much it hurt.”
“I know.” Luna nodded. “I saw how hard it was on you. I hoped every day that they’d send you back to sun control. But I see this is how it has to happen instead.”
“Exactly.” Celestia stomped a hoof and her voice took on a hard edge. “And if they so blatantly disregard the natural way of things—denying ponies their place in the world, trying to engineer ways for unicorns to steal earth pony magic, stealing their foals, robbing the future—then what right could they possibly have to try to tell you that the way you are is wrong for being something they proclaim ‘unnatural?’ Why should we care what they think? What they say you should be? Why should we believe them anymore when all they do is hurt us?”
Luna sat with downcast eyes and a troubled look on her face, saying nothing.
Celestia fumed for a few more seconds, but her anger finally softened and dissolved away into concern when she looked at her sister’s tired face. “How long have you been awake, anyway?”
Luna looked up. “I’m fine,” she mumbled in a defiant tone.
“Luna.” Celestia gave her a skeptical look.
“Alright, most of the night,” she admitted with a huff. “But so what? There’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s my turn to work soon.”
“Or you could go back to bed and get some sleep,” Celestia said. “I’d really prefer if you did. Pardon my saying so, but you look like Tartarus.”
“But what about Cardinal Clover?” Luna persisted. “She—”
“Trust me, there will be a conversation with Clover. But later. I think it’s time we started making some of our own decisions, for a change,” Celestia said firmly, “and I’ve decided we can afford a day off.”
Luna still didn’t move.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed, becoming stern but not unkind. “Bed,” she ordered, pointing with one hoof. “Now.”
Despite a weak grumble of protest and a reproachful glance, Luna conceded to the command, getting back on her straw mattress and pulling her blankets up over her body.
Celestia looked over at her own side of the room. She hesitated. Although she was more than ready to get some sleep herself, the distance of barely a couple meters suddenly seemed dismal. It felt like it would be a long, lonely walk, and knowing that the bed waiting over there would just be ice cold was utterly unappealing.
After taking a moment and silently considering her options, she decided there was a much better choice. She crawled in with Luna instead, sliding under the blankets quickly to conserve warmth. Settling in, she wrapped her forelegs around Luna’s barrel, the way she used to years ago when they were fillies and her little sister needed protecting from monsters lurking in the dark, scary night.
Luna yawned and smiled while she nestled herself closer. Together, their eyes drifted shut easily and they both slept more soundly than they had in weeks.
☙ ☀ ❧
Early the next morning, Celestia was awake and waiting when the knock on the door she was anticipating finally came. She answered quickly, flinging it open to reveal a startled looking Clover standing on the other side in the pre-sunrise darkness.
“Good morning,” Celestia greeted her. “Thank you for coming at this hour.”
“Certainly.” Clover yawned. “A little on the early side, but avoiding attention is a good precaution. The note you teleported to me yesterday said it was urgent?”
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “I hate to bring you all the way out here, but we need to talk.”
“Hmmm? What about?” Clover asked, peering at Celestia curiously with her gold eyes.
“Not here.” Celestia looked backwards over her withers, making sure the house was empty and no one else was listening, then pointed across the yard. “Out in the shed, if we could. Please.”
“Umm, alright. Fine.” Clover looked a little nonplussed, but turned and started walking. Celestia followed her, in a slow, deliberate march across the frozen yard. When they arrived, she opened the door, waited for Clover to enter, and then followed her in.
Clover waited until the door was shut behind them. “Now, what is this about?”
Celestia rounded on her. “This is about Luna.” A low fire suddenly filled her voice. “I don’t think you understand how badly she’s been hurt.”
“Hurt?” Clover asked, becoming visibly tense. “How? What happened?”
“What you did to her,” Celestia said. “You tore her most private dreams out into the open, exposed her deepest secrets, humiliated her, then waved it off like it was nothing. Like it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, come on, this again?” Clover rolled her eyes. “Well, it shouldn’t matter! She must know perfectly well that I don’t think any less of her for—”
“She does NOT ‘know perfectly well.’” Celestia insisted, raising her voice a notch. “And you can’t seriously think so, not when you know perfectly well what the Unicorn Kingdom says about… about those kinds of… you know. That they’re sick and need to be stomped out.”
“But that’s not what I think,” Clover protested. “I never said that.”
“You never said otherwise, either,” Celestia said. “The most you ever did was just try to sweep it under the rug because it was inconvenient to deal with. And I understand why, because maybe it is uncomfortable and maybe it really isn’t your business, but… but I can’t let it hurt Luna like this anymore, because it hurts me, too. We couldn’t even talk to each other for most of the last two weeks. I was too frightened to face the embarrassment, and she was scared to death that I would hate her because of what I saw. That wedge tore us apart. I nearly lost my own sister! Do you understand? Do you realize how painful it is, what you did to us?”
“I’m sorry.” Clover’s face fell. “I had no idea.”
“No, I know you didn’t.” Celestia’s voice softened as she continued. “I don’t think it’s entirely your fault, but the fact is, you’re a pony with a lot of authority over us. And I think my sister and I have read certain things into your position because that’s what we’re used to.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, you represent how things work in the Unicorn Kingdom—including the problems that come with it,” Celestia said. “My sister and I aren’t high ranking mages. We’re used to being subordinate, and I think you’re used to having subordinates to do whatever you want with. It’s hard to think or act differently when a certain way is all any of us have ever known. Ponies go back to what they’re familiar with, even when it’s not necessarily good for them. But I realize now, we’d be a lot better off if we learned not to do that to ourselves or anypony else anymore.”
“So what are you saying?” Clover asked. “That you don’t want to do this? You don’t want to work with me?”
“Not quite.” Celestia shook her head. “What I’m saying is, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… and it hurt me and Luna, but it’s also bigger than just that. The real problem underneath it is that it shows how we think we’re trying to change things, but the truth is, nothing will be different if we’re not different. This is exactly the way we’ve always been treated by the Unicorn Kingdom. We—me, and Luna, and everypony—it’s like we’re not even real. Like we don’t matter.”
“You feel marginalized.” Clover nodded. “Alright. I can certainly see that. I only wish you’d said something before.”
“Say something?! That’s just it!” Celestia laughed bitterly. “The problem is that this system is so deeply ingrained in us that I’m terrified right now to speak to you this way. A junior thaumite can’t just say this kind of thing to a cardinal mage.”
Celestia started pacing back and forth along the stacks of firewood, getting agitated. “But it’s true, and it needs to be said. Yes, we’ve been marginalized. We have been from the start, ever since you saw my report and tracked us down. You didn’t ask for our help, you just used your rank to rip us out of our lives and commandeer us. You dragged us through a dreamwalk that humiliated us. You decided on the plan to take the sun. You pushed us into moving out here into this farm to start working for you as quickly as possible. Me and my sister… everything just… rushes by around us, and we can’t say no. Both of us are scared witless about what this is going to cost us and how badly this could end, but we’ve never once had any real choices about anything. Luna and I are nothing but tools being used to make your plan happen. Aren’t we?”
Celestia stared at Clover, waiting for an answer.
“Well, that’s not what I— I mean, it’s complica—” Clover snapped her mouth shut and sat down. She stared at the dirt floor, scuffing one forehoof back and forth, scowling.
Celestia just kept waiting through the silence.
“Darn it, you’re right,” Clover finally conceded, standing up. “There’s no real argument. You are right. I’m so used to the way things are, I never quite saw it, but I’m forced to admit – yes, it’s a problem. I…” she laughed sardonically. “I’m no better than Star Fire, am I? Your question really cuts to the heart of things. How can we ever make things better if we’re not any better ourselves?”
“We can’t.” Celestia shook her head. “There’s no point in doing this at all if it’s just going to end up being more of the same. Ponies will still be cemented in their strata: unicorns will still be tyrants, earth ponies will still be slaves. The same problems that are bringing us to ruin in the north will just come south. You said that yourself.”
“Well.” Clover rubbed her chin. “Only one answer, then. Something different has to begin here, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. I promise to treat you fairly from now on. What can I do to make things better?”
“You can start with Luna,” Celestia said. She walked to the door of the shed and stood to the side while she held it open, looking toward the farmhouse. “Because to her, you’re the one with the authority. She needs to hear it from you.”
Clover nodded slowly, then started walking back to the house.
☙ ☀ ❧
Clover and Celestia waited outside the shared bedroom, watching the sun gradually start to rise. Just about when the first rays of fiery gold light started spilling in the windows, Luna opened the door and emerged. She was bright-eyed and smiling. Celestia’s spirits rose to see her looking far better rested than she had any morning out here on the farm so far.
“Good morning, Luna!” Celestia smiled. “We have a visitor.”
“Oh!” Luna smiled back and nodded. She turned to Clover and bowed. “Good morning, Cardinal Clover.”
“Just, ummm… just Clover, from now on, if you please,” Clover said, sheepishly. “How are you this morning, Luna?”
“Doing well, thanks,” Luna said. “And you?”
“Not bad, all things considered,” Clover said. “Luna, I know you’re just getting up, but let me cut to the chase. I’m here to talk to you and your sister because some revelations have come to me about things that I should have addressed long before now, but haven’t.” She swallowed uncomfortably. “Let’s sit down.”
All three of them walked over to the small dining table in the house’s main room. They sat down around it, Clover on one side, and the sisters on the other.
Clover put her forehooves together on the table and looked down. “I think I should start with an apology,” she began after a few awkward seconds. “A real one this time. Luna, I’m very sorry about what I did to you by exposing such an extremely private dream. I can’t really imagine how difficult or humiliating that must have been, especially given the Unicorn Kingdom’s constant moralizing against… ummm, that kind of… well. Anyway. I understand now that it’s caused more distress than I realized, for you and your sister.”
“It has been difficult,” Luna said, guardedly.
“I know nothing can undo whatever damage it— I— caused,” Clover said. “I want to make sure you know, however, that I see you no differently than anypony else, and that’s the honest truth. Really. I don’t believe that having those kinds of dreams, or those feelings, makes anypony bad or means they’re in need of being changed or fixed. I think you’re a good pony the way you are. And I hope that this mistake hasn’t made me seem too thoughtless and inconsiderate to be forgiven.”
She waited, looking tense and uncomfortable.
“If it’s my forgiveness you want—” Luna reached out across the table and put her hoof on Clover’s “—then you have it. I accept your apology.”
“Thank you.” Clover smiled and looked up, loosening visibly with relief.
“No, thank you,” Luna said. “I want nothing more than to put this behind us all. Hearing this helps a great deal.”
“That’s good.” Clover nodded. “Further related to this, it’s also been brought to my attention that I’ve also managed our project in some other less than ideal ways. Looking back, I think this dreamwalking incident shows how I’ve been running a little roughshod with demands on you and your sister.”
Luna blinked. “Well, you are the cardinal mage here.”
“No.” Clover shook her head. “I mean, yes, but… but maybe that’s the problem.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“We’ve been operating under the same hierarchy as we were all used to in Thaumosciences,” Clover said. “The absoluteness of the power I have and you don’t has led me to trample all over what you and your sister might actually want. I don’t think that’s how things should be, not if we’re going to do this right.”
“How else, then?” Luna asked.
“I suppose I could start by offering another apology, and giving you a choice,” Clover said. “I’m sorry to have taken you away from your lunarite apprenticeship and thrown you into this predicament, this crazy plan to move the sun and moon. It’s not really fair, is it?” She sighed. “Luna… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I can quit? Just like that?” Luna asked. She looked over at Celestia. “What about my sister?”
“Her too.” Clover nodded. “You’re both free to go, whenever you want. I’ll get you new assignments, or send you back to what you were doing before. Whatever you think is best.”
“But if we did, what about the plan? What happens to the Unicorn Kingdom and the earth ponies?”
“I don’t know.” Clover shrugged. “I can try to throw a wrench in Star Fire’s work, buy some time, perhaps evacuate a small number of earth ponies southward. Or maybe find other unicorns who can figure out how to move the sun and moon, although I don’t have much hope for that. I suspect you were really the only two candidates of your generation. But, regardless, I’ll think of something.”
Luna gave Celestia a questioning look. “What will you do? Will you stay?”
“I think—” Celestia scrunched her muzzle, thinking for several seconds. “Yes, I think I will. I know it won’t be easy, but I also know it’s the best chance ponies have for all three of our tribes to continue surviving. I don’t think I can just do nothing.”
“Well, I’d certainly appreciate it,” Clover said. “If you’ll stay and figure out how to move the sun, that’s halfway there. I’ll just have to find somepony to move the moon, or maybe learn how to myself, if I must. And if I can. Or there may be alternate possibilities using just the sun, if not.”
“…No.” Luna shook her head. “You won’t have to. If Celestia is staying, then I’m staying.”
“Luna, are you sure about this?” Celestia asked. “It’s been hard on us already, and might get a lot worse before it gets better. What we’re doing is dangerous. You don’t have to stay just for me.”
“No, I don’t have to, but I want to,” Luna said. “You have a better chance with my help, and you’re right, this is best for everypony. I’ll stay for them, because this is bigger and more important than any of us three. Besides, we’ve come this far already. It’d be a shame to walk away when we’re starting to make progress.”
“Alright.” Celestia nodded. “As long as it’s your decision.”
“It is.”
“Thank you, Luna,” Clover said. “I’m glad you’re willing to stay. I’m sorry that conditions so far have been stressful and difficult. I’d like to say that they’ll get better, but I need to be honest and admit upfront that I don’t know if they will. Your sister is right, what we’re doing is inherently dangerous, both magically and politically. We all take a lot of risks here.”
“I know.” Luna nodded. “But I also know it will be worth it. I’m not sure how, other than reaching for the moon is something that some part of me knows I have to do. I can’t really explain it beyond that.”
“I understand,” Celestia said. “The sun calls to me, as well. I don’t think I could go back now even if I wanted to.”
“Speaking of, what kind of progress have you been making, exactly?” Clover asked.
“Well, I can tell you where the sun and the moon are in the sky,” Celestia said. “And I can feel it when they rise and set. We’ve both been able to for about a week now.”
“That was quick.” Clover looked surprised. “I don’t suppose you’ve achieved any influence on motion?”
“No, not yet.” Celestia shook her head. “I can feel the sun, but… how can I put it…? I’m not so sure the sun can feel me. The distance is immense and I don’t think either of us have an idea yet about how to bridge it. The moon is closer, but—”
“Still impossibly far,” Luna finished for her.
“Even so, this is very promising!” Clover smiled. “I would have thought that you’d still be in an initial investigation stage at this point with nothing to show yet. Already moving toward gaining that kind of attunement is excellent.”
“Perhaps, but it’s been a mixed experience,” Celestia said. “On one hoof, I’m as surprised as anypony how quickly we’ve gotten as far as we have in only two weeks. On the other, they’ve been by far the longest weeks of my life. It’s frustrating, because I have a strong urge pushing me to move faster, even when I seem to be hitting a wall. It’s exhausting. Every night leaves me completely drained.”
“Well, I don’t want to ask you to bang your head against a wall,” Clover said. “If you need time off, please take it. Burning out won’t help anything.”
“I wish I knew what would help.” Celestia shook her head.
“I don’t suppose time pressure will, will it?” Clover asked. “Because, while I know it’s still early yet, we really should start thinking about the earth pony component to all this. Arrangements need to be made. There’s a meeting I’d like to try to set up soon.”
“Meeting with who?” Celestia asked.
“Ideally, the top of their leadership,” Clover said. “The earth pony chancellor.”
The earth pony capitol building’s waiting area was cold, despite having a small wood-burning stove. This primitive appliance made of rough black cast iron came as yet another little bit of culture shock to Celestia: in Quartz City, she was used to public facilities being in stone buildings with excellent insulation and efficient heating elements powered by magical crystals that kept the temperature comfortably warm throughout the year. Earth ponies, by contrast, always seemed to rely on fire, which seemed to her like such a crude and inefficient source of heat with the way it constantly demanded attention and fuel. The building itself did little to help the situation: she was sure she could feel a draft of harsh winter air finding its way into the rickety wooden construction, making her shiver while it constantly tried to quench what little warmth the stove could offer.
Still, even with all that, it wouldn’t have been so bad except for how long they’d been sitting here. Waiting was getting frustrating, but Celestia kept reminding herself to have patience. There was no other choice, after all.
Her sister, however, was not so content to suffer silently. “Does she usually make ponies wait this long?” Luna grumbled, glancing over for the hundredth time at the clock on the wall.
“Nothing we can do.” Clover shrugged helplessly. “Can’t say I’m really surprised, though. It took over a week to just get an appointment. What’s another hour?”
“It’s a bit inconsiderate, is what it is,” Luna groused, pacing near the stove and trying to soak up what warmth she could before it dissipated into the freezing air. “We were here on time. Why can’t she have the same courtesy?”
“We’re not chancellors,” Celestia reminded her. “I’m sure she’s very busy.”
“Hrmph.” Luna’s voice softened and she settled back into one of the seats. “I suppose you’re right.”
They sat through another few minutes of the cold. The room was nearly silent, except for the almost inaudible crackling of burning wood through cast iron. Celestia wished there could have been at least a book or two to occupy herself with, but her surroundings were bare of reading material. Apparently, the only diversion provided to ponies who got stuck waiting here was feeding firewood into the stove from a wrought iron log rack in the corner.
Finally, a door opened and an earth pony with a well-coiffured strawberry blonde mane over a chocolate brown coat stuck her head through into the waiting room. “Cardinal Clover?” She looked around the room with clear sky-blue eyes, and Celestia noticed the striking white blaze running down her face and muzzle. “The Chancellor will see you now.”
“Wonderful! At last!” Clover sprang to her hooves. The two sisters followed close behind.
“This way.” The earth pony ushered them through the door, down a short hallway, and into a large office. Celestia was relieved to find the air much warmer in here, thanks to what seemed to be better insulation and a large brick fireplace in the far wall. In front of the fireplace, the center of the room was dominated by a pudgy earth pony mare sitting at a huge desk piled with a haphazard clutter of papers, folders, ledger books, broken quills, and endless other random odds and ends.
“Chancellor Puddinghead, Cardinal Mage Clover and her associates are here to see you,” the pony who had led them in announced.
“Very good, Smart Cookie.” Chancellor Puddinghead nodded from behind the desk. Celestia studied her for a moment, and was silently taken aback. This pony had a ratty grey-brown mane in a ridiculously overwrought bun. Her mess of a lemon-yellow coat clearly needed a thorough brushing, and when she looked back at Celestia, it was with muddy dull green eyes that seemed hazy and distracted. This wasn’t how Celestia had imagined somepony in the high office of chancellor.
Then again, she asked herself, what should a chancellor look like? She didn’t exactly know what she was expecting.
Smart Cookie, on the other hoof, looked much more professional and put-together despite her obviously lower station. She walked off to one side of the office and sat down at a much smaller desk, where she resumed working on what looked like the tedious task of transcribing correspondence by hoof. Celestia, well acquainted with this kind of busywork from her apprenticeship days, felt an instinctive pang of sympathy for her.
“Good afternoon, Cardinal,” Puddinghead said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Clover replied. “I know you must be very busy.”
“Oh my, yes. So much needs my attention. You know, earth pony problems.” Puddinghead waved a hoof in a dismissive gesture carrying an undertone of contempt. “Not things unicorns would understand.”
“Err, no, of course not, Chancellor.” Clover flashed a dull smile, which Puddinghead didn’t seem to notice. “We wouldn’t presume to know about ‘earth pony problems.’ We’re here today to discuss more of a mutual issue, something affecting unicorns and earth ponies alike.”
“Oooh! Ooooh! Let me guess. Is it hoof rot?” Puddinghead ventured. “Tooth rot? Hoof and tooth rot?” Her eyes widened dramatically while she gasped and reared up over her desk. “Oh no! You’re here about hoof-and-mouth disease?!” She made a show of examining her forehooves.
“…No, Chancellor.” Clover shook her head slowly. “We’re not here to talk about any kind of disease.”
“Whew!” Puddinghead slumped back down into her chair and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. “Don’t scare me like that, then. Hard on the ol’ heart, you know?” She tapped the left side of her chest with one hoof.
“Indeed.” Clover looked at the Chancellor askance. “My apologies.”
“So what are you here for?” Puddinghead asked.
“Nothing less than the future of all ponykind,” Clover said. “Unicorns and earth ponies alike.”
Puddinghead gave her a suspicious look with one eye half-closed. “What about pegasuseses?” she asked. “They’re part of ponykind, too. Technically. I mean, if you want to call those bird-brained savages ponies.”
“Yes, I suppose it should go without saying that the pegasi have a stake in this as well.” Clover cocked her head in thought. “Although I suspect they’re much less exposed and in a far better position to deal with the crisis, if it becomes one. Anyway—”
“Did you say crisis?” Puddinghead’s ears pricked up.
“I’m afraid there’s a very real danger of things getting to that point.” Clover nodded. “If you’d let me explain, that’s why I’m—”
“Smart Cookie!” Puddinghead suddenly bellowed without warning, making Celestia startle. “Bring me my crisis kit!”
Smart Cookie let out a long-suffering sigh while she slowly set her quill back in the inkpot on her tiny desk. “It’s still on your desk from when you needed it yesterday, Chancellor,” she said. “And the day before. And the day before that.”
“Where?” Puddinghead hunted around the cluttered desk with her eyes. “I don’t— Ahh. Here we go.” She lunged toward a metal box off on the far left edge, swept her forelegs around it, and pulled it to the center. After fumbling with its latches using her hooves for a moment, she opened it.
“Oh, good,” she said, looking inside. “There’s still some cookies left.” To demonstrate, she pulled one out and stuffed it in her mouth, swallowing it down in one gulp.
“Cookies?” Clover asked.
“Of course cookies.” Puddinghead huffed and rolled her eyes as if exasperated by having to explain the obvious. “How am I supposed to do my best thinking if I can’t keep my blood sugar up? Brain fuel, that’s what sugar is. Making sure you have plenty of it is the secret to always being able to think anywhere. At the office, at home, underwater, in a chimney… anywhere, I tell ya!”
“Is that so?” Clover looked skeptical.
Celestia heard Smart Cookie mutter something about how she was pretty sure all that sugar mostly ‘just made the Chancellor gain weight.’
“What was that, Smart Cookie?” Puddinghead leaned forward over her desk, frowning.
“I said, that’s what makes our Chancellor so dang great!” Smart Cookie said more loudly, turning to look at Puddinghead and putting on a saccharine smile.
“Oh. Yep, you betcha I am!” Puddinghead replied, with her own self-satisfied grin. “Here, try it for yourself.” She turned the box and pushed it across her desk towards Clover.
Clover and both of the sisters stepped forward and glanced inside curiously. Aside from the baked goods, there were eye-catching gleams of bright gold coins. “This is… just cookies, and bits,” Clover said in confusion. “A lot of bits.”
“Well, duh, bits.” Puddinghead stared at Clover as if she’d suddenly grown a second horn. “That’s the other half of what it takes to succeed in politics: you can solve any crisis by throwing enough money at it.”
“That’s… an interesting perspective, I suppose?” Clover pondered. “But I’m not so sure it’s going to work this time.”
“Of course it’ll work.” Puddinghead snorted. “Trust me, I know these things. That’s why I’m a chancellor and you’re not.”
“Yeah, that must be it,” Smart Cookie breathed almost inaudibly. Celestia turned to look just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.
“Now, now,” Puddinghead admonished her secretary. “You know you can’t be a smart cookie with a crummy attitude!”
“Sorry, Chancellor,” Smart Cookie said, then went back to transcribing letters. “You’re right. I should just focus on my work.”
“Mmm-hmm!” Puddinghead nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Perhaps I could explain what this looming crisis is, at least?” Clover pleaded.
“Fine, fine.” Puddinghead rolled a hoof and settled back in her chair, with her muzzle in the air and her eyes closed. “Bore me with the details, if you must.”
“What if I told you that in a few decades, or maybe less, there will be no more earth ponies?”
Puddinghead cracked open one eye. “Say what, now?”
“What if I told you there was a plan being worked on as we speak, and it would make earth ponies unnecessary to the Unicorn Kingdom?” Clover continued. “What if unicorns were working on replicating earth pony magic, and once they can do that, they would deliberately prevent any new earth ponies from being born in order to engineer their extinction?”
Puddinghead suddenly reared up over her desk, scowling furiously at Clover. “I’d say you’re a dirty troublemaking liar!” she growled. “That’s impossible. They would never!”
“But they would, and it’s true!” Celestia stepped forward. “I was working on this project myself until recently. You have to believe us.”
“And who are you?” Puddinghead cast a suspicious eye on Celestia.
“My name is Celestia,” she said. “I’m a solarite—well, thaumite, now, I guess—in the Thaumosciences Authority. Until a few weeks ago, I was working in the field on research assignments in support of this project, first investigating the effects of the worsening weather and then the mechanisms of how earth pony magic influences crop growth. My supervising mage told me herself that she and her superiors were hoping for it to lead to unicorn control over earth pony magic as an ultimate goal.”
“What about her?” Puddinghead jabbed a hoof in Luna’s direction.
“That’s my sister, Luna,” Celestia said. “She’s here because she’s working with us on an important part of our plan to stop this from happening.”
“Oooooh.” Puddinghead rolled her eyes. “I see. Now there’s a plan and everything. Well, I’d like to hear it!”
“That… is… why we’re here.” Clover’s voice seethed through her gritted teeth. “As I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“Well, why didn’tcha say so?” Puddinghead instantly shifted her demeanor, putting on a smile. “Go ahead, then.”
“Thank you.” Clover cleared her throat. “Now. After careful consideration among ourselves, my two colleagues and I have concluded that the only course of action to restore sustainability to ponykind’s situation is to arrange for the independence of earth ponies. We propose resettling as many of them as possible further south on the continent, outside the borders of the Unicorn Kingdom, in a warmer climate and in new, more fertile lands.”
“And the Unicorn Kingdom agreed to this?” Puddinghead looked puzzled.
“Not, umm… not exactly.” Clover tapped one forehoof on the floor, fidgeting. “We haven’t proposed this to the court of Princess Platinum. Given that this plan would contravene their current policies, it’s doubtful they would be interested in allowing us to implement it. Instead, we believe we’ll need to apply some… strategic pressure to persuade them into cooperation.”
“‘Strategic pressure?’” Puddinghead giggle-snorted while she made air-quotes with her front hooves. “You and what army?”
“Not with an army—” Clover shook her head, then stared at Puddinghead in raw earnest, “—but with the heavens themselves. That’s why things will truly change. We’re going to wrest the sun and the moon from the control of the Unicorn Kingdom. With that as our weapon, we’re going to make this world into the better place it should be.”
The mirth slowly faded from Puddinghead’s face. “Go on,” she said, suddenly very sober.
“These two sisters are by far the most talented solarite and lunarite born in this generation,” Clover explained. “I have no doubt that they have the power to take direct control over the sun and moon, and they’ve been shown a vision that this migration south is meant to be. Once we can make it happen, the days of cold oppression are over, and a warm new morning will dawn. I promise you that.”
An electric thrill of excitement coursed down Celestia’s back and she could feel the hairs of her mane bristling on her neck as Clover spoke. “I promise it as well, Chancellor.” She stepped forward, standing beside Clover. “We will succeed, and when we do, there will be a new sunrise, like nothing the world has ever seen.”
Luna also stepped forward, nodding vigorously, looking at Puddinghead with fiery eyes.
Faced with the three unicorns in solidarity, Puddinghead’s jaw momentarily dropped in astonishment. Just for a moment, as if she was staring out through a doorway letting in brilliant sunlight both glorious and fearsome that she was unsure about stepping into and embracing, Celestia could see the conflict in her green eyes, hope struggling against doubt…
But not for long. The light faded. Doubt won. With a sinking heart, Celestia watched it happening and she knew that the possibilities for the future they’d tried to offer were being rejected. She could almost feel the way something cruel and petty bubbled up in their place, making Puddinghead’s face harden and her mouth close, twisting her lips into a sardonic cunning smile under those muddy, hazy eyes.
“Well, well, well,” the Chancellor said slowly. Her ever-widening grin gave Celestia a bad feeling. “So what you’re saying is, you’re planning a rebellion. Because that sounds like a rebellion to me.”
“If you like to call it that,” Clover said softly.
“I sure do!” Puddinghead laughed. “And so will the Unicorn Kingdom, when they hear about it.”
Clover’s ears flattened and she narrowed her eyes. “And why would the Unicorn Kingdom hear about it?”
“Oh, silly Clover, you don’t think I can just not tell them, do you?” Puddinghead asked. “I mean, how would it look when you inevitably get caught, and it all comes out—and then the unicorns realize that we had a meeting and you must have told me all of this, but I didn’t tell them?”
“I don’t know,” Clover deadpanned. “You tell me. How would it look?”
“Pretty BAD, that’s how!!” Puddinghead shouted. “But on the other hoof, when I turn you in, they’ll know they backed the right horse. Oh, they’re gonna loooove me! The loyal ally, working to keep the troublemakers and rabble-rousers from ruining everything. That’s good old Chancellor Puddinghead.”
Clover sighed. “I see.”
“Well, girls, I’m glad we had our little meeting, but I’m afraid I’m out of time for this appointment.” Puddinghead reared up. “GUARDS!” she roared at the top of her lungs, so loud it made Celestia wince and flatten her ears.
After her yell died down, Puddinghead looked smug for a moment, but it quickly gave way to confusion when the ringing silence kept dragging on. “Where are those slowpokes?!” She wondered after a few seconds, pounding her desk with an impatient hoof.
“They’re not coming,” Clover said calmly. “I doubt you noticed, not having a horn and all, but I magically soundproofed the room on my way in. Seemed the smart thing to do.”
Puddinghead sucked in air through her teeth, hissing. “Unicorn trickery!” she spat, suddenly performing an impressive leap out of her chair and over her desk and trying to bolt for the door. “I should have kno—”
Clover’s horn was already glowing before the Chancellor hit the ground. Puddinghead’s entire body was surrounded by a deep gold aura and she was held suspended in the air, legs still flailing at a gallop.
“Have a seat, Chancellor,” Clover said, floating Puddinghead back to her chair behind the desk. “I think you’re a little worked up. Understandable, though. This kind of thing can easily get a pony emotional and over-excited. Let’s just calm down, shall we? A nap, maybe. Yes, a nap would do you a world of good. Now, don’t mind us, you just get some sleep.” The gold glow around Clover’s horn fluctuated, shifting in subtle patterns as new spell-threads were woven in.
“Get… some sleep…” Puddinghead yawned while her eyes drooped shut. “Okay.” She laid her head down on her desk and went out like a light in seconds. The glow of magic slowly faded, and the only movement was her chest slowly expanding and contracting rhythmically in her slumber.
Smart Cookie stood motionless in front of her little desk at the side of the room, watching everything happen with eyes wide open in shock.
Clover lowered her head and turned to look apologetically at Celestia and Luna. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate to resort to these kinds of methods, especially after what we talked about. It’s not how we wanted to do things, I know. I wish I could have found a better way.”
“I wish so too, but I have to admit, I’m not sure what other choice there was,” Luna said.
“Right.” Celestia nodded. “I would have liked this to be a constructive meeting, but if she’s determined to give us away…”
Clover sighed. “I thought perhaps she’d have enough of a little spark of vision to see her way past being a greedy puppet for the Unicorn Kingdom. Maybe I should have known better. But as always, they call me clever, not wise.”
“Is she gonna be okay?” Smart Cookie fretted, moving from her own tiny desk and walking over to check on Puddinghead. “What’d you do to her?”
“No need to worry, it’s simple magic,” Clover said. “She’s taking a little nap, and when she wakes up, she won’t remember the last hour or so—long enough for her to forget this meeting ever even happened. She’s unharmed beyond that.”
“Well, she’d better be alright.” Smart Cookie frowned. “I don’t know how I’d explain it if something were to happen to her. And I tried to tell you when you were first arranging this harebrained appointment, she wasn’t going to listen.”
“Yes, you did.” Clover nodded. “And I should have listened to you, Ms. Cookie. I just thought the chance to do the right thing had to be offered to her. It’s only fair. Besides, even if it was a longshot, the risk was worth taking. She may be little more than a figurehead, but even so, her visibility as a public figure would have been a great asset in helping to gain support among earth ponies.”
“Guess you’ve got a point there,” Smart Cookie admitted. “As crazy as she is, she’s got some kinda way of getting ponies to go along with her. Can’t account for it, myself, but maybe I’m too close, being in the office all day every day with the buffoon, practically doing her job for her while she gets to sit at the big desk and get the glory. But anyway, like I told you, I’ll do what I can to help get things moving, even if we have to do this without her.”
“Wait, so you already knew about this before we ever even had a meeting with Chancellor Puddinghead?” Celestia asked, looking back and forth between Clover and Smart Cookie.
“Of course.” Smart Cookie nodded. “Who do you think writes the Chancellor’s schedule and makes all her appointments? I wasn’t gonna just let somepony waltz in without me knowing what they were up to.”
“It’s true.” Clover nodded as well. “She made me spill everything before I could even get us in the door. But that’s her job, of course. A good secretary can basically run the world from behind the scenes, if she wants.”
“Aww, you flatterer.” Smart Cookie smiled. “Maybe that’s a bit much. Anyway, it’s too bad about Puddinghead, but it won’t make much difference. There’s a lot of discontentment and you’ll find plenty of earth ponies ready to strike out for just about anywhere the Unicorn Kingdom isn’t. You’re really sure about all this, though, controlling the sun and the moon and leading earth ponies south to somewhere warm?”
“Absolutely.” Clover nodded.
“Well, I look forward to seeing if you can pull it off,” Smart Cookie said. “Things aren’t exactly going well for us, and I don’t think there’s any real secret about that.”
“No, there’s not.” Clover shook her head. She glanced back at Puddinghead’s slumbering form. “I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble.”
“What? The Sleeping Beauty trick?” Smart Cookie laughed. “Nah. Not as long as she’ll be alright. Her afternoon naps are when I get the most work done. I should get back to that soon, too, if she’ll be out for a while. Strike while the iron’s hot, you know?”
“Alright. I guess we’re about done here, anyway,” Clover said.
“Hey, look, stay in touch,” Smart Cookie said. “You can send any mail or messages about your plan to my home address, if you want. Less suspicious than sending things through this office, now that we know Puddinghead isn't cooperating.” She went to her desk and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, then gave it to Clover. “Keep me up to date on how things are developing, and I’ll do what I can to help make this go smoothly on the earth pony side. I can’t promise much, but maybe I can do a few things here and there to assist.”
“Thank you. It’s good to know we have at least one friend.” Clover nodded and took the paper, then tore off the lower half. She pulled the quill from Smart Cookie’s desk and wrote down another address on the blank half, which Celestia recognized as Winter Wheat’s farm. “You can reach us here, if you learn anything we might like to know,” she said, giving the piece of paper back to Smart Cookie. “We’ll be off, if that’s all.”
“Oh, uh, one more thing,” Smart Cookie said. “Whatever you’re doing, I’d suggest doing it soon. If earth ponies are gonna go, it should be in winter, before spring comes and all the farmers start to plant.”
“Why is that?” Luna asked.
“Because earth ponies are tied to the work they’ve invested in the land. It’s always been how we survive. Once there are sown crops to tend, nopony’s going to be willing to just leave them behind. That’s the whole year’s food, gone to waste. We’d starve. Nor would there be any seed left to plant new ones when we get where we’re going, either.”
“Before spring?” Clover looked worried. “My. I hope that’s not too much time pressure.”
Celestia and Luna glanced nervously at each other.
“We’ll… umm…” Luna trailed off.
“…Do our best,” Celestia finished for her.
☙ ☀ ❧
“What are we going to do?” Luna asked despondently. The last dim light of sunset was coming through the windows, heralding that Luna’s daily efforts and struggles with the moon had just ended, and Celestia’s turn with the sun was about to begin.
“I don’t know.” Celestia stared down at what was in front of her on the table, simple but good earth pony food arrayed on a rough tin plate. Winter Wheat, whether out of hospitality or some deep-rooted mothering instinct, kept insisting on leaving hearty meals prepared for the two sisters while they were living in her house. Celestia appreciated it, but unfortunately, with her nerves in the state they were in, she’d only managed to get down about a third of dinner before her stomach felt like it was in too many knots to handle more.
“I’m not getting anywhere, let alone making any kind of progress that could put us on track to be done before spring,” Luna complained. “I work myself sore every day, but none of my ideas seem to be leading to anything.”
“I know, we’re both finding it challenging,” Celestia said. She found herself trying to put on a brave face, even as she herself struggled inside with her own anxieties. “Just… try not to think about the pressure.”
Don’t think about the pressure? Really?
She immediately felt dumb. It seemed like patently ridiculous advice—how were they supposed to somehow not think about the one thing that consumed their every waking hour?—but she had no idea what else to say.
“I’m just so frustrated.” Luna scowled at a pile of steamed carrots on her own plate.
“So am I.” Celestia nodded.
“…I’m also scared,” Luna admitted with reticence.
“Don’t be.”
“But what if we can’t do it?” Luna continued. “What if we fail everypony?”
Celestia got up and walked around to Luna’s side of the table, and gently hugged her from behind. “We won’t.”
Luna nodded, quiet in her sister’s embrace for a moment. “I hope not.”
“Things are better than when we started, at least,” Celestia pointed out. “The two of us overcame our problem and we’re still sisters. We cleared things up with Cardinal Clover and set the right direction for where we want this… whatever it is we’re doing… to go. Things didn’t work out with Puddinghead, but now we know to go to Smart Cookie instead. Maybe all that groundwork had to be laid out first, before we were ever going to be able to reach beyond the sky. Maybe it’s only just now that we’re finally ready to start.”
“Maybe,” Luna agreed, with a small nod. “But if it’s as simple as that, then what are we still missing?”
Celestia thought for a long moment. She hadn’t a clue.
“We’ll find it,” she decided. “Speaking of, the sun’s down. I need to start soon.” She kissed her sister on the side of the head. “Goodnight, Luna.”
“Goodnight, Celestia.” Luna nuzzled her back briefly. “Good luck.”
“With any luck,” Celestia mused, “soon it won’t be a matter of luck.”
The moon cresting to its zenith marked midnight, following the usual routine Quartz City’s lunarites kept to. Celestia could feel it from inside Winter Wheat’s woodshed without having to see it. She also sensed that the sun, by contrast, was parked behind the far side of the planet, almost motionless while it waited for the solar thaumocontroller to start pulling it toward the next dawn. Thinking about the many long hours still left to go between now and then made Celestia feel even more tired than she already was.
The distraction of these stray thoughts slipping through her mind broke her concentration on the large piece of transparent crystal in front of her. Near the point of magical exhaustion and having nothing to show for it, she eased off on her magic and let the crystal sink to the ground as slowly and gently as she could. The brilliant rosy light from her horn dimmed and blinked out. Her aching legs folded underneath her and she dropped onto a small pile of soft straw covered by a coarse blanket.
Panting to catch her breath, she allowed herself a little while to rest. Although she was trying to stick to their new approach and not to overwork herself so much anymore, sometimes it was hard to get around. Crystal resonators like the big hexagonal shaft of perfectly clear high-grade quartz she’d been focusing on just now didn’t fire themselves, after all. Power, and a lot of it, had to come from somewhere. Her aching forehead and the sweat matting her mane and beading in heavy drops in her coat attested that, right now, that somewhere was Celestia’s horn.
Trying to use a resonator to turn a steady output into brief pulses spiking at much higher power than any unicorn could produce on their own was an idea that she and Luna had concocted together, one of the best they’d come up with so far. Unfortunately, ‘best’ was a relative term, and Celestia ruminated with frustration on how hopelessly inadequate it still was. Although a crystal could serve as a very effective battery to hold large quantities of magical energy, the highest capacity piece they could get their hooves on was still orders of magnitude short, even when she pushed it to frightening extremes. At the most intense she dared drive it to, she could feel the stress in the crystal lattice, threatening to crack and shatter explosively. The undamped vibration while it was resonating also filled the shed with an ear-splitting hum even more painful than the screech of steel nails scraping across a chalkboard.
And all these problems are aside from the issue of output duration, which will necessarily be very short, not the type of continual link we’ll probably need…
She sighed and tried to let those discouraging thoughts drop away, distracting herself by idly conjuring up a small replica of the sun hanging in the air a meter in front of her muzzle. It was a perfect copy, complete with sunspots and tiny flares looping off of its surface while she watched.
At least her little illusion made her smile. Becoming so attuned to the sun that she was able to recreate its image in such precise detail gave her some hope. It reminded her that they weren’t entirely without progress, even if—
A sudden pop and a flash of light to her left made her start and jump to her hooves. The miniature sun blinked out, vanishing along with her moment of calm.
Being spooked gave way to feeling irritated when she looked over at where the disturbance had come from and found a rolled-up scroll lying on the floor. She levitated it and discovered that it was tied around the middle with a bow of clover-green ribbon and sealed with a blob of wax in the same color, making it easy for her to guess who it was from. After settling down a little bit, she broke the seals, unrolled the paper, and started reading the letter within:
Dear esteemed colleagues,
There’s been an interesting development! After consulting numerous history books and being pointed to some very old archives I probably shouldn’t have gone digging in alone (and nearly being eaten alive by spiders for my trouble—a story for another time), I hit a lucky break and found something that might be helpful to us.
It seems not all moon-moving unicorns limited their record-keeping to just calendars. I have discovered what appears to be a personal notebook belonging to a lunarite named Tidal Force, who lived long ago before the time of the thaumocontrollers. I surmise that she either died suddenly or lost these notes in some sort of disaster and couldn’t return for them—as they contain some of her ‘trade secrets,’ I’m certain she would have more carefully hidden or destroyed them if she’d been able to. Lucky for us, she wasn’t. The book, being hundreds of years old, was very fragile and almost crumbling into dust, but with care I’ve been able to devise the right spells to read most of it. I’ve transcribed some of the more promising pages and attached copies of them to this letter in the hopes that the two of you may find some clues to accelerate your efforts. The grammar and spelling are a little archaic, but nothing so far removed from our current language that it’s indecipherable.
Happy reading, and as always, I appreciate your hard work.
♡,
C.t.C.
P.S., I am sorry to send a letter at such an odd hour, but I thought night would be better than day, for obvious reasons.
Celestia’s irritation had faded by the time she finished reading. Intrigued, she flipped through the attached sheets. They certainly looked like magical transfers from notebook pages, and as stated in the letter, the dialect was very old-fashioned. She stumbled briefly here and there on the unfamiliar style, but for the most part she was able to take the meaning without too much difficulty.
By the time she was done, what she’d read made her eyes open wide and brought an excited smile to her face.
☙ ☀ ❧
“Luna! Luna, wake up!” Celestia shook her sister excitedly.
“I— what…?” Luna stirred under her blankets, barely cracking open one eye. “…’S’it sunrise already?”
“Almost,” Celestia said quickly, barely noticing the question. “Look, you have to see this! Clover sent us something during the night. It’s important.”
“Tia.” Luna yawned and brought up one forehoof to push down the blanket covering most of her head, revealing a bird’s nest of bedmane and an unhappy glare. “How important?”
“Very,” Celestia insisted, resisting the urge to yawn in reciprocation.
Luna opened one eye a little wider. “More-important-than-coffee important?”
“Well…” Celestia studied her sister’s tired face and relented, smiling slightly. “I suppose you can drink coffee while you read it.”
Luna sighed. “…Good enough,” she mumbled, pushing the blankets down and stumbling out of bed.
“Wait.” Celestia levitated a hairbrush over from a small table and began brushing out her sister’s tangled mane. Luna stood still while Celestia went through what had become their new morning routine, working carefully to groom the silky cornflower locks back to an orderly state.
“There,” Celestia said softly, putting the brush down when she finished. “Now you look civilized.”
“Thank you.” Luna yawned again, then nuzzled Celestia briefly on her way out of the room.
Luna reached the kitchen and started some coffee brewing. “Now, what’s so important that it had to be this early?” she asked, looking out a dark window. “It’s still a little while yet ‘til dawn. I could still be sleeping.”
“You’ll understand when you see it.” Celestia pointed to the letter from Clover, lying on the dining room table.
Luna walked over and started reading. “Oh. She found something?” She finished the letter, then flipped it to the bottom of the stack of papers and started on the copied pages. Halfway down the first one, she looked up at Celestia, with wide, surprised eyes.
Celestia just grinned and let her keep reading.
After a few minutes, Luna broke to go retrieve her coffee from the kitchen, but it was almost an afterthought. The steaming mug that would normally have her full attention was relegated to only a brief second or two here and there for an occasional quick sip while she devoured the transcribed pages instead.
Celestia sat and waited quietly until Luna finished and slowly set down the last sheet. “Well.” Luna stared at nothing in particular, looking a little stunned. “This explains… a lot.”
“It certainly does.” Celestia nodded. “The question is, can we do it?”
“It almost seems too good to be true,” Luna reflected cautiously. “So simple it’s surprising. But that makes a kind of sense, because it’s also so simple everypony would miss it. Especially if they didn’t have just the right talents.”
“Simple, but the kind of thing you’d only realize by thinking far outside the box of the kinds of magic we’ve been taught,” Celestia agreed. “I wouldn’t have ever imagined it would be a self-sustaining process. All this time, we’ve been thinking about how to get enough output from ourselves, or from crystals, when the power is already right there if we can just finesse it into cooperating.”
“Right. If.” Luna nodded. “Have you tried any of this yet?”
“A little bit of poking at it,” Celestia said. “Just sort of experimenting, but not much more. I’m still on the first steps of feeling things out. I wanted to go slowly. I’m a little worried it might be dangerous. I was hoping we could work on it together.”
“Haven’t you already been working all night?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing.” Luna shook her head. “You need to rest. You’ll be no good burned out. That’s what we agreed to with Clover. Something better for us all. We can’t go working ourselves to death, remember?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage,” Celestia insisted. “And it’s not as if I’m being forced. I want to do this. Anyway, I’m not even that tired.”
“Hmm, how did you put it when I tried this?” Luna thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I remember.” She pointed one hoof at the door to their room and stared at Celestia with stern eyes. “Bed. Now.”
Celestia stared at Luna in surprise for the briefest of moments, before an amused look formed on her face. “Why you little…”
Luna smiled back and stuck her tongue out. “This is what you get for being a good sister and looking out for me. Now I must repay you when the horseshoe’s on the other hoof.”
Celestia rolled her eyes and huffed. “Fine, if I must,” she conceded, then walked to Luna and hugged her. “Goodnight, then. And good luck.”
“No. You were right.” Luna nodded and tapped the papers on the table with a forehoof. “It’s not a matter of luck. Not anymore.”
☙ ☀ ❧
The forest was empty, a quiet place filled with shadows stretching out long in the light of the setting sun coming through the branches. The trees were bare, having dropped their leaves for winter, though the air felt mild and there was no snow on the ground.
Celestia?
She looked around in surprise. The call unnerved her, with the way her name seemed to be whispered on the wind, coming from no particular direction.
Celestia, can you hear me?
The voice was still directionless, but a little louder and more familiar now. “Luna?” Celestia called out in response.
Yes, it’s me.
“Where are you?” Celestia turned her head back and forth, squinting through the fading dappled light. She didn’t see anything.
I’m not really sure. It’s your dream. I’m afraid this is something unfamiliar.
“The forest?” Celestia asked, looking around hesitantly. “It’s not very familiar to me, either. I don’t know my way around, exactly.”
Have you been here before?
“I…” Celestia thought about it. “I think so? Occasionally, in other… dreams? You’re saying I’m asleep right now?”
Yes. Just a moment. I think I can find you.
“Where are you?” Celestia asked again. She glanced around in various directions and still didn’t see anything but more trees.
“Over here!” a distant voice rang out, finally coming from somewhere specific this time.
Celestia turned her head to look to where the voice was coming from, and started walking towards it. “Luna?” She peered through the trunks, trying to see her.
“I hear you!” Luna shouted back.
“Luna, I’m coming!” Celestia continued following the sound. Finally, she spotted something moving, a midnight blue form walking through the woods. She ran to it, while the form likewise turned and began to approach her.
The deep blue figure was vague and indistinct at first. As she got closer, it took on what seemed to be a more solid appearance and a finer level of detail, coalescing as if made out of mist. Luna’s cornflower blue mane and tail became clear and defined, along with her teal eyes and silver crescent moon over black clouds on her haunch. After another few seconds of closing the gap, she was standing there as fully formed and solid as ever.
“Hello, Celestia.” She smiled.
“Luna.” Celestia tilted her head slightly. “What’s going on?”
“Apparently, this worked,” Luna replied.
“What worked?”
“Dreamwalking,” Luna said. “This is just a crude version, and there’s so much still to learn, but it’s a beginning.”
“Beginning of what? How are you doing this?”
“That’s what you need to see, Celestia,” Luna said. “What we read about, it’s like no other magic I’ve ever used or felt. This…” She gestured with a hoof and tried to speak, but nothing came for a few seconds. “…Just… just watch.”
Luna’s horn began glowing, and Celestia felt an accompanying thaumic field begin to build. It wasn’t out of the ordinary at first, just normal amounts of magic trivial for any unicorn. Then it rapidly started escalating, ramping up to what felt like the level of a strong telekinetic exertion, although Luna didn’t seem to be moving anything.
“Luna, what is it?” Celestia asked curiously. “What spell is this?”
“I wish I could tell you, but I’m not exactly sure how to describe it.” Luna shook her head. The field continued to grow in intensity, until it started to feel like the radiating magical blaze of strongly enchanted crystals. It surprised Celestia with power beyond what a unicorn, even one as strongly magical as Luna, should have been able to produce on her own.
It didn’t stop. The intensity of the magic Luna was channeling just kept rising, to levels not only impossible, but truly frightening. Celestia lowered her head and flattened her ears. She didn’t like it. Something didn’t feel right.
How was this happening? She didn’t understand. If she was sure of anything, it was that this was far too much, far too dangerous for any one unicorn to handle. Luna’s eyes started glowing white with stray thaumoradiant emission, an alarming and unmistakable symptom of serious magical overexertion.
“Luna, stop! It’s too much! You’ll hurt yourself!” Celestia cried out in fear. “What are you doing?!”
“What I was born to do,” Luna answered calmly. She raised a foreleg and pointed at the sky with one hoof while she stared at Celestia with a serene expression.
Celestia suddenly noticed Luna’s mane and tail emanating a deep purple-blue glow and starting to become translucent, rising and flowing slowly in the air as if on an unfelt ethereal breeze. Tiny points of twinkling light, a night sky full of stars, shined in them—no, not just in them, through them, as if they were a window into the depths of space.
The swelling torrent of magic coming from Luna felt like a blazing white-hot inferno now, so intense it saturated the perception in Celestia’s horn. She was magically blinded in its glare, the way staring at the sun made it impossible to see anything else. Almost on the edge of panic, Celestia took a step back away from her sister.
Even through her fright, she still had enough of her wits about her to look up and follow Luna’s pointing hoof with her eyes. Through the lacework of tree branches overhead, she saw clearly what was there in the painted sunset sky: the silvery moon, already far up over the horizon, and sailing through the heavens so fast that its motion was easily visible.
Celestia’s heart almost stopped when all the pieces fell into place and she realized what was happening.
Luna was raising the moon.
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia’s eyes snapped wide open as she woke with a gasp. In an instant, she kicked the blankets off herself and rolled out of bed. A muffled “Oomph!” escaped from somewhere low in her throat when, in her haste, she faceplanted in a clumsy heap on the cold floor. She ended up with legs sprawled out at awkward angles and her rear in the air, tail arched forward and flopped over her back like a dead fish and tangles of unkempt pink mane covering her face.
Completely heedless of her own indignity, she scrambled to her hooves. Still shaking her mane out of her eyes, she started bolting through the house, pulling open the bedroom door ahead of herself telekinetically so she wouldn’t have to stop for it. But she was overeager and this still didn’t feel fast enough. Halfway through the main living area, her horn flashed with rose light and she teleported herself through the walls of the house, appearing in the yard with a loud pop.
She hadn’t entirely thought this plan through: all the conserved momentum from running kept her moving forward, but now on a much less sure footing than a moment ago. Her legs wobbled underneath her while she tried to keep her balance on hooves suddenly skidding over icy ground.
Once she managed to stop sliding and steady herself, she looked up at the sky. It was mid-day, clear and blue with nothing but a few distant wispy clouds. She visually scanned a full circle, but didn’t see the moon anywhere.
She scrunched her muzzle in confusion, and felt around at the ambient magic of the world, finally thinking enough to take the time to pay attention to what her horn could tell her. The moon, she discovered, was in its normal daytime parking position behind the far side of the planet.
Relief, quickly followed by a sense of letdown, came over her. The aftermath of her fading excitement left her feeling deflated. The dream felt so vivid, so real. Was any of what she’d just seen true?
It was a good question, but after a few moments of staring at the sky lost in thought, another issue was quickly becoming more pressing: she’d just bolted outside without her cloak, or any other warm clothing, on a vicious below-zero winter’s day, and the razor bite of bitter cold wind brought reality setting in fast. Her stinging, watery eyes and the shivering in her legs and sides told her this would quickly turn out to be a serious mistake if she didn’t do something about it.
She turned and galloped over to the woodshed, opening the door and letting herself in. The shed wasn’t heated, but at least it wouldn’t be windy and there might be warm clothes inside she could use, not to mention answers to her questions.
“Got your attention, did I?” Luna watched her enter, seeming unsurprised.
So Luna knew. Her presence in the dream had been real, then. “You can say that again.” Celestia nodded. She felt her coat bristling from the cold as she closed the door.
“Oh my. You’re freezing. Here.” Luna levitated her own dark blue cloak and draped it over Celestia. The gentle heat of the phoenix feathers lining the inside felt heavenly, warming her back up and calming her shivers.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Celestia took another moment to warm up. “So, what did I just see?” she asked.
“Oh, that,” Luna said. “Maybe it was a little too dramatic, judging by how quickly you came running out here. I’m sorry, but I thought you’d want to know sooner rather than later.”
Celestia skipped straight to the question that mattered most. All else could wait, as far as she was concerned. “Can you actually do it?”
Luna smiled. “See for yourself.” Her horn started glowing, and a surge of magic rapidly built to an intense crescendo.
Resisting the urge to protest as she had in the dream that it might be dangerous, Celestia tried to simply trust that Luna knew what she was doing and focused her attention on the moon. It was difficult through the flaring magical interference, but she managed. What her sister was doing now didn’t seem to be as severe this time around, at least.
For the briefest of moments, so quick she thought she might have only imagined it, she saw a faint shimmer of ethereal deep blue night sky and glints of starlight enmeshed in Luna’s cornflower mane and tail.
In that same split second, she also felt the moon shift its position—just barely, only a small nudge that jarred it out of place by a perceptual hair’s width, but enough to know that it happened.
It was the tiniest of movements, but in that moment, it couldn’t have felt more enormous.
“It’s true!” Celestia gasped.
“Well, I’ve only barely started,” Luna said. “And I’m still clumsy.”
“But even so!” Celestia felt breathless. “This is the breakthrough! And in my dream—” She peered at Luna. “How were you in my dream, for that matter?”
“That’s still a somewhat clumsy experiment as well,” Luna said. “It’s difficult to explain, exactly, other than that it… felt as if it came naturally, once I began working with the moon’s power. I used what I recalled from Cardinal Clover’s dreamwalking machine: simple telepathy and memory spell elements, but powered with lunar magical energy rather than the crystal arrays of her device. I think my version is more… organic? I’m still somewhat unclear about all the details myself, but I was working mostly by feel. A lot of it came to me intuitively once I started.”
“Interesting,” Celestia said. “Although I’m a little surprised you would be one to dreamwalk, after your experience.”
“I was wary of it myself at first, but I found it wasn’t the same.” Luna shook her head. “I felt like if you’d been dreaming something you didn’t want me to see, I would’ve been able to tell and I wouldn’t have entered. I didn’t think I was risking invading anything particularly private.”
“How could you tell, though?”
“I don’t know how.” Luna shrugged. “I only know that I could. Spells cast by a pony have a very different quality than the thaumotechnology of a machine, but the difference isn’t always easy to explain in precise ways.”
“I suppose that’s true enough.” Celestia nodded. “Well, we can worry about it later. For now, I think there’s a more important task at hoof.”
“What’s that?” Luna asked.
Celestia looked at Luna, fiery determination blazing in her rose-colored eyes. “Teach me how.”
☙ ☀ ❧
The moon was something primordial; something old and powerful beyond reckoning. She could sense the overall impression of it in her mind, vast and silent while it looked down at Equus from across space and emanated enough strength simply by existing to move entire oceans. It permeated the world, an omnipresent field that bathed everything.
Now she understood. Their assumptions had been wrong, so woefully, ignorantly wrong, this entire time. To access these powers wasn’t a matter of trying to reach out to them. It was the opposite. Just as the old journal had said, they were already here, all around her, waiting. She just had to let it come in. All it took was a call, the right kind of invitation, and the magical power of the moon bent, becoming focused as if through a lens, flowing into her from its diffuse field to form a concentrated torrent.
Opening herself to that power was like nothing she could have ever imagined. It felt like cold quicksilver rushing through her veins; a refreshing, energizing kind of brisk chill, more intense than chewing the strongest peppermint. She immersed in it, letting it saturate through every fiber of her being. The magical torrent obeyed her direction effortlessly, acting in concert with the magic of her horn in such perfect synchrony it was indistinguishable from her own. It was like drawing from her own natural well of magical energy, but made inexhaustible.
This power felt so vast, so limitless! She felt that her telekinesis, if she wanted to, could rip great ancient trees out of the ground, level thick stone buildings, tear apart huge swaths of the very earth beneath her hooves. Even the moon itself answered her call, moving if she commanded it.
Do you understand how it works now? Luna’s voice ran through Celestia’s thoughts.
Yes, I see how to do it. Celestia communicated back through the telepathic link they were sharing. I think I’m ready to try on my own.
Good. She felt the sense of intimate connection to the moon’s primal power blink out in an instant as Luna dropped the link.
“Thank you for showing me,” Celestia said, opening her own eyes now that she no longer had Luna’s perceptions to see through. She blinked a couple times while they readjusted to the light. “That was very helpful.”
“I enjoy having the chance to be the teacher sometimes.” Luna nodded. “It’s not often I get the opportunity. Though even if I hadn’t, I think you would have discovered what to do easily enough on your own. I did.”
“Still, it’s important. Every chance to learn from each other reduces our odds of making a dangerous mistake by having to guess,” Celestia said. “But the real test, of course, will have to wait until tonight.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Waiting for the rest of the day until after sunset was torturous for Celestia, with impatience blazing in her heart and making her restless. She alternated between pacing around aimlessly and trying to nap to make the crawling time pass by more quickly.
When the hour finally came, she found that the power of the sun was of a distinctly different character than the moon. Opening up to it was a similar process, but called for letting something else in, something that felt like pleasantly heated water flowing through every part of her at once, a warm bath of white-gold light saturating her body. It was something more dynamic and active, a sensation of heat and immediacy compared to the cold stasis of the moon’s long slow-turning cycles.
But as different as they felt, both were near-equal in the sense of incomprehensible power they lent. As she’d felt the moon do for Luna, the magical energy of the sun gathered into her as if bent to a focal point through a lens. The experience was new but familiar, commanding the vast well of energy becoming intuitive and second nature faster than she would have guessed possible. She almost thought she even felt a tingle in her cutie mark, though with the greater part of her concentration invested in focusing on that power running through her, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just her imagination.
Either way, it hardly mattered. This was the moment of truth. Was it better to be careful and slow? Or to dive in? Did she dare try to move it?
What choice was there, really? It had to happen some time. She bit her lip, almost shaking with anticipation…
And she dared.
It seemed wisest to start small, so her first effort was a timid nudge, the lightest touch she could manage. Nothing happened, the sun remained stuck where it was. It didn’t feel like the moon. This was a far larger mass, and she found that it demanded more.
So more she gave it. She pushed harder, gradually increasing the force bit by bit. Still, nothing.
Finally, right when her exertion began to feel almost worrying in its magnitude, she hit a breaking point. Like a rusty hinge cracking loose, the sun moved. It shifted its position just a bit, just a hair’s breadth.
As soon as she felt that movement, Celestia stopped, taken by surprise. With no experience to serve as a reference, it suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea if inertia would be a factor, especially in a mass so large, so she watched carefully for a tense few seconds, making sure that the sun was truly still once again. A sigh of relief escaped her when it held its position with no further intervention.
Her fear was quickly forgotten, replaced with a wide, triumphant smile on a beaming face that held the pure joy of a child.
I did it! I moved the sun!
She wanted to sing out in joy, scream in ecstatic triumph.
This was even better than the first time she’d discovered how to use telekinesis as a little filly. It brought the same kind of elation so sublime she felt like she could walk on air. Nothing else she could recall in her life had ever even been within a pale shadow of feeling this satisfying. Now she understood how Luna said she felt, and she agreed without reservation. This was what she was born to do.
Although her inner voice of responsibility said that Clover should have been told immediately, the accomplishment felt too good not to do some reveling in first. Celestia spent much of the rest of the night making small adjustments and manipulations to the sun. She moved it in straight lines, then eventually circles, figure eights, and experimented with her speed and finesse, all the while being careful to maintain it in a position on the far side of the planet so that it wouldn’t cast any unusual shadows or lights on the horizon. It wasn’t until about an hour before sunrise that she carefully parked it exactly where it was supposed to be and went inside to write a letter excitedly informing Clover of what she and Luna had accomplished.
She felt a little guilty about the delay while she wrote, and wondered if abandoning herself to enjoy playing with her newfound abilities instead of having discipline hadn’t been a mistake…
But she shrugged it off by the time she was signing and sending the letter. There was good reason to be proud and celebrate. They’d accomplished the impossible. After all the hard work and uncertainty, here was the payoff at last. What harm could it do to let herself have some fun, for once?
☙ ☀ ❧
“Mage Star Fire?” A voice, accompanied by the blue glow of a small communications portal spell and distorted with its characteristic distant reverb, came through in the darkness. “Mage, are you there?”
Star Fire lifted her head from her pillow, deep violet eyes remaining most of the way closed. “Who is this?” she snapped in a sharp, dry voice. “Explain why I’m being remotely called upon at—” She lit up her horn and glanced at a small clock “—3:09 in the morning. Explain now.”
“I’m– I’m sorry, mage,” the voice came through again. “This is Rose Quartz. Something’s been detected. It’s the kind of thing you left instructions to contact you about.”
Star Fire sat up a little. “What specific kind of thing?” she yawned.
“A massive energy signature,” Rose Quartz responded. “Per your directives, I’m contacting you first.”
“Where?” Star Fire straightened bolt-upright. “From your monitoring sector?”
“Yes, mage.”
“Are you sure nopony else has been informed?”
“I’m sure, mage. You’re the first.”
“Good.” Star Fire thought silently for a moment. “Go to my office,” she finally said. “Wait for me there. I will join you shortly. Speak to nopony. Do you understand?”
There was slight hesitation. “Yes, mage.”
Unceremoniously, Star Fire dispelled the communication portal, sending wispy blue magic scattering away into nothingness. A different spell was already building in her horn while she rolled out of bed and stood up, replacing the blue with deep purple light the color of her eyes. It was faint at first, but suddenly built up in intensity until she teleported out, vanishing with a bright flash and loud pop.
☙ ☀ ❧
“This can’t be right.” Star Fire, sitting at the desk in her cold office, scowled at the report in front of her. “Can it?”
“It was verified on independent detection systems, Mage.” The pale pink thaumite standing in front of Star Fire’s desk looked uncomfortable. “Three times. The odds of that many simultaneous false indications, all at the same high values, all at the same time…” She trailed off.
“Astronomically slim, yes.” Star Fire looked nonplussed. “But this kind of intensity of unaccounted for magic? Coming from middle-of-nowhere earth pony farmland? What do you make of it, Rose Quartz?”
“I’m sorry, Mage. I couldn’t even guess at a likely cause.” Rose Quartz shook her head, her snowy white mane rippling with the motion. “Thaumosciences has no large operations taking place anywhere near the area, and the characteristics don’t match well with any general class of unicorn magic or thaumomachinery there was available data to compare it to. It’s very unusual. I thought it could possibly be pegasi doing some sort of weather work, but this doesn’t look like any of their usual kinds of weather magic. When I checked with the Meteorological Controls Authority, they also said there’s nothing authorized in that area right now.”
“Well, if it’s not them, and it’s not us…” Star Fire leaned back and pondered for a moment. “But this particular area… could it…” Her voice trailed off while she stared up at the ceiling to her office. “Clover?” She scrunched her muzzle and frowned, making her already stern face seem even more severe. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense. She steals my thaumite, then this happens in the same place that… yes. Yes, it must be…”
“Must be what, Mage?” Rose Quartz asked quietly.
“It must be something that’s going to have to be looked into.” Star Fire said, suddenly leaning forward and standing up. “I want to see it for myself. I’m very curious to know what somepony is up to, out on this farm – this unremarkable, little, middle-of-nowhere farm, where nopony would think to look for strange magic.”
Star Fire started pacing, silently roving her eyes back and forth around the room for a few seconds with the predatory look of a prowling wolf.
“Rose Quartz.” She suddenly stopped in her tracks, staring sharply at the thaumite. “Contact the city guard and arrange for a detachment to accompany a Thaumosciences investigation. Tell them to expect the possibility that several arrests may need to be made, of both earth ponies and unicorns.”
Winter Wheat sat across from Celestia and Luna, eating breakfast with the two sisters. The morning was pleasant, with the sun barely poking above the horizon and its light coming in through the window to cast a warm beam over their simple meal of toast and honey.
“I’m glad to see you two looking better lately,” she said.
“Oh, yes, we’re much better, thank you.” Luna nodded and looked at her toast with a satisfied smile. “Things are finally starting to go well.”
Celestia also smiled, feeling an immense satisfaction being brought on by the sight of the rising sun after her successes during the night. “Yes, they—”
Sudden knocking on the front door of the farmhouse cut her off.
All three of them paused. Barely a second went by before the knocking repeated. It was loud, forceful, and insistent: the kind of knock that said it wasn’t a friend at the door.
“Are you expecting anypony?” Celestia asked quietly.
Winter Wheat immediately shook her head no.
“Hmmm.” Celestia scrunched her muzzle. Her horn glowed momentarily with subtle rose light while she cast a quick scrying spell, looking just outside the front wall of the house.
What she saw in the magical image it returned to her mind made her blood run cold. “Unicorns!” she gasped, eyes widening in fear, keeping her voice at a whisper. “One of them is Star Fire. There’s city guards with her!”
“What?” Luna’s ears pricked up. “Why? What are they doing here?”
“I don’t know!” Celestia’s voice was tense. She felt her breathing quicken, taking on a sudden edge of hazy near-panic.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good for us, can it?” Luna guessed.
Celestia shook her head. “I really don’t think we want to find out.” She looked across the table. “Winter Wheat… I know this may seem strange, but we need a favor, and we need it now. The two of us aren’t here. We don’t live here. You haven’t seen me in months, not since before I moved in, and you’ve never seen Luna. In fact, you don’t even know who she is.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Winter Wheat glanced at Celestia askance. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
More knocks thumped hard on the door, resounding through the farmhouse.
“I’ll explain later!” Celestia said. “I promise I will. But we need your help right now, and there’s no time. Please?”
“Umm…” Winter Wheat looked confused. “I… I guess if they don’t specifically mention you, I won’t say anything. Will they mention you?”
“I don’t think they will. At least, I hope not. Will you help hide us?” Celestia pleaded.
“As much as I can, without getting myself in trouble,” Winter Wheat said guardedly.
More knocking hammered the door, growing ever angrier and faster paced.
“Good enough! Thank you, that’s all I can ask.” Celestia looked at Luna. “In our room, quick!”
Luna nodded and the two of them started walking hurriedly to the back of the house. Celestia, making a sudden realization after a couple steps, turned back for a moment and grabbed her and Luna’s breakfast plates. She used her magic to carry them with her to their room, leaving only Winter Wheat’s place-setting on the table.
The second they were both in the room, Celestia carefully closed the door and did the only thing she could think of: she cast a soundproofing spell, replaying Clover’s trick at Chancellor Puddinghead’s office. As soon as she did, the noise of the knocking stopped, but the dead silence they were left in immediately made her realize the foible to this brilliant idea: just as much as the spell kept sound from leaving the room, it also kept it from coming in. They were effectively trapped with no way of knowing what was going on outside. Somepony could burst in at any second and they’d have no warning. The unintended effect struck her as a cruel irony; a spell which should have made her feel more hidden only cranked up her anxiety another couple notches.
Neither of the sisters spoke for a brief time.
“Well.” Luna flopped down on her bed, finally breaking the tense silence. “We’re in it now, aren’t we?”
“I’m afraid so.” Celestia paced the room slowly. “I’m sorry, Luna. Whatever happens, if this turns out badly, I hope they at least go easy on you. I’ll… I’ll tell them it was all my idea. I’m the older sister. I misled you because you were naïve and didn’t know better. That’ll be our story. Just play along, alright?”
She looked at her sister. Luna was young and innocent-looking, wasn’t she? Mostly grown, yes, but still just an apprentice, after all… past the cusp of being a mare in some ways, but still an impressionable filly in others. Or so Celestia desperately wanted herself to think Luna could be made to appear. She clung to straws of hope, trying to convince herself that even if her own horn was as good as cut off, maybe there was still a chance to buy some leniency for her little sister, if only—
“Oh, come on.” Luna rolled her eyes. “They’ll never believe that load. I’m more than old enough to understand what I’m doing and we both know it.”
The simple gust of reality blew down Celestia’s mental house of cards in an instant, forcing her to acknowledge her desperate folly for what it was. “I know,” she sighed, hanging her head.
“Look on the bright side.” Luna picked up the toast off her plate and took a bite while she patted Celestia on the withers. “At least we still have breakfast.”
☙ ☀ ❧
With her suddenly skittish tenants safely out of sight, Winter Wheat finally responded to the incessant angry knocking. She opened the front door a few inches, and a rushing blast of sub-zero dawn air instantly made her wish she hadn’t. Fighting through it, she looked outside and was unnerved to find herself facing a small crowd of unicorns. The closest one to her was tall, with a build that reminded her a little of Celestia, but with a pastel fuchsia coat and vibrant purple eyes. A second unicorn stood next to and slightly behind her, with a pink coat and a white mane that rolled in gentle waves. Both of them wore heavy winter cloaks. A half-dozen more flanked those two, wearing the intimidating armor of the city guard. They all looked identical except for little patches of coat color or small tufts of mane peeking out here and there.
Winter Wheat couldn’t believe it. Eight unicorns at her door! She’d never even seen so many in one place before in her life. And the Quartz City Guard… it made her worry. Something must have caused a big commotion to bring them all the way out here, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the middle of whatever it was. She’d never heard anything good about situations that the Guard got involved in, not for earth ponies.
“Can—” Winter Wheat’s voice cracked and caught in her suddenly very dry throat. She coughed. “Can I help you?”
“For your sake, I sincerely hope so,” the unicorn with the striking purple eyes responded. Her voice and humorless face, framed by a violet and crimson-streaked pin-straight mane, matched the frosty wind outside.
“I… I…” Winter Wheat’s jaw quivered and she found herself having trouble making it form coherent words. Heat in her ears and pulsing pressure in her head made her aware of just how unpleasantly fast her heart was beating. “…hope so too…”
“Your name,” the unicorn demanded. “What is it?”
“W– Winter Wheat, miss.”
“I see.” The unicorn’s stony face softened, and she smiled, for just a second, just barely enough to give Winter Wheat the faint hope she might not really be as bad as her exterior seemed at first. “Winter Wheat, my name is Star Fire. I’m a mage with the Thaumosciences Authority.” She pointed to the other unicorn next to her, the pink one with the white mane. “This is Rose Quartz, one of my thaumites.”
“Nice to meet you,” Winter Wheat offered.
“I’m sure.” Star Fire brushed off the pleasantries. “Do you know why we’re here?”
“No.” Winter Wheat shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t.”
“To put it in succinct terms even a mud-pony might have some hope of understanding, I’ll simply say this: unusual magic, and a lot of it.”
Winter Wheat was taken aback. “What about, umm… ‘unusual magic’?”
Star Fire gave Winter Wheat an impatient glare. “Has there been any? Here on your farm?”
Winter Wheat found herself at a loss. “…Should there have been?”
“Do not be obtuse with me.” Star Fire’s eyes narrowed to a withering gaze and her voice rose a small but unmistakable bit. “Answer my questions plainly.”
“I really don’t know!” Winter Wheat protested. “I mean, how would I?”
“Hmmm.” Star Fire narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Point. How would you indeed? How about this: have there been any unicorns here recently?”
“I, umm…” Tiny prickling drops of perspiration suddenly tingled on Winter Wheat’s skin, feeling like pinpricks of ice in the cold air. “It… that is, I’m not sure if… it’s sort of complica—”
A growl of contempt from Star Fire cut off Winter Wheat’s hemming and hawing. “You are being useless and evasive! Clearly we’ll have to look for the answers ourselves. You wouldn’t object to us coming inside for a moment, would you?”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t mind, except, it’s just, I’m really not ready for guests right now,” Winter Wheat said. “I’m about to start work.”
“You can spare a few minutes,” Star Fire insisted. “I’m sure of that.”
Winter Wheat took a deep breath and lifted her head, looking Star Fire in the eyes. She trembled like a leaf in the wind. “I. Said. No.”
“I don’t believe it.” Star Fire smirked, looking half annoyed and half amused. “Are you really going to do this the hard way, earth pony?”
Winter Wheat tried to put on as brave a face as she could. “You… you can’t just… barge in. You’re not a policemare.”
Star Fire gave her an incredulous look, then glanced in an arc behind her at the half dozen armored forms. “They are,” she pointed out. “All six of them.”
Winter Wheat cringed. “…Maybe, but still, don’t they need a… a warrant, or something, to make me let them in?” she tried.
“What a good question.” Star Fire just shrugged and moved aside, motioning to one of the guards. “Why don’t we see what they think?”
The nearest unicorn guard stepped forward. “I think you’re half right,” she said. Winter Wheat could tell it was a mare only by the sound of her voice from under the armor. “A search requires a warrant, or probable cause… and trying not to let us in makes me think you have something to hide, which is probable cause. You want to keep arguing, or do you want to make this easy on yourself? Just keep running your mouth. You’ll find out what we can make happen to you, mud pony. I’m telling you, if the mage wants to come in, she’s coming in, one way or another. Keep making it hard, and—”
“And what?” A booming voice suddenly cut through the guard’s threats.
Winter Wheat recognized the new voice, and the matching mane and tail of brilliant green curls and ringlets spilling from under a forest-green cloak as a form walked up from behind the group and pushed past the other unicorns.
Clover moved through the crowd and situated herself in front of the door, facing the guard. “You’ll do what to her? Hmmm?”
“Arrest her, to start with.” The guard raised her voice in anger. “And you too, for sticking your muzzle in it!”
“Oh! You’ll arrest the Royal Cardinal Mage?” Clover asked, staring down the guard with fiery gold eyes. “Really? Is that what you think you’ll do?”
“C– Cardinal Mage?” The guard stammered and flinched, backing away a step. She glanced at Star Fire. “We weren’t told a Cardinal would be here.”
“What’s your name, guard?” Clover continued, seeming determined to drill right through the mare’s soul with her unblinking gaze. “I want to see your ID. Show me your badge.”
The guard fell silent and looked around uncertainly, searching for a way to retreat.
Star Fire stepped forward and smoothly interposed herself between Clover and the cowed guard. “That won’t really be necessary, will it, Cardinal?” she asked, her tone suddenly soft and conciliatory. “Perhaps this is all a… misunderstanding. I’m sure we can clear it up without anything dramatic, can’t we?”
“Oh, I hope so,” Clover said. “Because I’d love to know what you think you’re doing here, Star Fire.”
“A simple investigation, Cardinal,” Star Fire said, in a carefully neutral voice. “Nothing more.”
“Why is it necessary to invade this poor pony’s home for a ‘simple investigation’?” Clover asked. “That doesn’t sound simple to me.”
“Because there was an unidentified magic signature detected in this area,” Star Fire said. “For the sake of everypony’s safety, I was trying to be… thorough… in rooting out the cause.”
“Unidentified magic?” Clover asked. “What, do you mean my long-distance teleportation experiments?”
Star Fire’s eyes opened wide in puzzlement. “You’re conducting teleportation experiments out here?”
“I am.” Clover nodded. “Which you are rather rudely interrupting at this very moment.”
Star Fire tilted her head at a slight angle and looked at Clover dubiously. “Forgive me, Cardinal, but this hardly seems like a place a mage of your caliber would choose to work.”
“On the contrary.” Clover smiled slightly. “Such a remote area, far from the city, with so much open space? It’s ideal for working on teleportation. That’s why I’ve leased the rights to use the land for magical experiments from my friend Winter Wheat here.” She pointed at the earth pony through the partly open door.
“You know this earth pony?” Star Fire glanced at Winter Wheat.
“Of course I do.” Clover nodded. “I just said I leased the right to run experiments on her farm, didn’t I?”
“Curious.” Star Fire scowled. “Why was no one informed about these ‘experiments’ you’re running?”
“Oh, pshhhh. Can you blame a mare for not wanting to fill out a pile of tedious paperwork?” Clover shrugged and waved in a dismissive gesture. “I wasn’t sure how much power would be used or that it would be so confusing to the detectors. Clearly it got a little out of hoof, and for that I’m sorry, but if the question had simply been asked reasonably, I would have explained. Instead, I see that for some reason you felt the need to poke at it without informing anypony higher up, and for a detachment of city guards to accompany you in looking into a minor event that shouldn’t merit this kind of heavy-hoofed response. Particularly not by an important mage such as yourself, who should no doubt be busy with many other more important things. Shouldn’t she?” Clover asked pointedly.
“As I said, simply being thorough,” Star Fire replied, with a defensive glare.
“Would you care to find yourself explaining to Princess Platinum why such thoroughness was a worthy use of the time of six city guards?” Clover asked.
Star Fire blanched. “Surely that isn’t something requiring the attention of the Princess herself.”
“Hmmm. Maybe not. I suppose that if no real incidents occurred, there’s no need for her to hear about anything,” Clover suggested. “I think you and these guards returning to the city quickly, without raising any further disturbances, would make this all very boring and unworthy of her time. Am I being understood here?”
“Yes, Cardinal.” Star Fire nodded once. “I… believe the thaumodetection readings have been satisfactorily explained. We’ll be returning to the city immediately.”
“Excellent.” Clover nodded back. “So that’s all settled, then.”
“Seems to be.” Star Fire turned and started walking, signaling to the rest of her group to follow. “Good day, Cardinal.”
Clover smiled dully. “Always a pleasure, Star Fire.” She watched Star Fire lead the group of unicorns away, trudging off in silence with her ears flat and her tail between her legs.
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia watched with a dull sense of unreal dread while the door latch slowly unhooked and started moving, manipulated from outside. For just a moment, she struggled in spite of herself not to giggle nervously. It reminded her of the contrived tension right before the jump-scare in cheap thriller novels, a scene out of some book far too pulpy to read with a straight face.
Things never really happened this way. Did they?
She was almost hyperventilating, her heart racing in her chest. The latch kept moving.
This is it. They’re coming.
She sprang to her hooves and jumped in front of Luna, shielding her sister behind her body and getting ready to take the brunt of the assault when the city guard breached the room. Adrenaline and fear shot through her, feeling like it made time slow down. She started readying a shield spell in her horn, barely even conscious of doing it.
The door swung open a few inches, so slowly it was painful, wrenching her deep down in her stomach. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. Any second now, they would—
“You can come out now, girls,” a muffled voice came from the other side of the gap, partially able to break through the soundproofing now that the door wasn’t fully shut. “The coast is clear. Star Fire and her goons are gone.”
“Cardinal Clover?!” It was the last pony Celestia expected to hear. She’d never felt so relieved so quickly, relaxing muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense.
“Yes, it’s—” There was a pause while somepony used a spell to dissipate the soundproofing magic “—it’s me,” Clover finished, now much louder.
Cautiously, Celestia peered around the partly open door. She was met by a pair of amused golden eyes staring back at her from under a mane of vivid green curly ringlets.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She exhaled with a shaky voice and swung the door open the rest of the way open. “I thought we were done for.”
“You would have been, if you hadn’t sent me a letter about your very interesting accomplishments.” Clover nodded. “Pretty lucky I decided to see your progress for myself and just barely showed up in time to handle Star Fire.”
“Why did you need to ‘handle’ her?” Winter Wheat demanded, thrusting herself into the doorway between Clover and Celestia. She was shivering with fright, but when she looked back and forth between the two unicorns, fire blazed in her eyes. “Why was she even here? What kind of trouble are you three getting me into?!”
“I… Ummm…” Celestia found herself tongue-tied. “…Guess we have some explaining to do…”
“You’re damned right you do!” Winter Wheat yelled and stomped her forehoof. “I want to know why a Thaumosciences mage and a half-dozen city guards showed up at my door, about to force their way into my house. I want to know now!”
All three of the unicorns standing around Winter Wheat looked shocked into embarrassed silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in her burning gaze.
More than just embarrassed, Celestia realized she was at a total loss. This was new territory. She’d never seen Winter Wheat being anything other than mild-mannered and amiable, and certainly never like this: the way the earth pony’s chest quivered, barely holding herself together on the edge of frightened tears, even while her face held unbridled anger…
And then a stark realization hit, stinging her conscience like a hard slap in the face. She realized why this gave them all such pause, and the reason filled her with deep, biting shame.
It was because earth ponies had no right to dare raise grievances to their unicorn overlords this way. This kind of emotional response was reasonable enough for any pony considering what had just happened, but an earth pony failing to show the proper deference to unicorns was an unforgivable transgression. An earth pony yelling and demanding answers from unicorns wasn’t an earth pony knowing her place. Not knowing her place was incredibly dangerous for an earth pony in a world full of unicorns who could sometimes be liable to telekinetically wring the neck or snap the limbs of any ‘lesser creature’ they felt had slighted them.
No, earth ponies were not free to do this, on pain of torture or death, and to drive one to such a point that it finally broke those deep-seated constraints of deferrence said a lot about how severely she’d been abused.
As agonizing slow seconds rolled by, Celestia watched as Winter Wheat’s terrible dawning awareness of the situation overpowered her cooling anger. Winter suddenly caught herself, putting a foreleg over her mouth in horrified realization. “I’m sorry…” she mumbled, suddenly shrinking back with her face flushing. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
“No.” Celestia reached out and touched her withers, stopping her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You’re right to feel the way you do, and to say what you did. You have the right to be angry. What we just did to you—what we’ve been doing to you all this time—we’re the ones who are wrong. Not you.”
Crushing disappointment with herself washed through Celestia. Her thoughts seethed. She should have realized what they were doing. After what she and Luna and Clover had struggled with, she, of all ponies, should have seen it!
Celestia’s heart sank, and she blinked down tears.
I let myself become what I hated.
Then a harder resolve started creeping in, steeling her back up. She looked at Clover, locking eyes for a moment.
“I’m telling her.”
“Telling her what?” Clover asked.
“Everything. We have to make this right. She has the right to know what risks we’ve brought on her.”
“That’s…” Looking taken aback, now it was Clover’s turn to be tongue-tied. “That’s not…”
“We have to,” Celestia said, sweeping the protest aside. “We can’t treat her or anypony else like this. Not if we want the kind of better world we’ve been working for. What’s the point if it’s all just going to be the same? What’s the point if we’re just going to keep using ponies like this? Either everypony deserves better, or this is all for nothing. It’s up to us. We’re choosing, right here, right now.”
Clover closed her eyes, then sighed and nodded. “Fine. Tell her, then.”
“Tell me what?” Winter Wheat demanded.
“Oh, where to even begin?” Celestia muttered, pondering. “Alright. You know I used to be a solarite, yes?”
“A sun-mover?” Winter Wheat replied. “Sure, I remember you telling me that.”
“Well, I suppose you could say I’ve taken it back up.” Celestia started slowly walking toward the chairs around the dining table. With things settling down and the adrenaline of her fright wearing off, she was getting tired and wanted to sit. “My focus in the experiments—the work we’ve been doing here—has been learning how to move the sun on my own. And Luna has been doing the same, with the moon. We’ve been trying for a long time. But yesterday… yesterday was a big day, because we both finally succeeded.”
“But…” Winter Wheat looked confused while she and the other two unicorns followed Celestia to the dining area and sat down. “But the Unicorn Kingdom has big machines to do that, don’t they? I don’t understand, why would you…?”
“That’s a good question.” Celestia nodded. “And that’s where this is going to get complicated. The simple version is because there’s no future for anypony if we don’t.”
“I think you’d better make some sense out of this.” Winter Wheat frowned and crossed her forelegs in front of her. “Because I don’t get it.”
“Alright.” Celestia nodded. “Let’s start with that mage you just saw, Star Fire. She’s an important part of this. I used to be one of the thaumites who worked for her. She had me doing a lot of climate research in the field, specifically how climate change is related to earth pony magical capacity. Remember when I used to come out here to the farm all the time, gathering data with you? That’s what I was working on. But then she shifted me to more directly investigating the mechanisms of earth pony magic itself. When that happened, she told me the real reason for what I was doing. It was to help eventually develop a synthetic version of earth pony magic, one that unicorns could use.”
“Huh?” Winter Wheat blinked. “Why would a unicorn want to copy our magic? They could just ask us to use it. They always have.”
“They’d copy it so that unicorns don’t need to ask earth ponies for anything anymore. Don’t you see?” Celestia sighed. “Unicorns control the sun and the moon. If they can take over growing food, too, they’ll have even more power. The idea is to try to be able to make up for trade shortfalls with the pegasi. At least that’s a short term goal. Long term, unicorns may just take over all farming completely. There’s a lot of pressure to do it, too, right now particularly, because with the world turning colder… every year’s getting worse… the truth is, they’re almost out of time to figure it out before it’s too late. It’s a crisis, and a crisis can be used as an excuse to seize opportunities that would normally require unacceptable methods. And if they seize this one, what it means for earth ponies is not good.”
“Why? What does it mean?”
“It means there won’t be any more earth ponies,” Celestia said bluntly. “Not if the Unicorn Kingdom has its way. Once they’ve completely reverse engineered how their magic works, the current idea is to secretly sterilize them. Let them die off naturally of old age with no new foals. In a few decades they’ll all be gone without so much as a fight.”
“What?! No!” Winter Wheat was visibly shaken. “We’ve… we’ve always lived alongside unicorns! We’ve always done what they wanted! Why would the Kingdom do something like that to us?!”
“I’m not sure.” Celestia shrugged. “Politics. Pragmatism. Desperation. A mix of all three. Ask Princess Platinum. She knew about this. She’s the one who wanted it. But I can tell you why Star Fire’s determined to be the one to deliver it: because it’ll mean a nice promotion for her.”
“A promotion?” Winter Wheat looked aghast. “That’s all we’re worth to her?!”
“I’m afraid so,” Clover spoke up. “I’ve known Star Fire a long time, unfortunately, and believe me, that’s the kind of pony she is, which is why she must never be allowed to have the kind of power she’s after. It’s why we’re going to stop her, and keep all of this from happening.”
“How?”
“That brings us back to why we’re learning to move the sun and moon,” Celestia said. “If we can take control of those, then we have the leverage we need to prevent it. We can ensure that earth ponies have a future somewhere, instead of having to face being silently wiped out.”
“What do you mean ‘somewhere’?” Winter Wheat glanced at her askance.
“What she means is that we believe there are still grasslands far in the South, closer to the equator, that would make excellent new settlements,” Luna said. “We understand that many ponies may not like leaving, but… the North is freezing. This land is dying. It’s clear at this point. Earth ponies—maybe all ponies—are going to die with it if somepony doesn’t do what it takes to find a new home somewhere else. South is our best chance.”
“And you know this because…?”
Luna stopped, looking suddenly unsure.
“Because we both had a vision of it.” Celestia cleared her throat. “In a dream. I… I know that sounds ridiculous…”
“You’re right, it does sound ridiculous,” Winter Wheat said flatly, shifting her crossed forelegs across her chest. “All of this sounds crazy.”
“But it’s the only way,” Clover insisted. “Obviously we can’t just do nothing and let—”
“No.” Celestia held up a hoof for silence. “It’s alright.”
She turned back to Winter Wheat. “You’re right. This is crazy. We don’t have any non-crazy options left. But that doesn’t excuse what we’ve done. We’ve treated you… well, the way unicorns always treat earth ponies, like we’re entitled to use you for whatever we want. And I’m embarrassed. We’re so used to it I think we were all blind, but now we need to start seeing. What we’re doing is incredibly risky, and we should never have brought those risks on you without giving you a choice. It’s not fair. I’m truly sorry it took such a rude awakening from Star Fire to make me understand that.”
“You can say that again,” Winter Wheat grumbled.
“I’m so sorry, Winter Wheat,” Celestia said quietly, not quite able to look her in the eyes. “I actually thought I was your friend, but I realize I’ve been just about the furthest thing from one, haven’t I?”
“I thought you were, too,” Winter Wheat hung her head sadly, “until now.”
“Well, this has to change. We’ve put you in enough danger.” Celestia pushed back in her chair and stood up. “And the longer we stay, the more you’ll be in. We’ll leave. If we intend to start acting like true friends, that’s the best thing we can do for you now.”
“I’ll draw up some paperwork to make my teleportation experiment story airtight.” Clover nodded. “I can handle Star Fire. You won’t need to worry about her. I’ll make sure she won’t be back.”
“I sure hope not,” Winter Wheat said.
Celestia looked at the other two unicorns. “Shall we?”
Clover and Luna nodded wordlessly. The three of them stood up and Celestia led the way as they filed toward the shared bedroom, preparing to gather their few things and go.
Winter Wheat stood and watched, unmoving, until they were halfway to the door.
“Wait!” she finally cried, breaking the heavy, awkward silence in the house.
Clover turned to look at her. “What?”
“Look.” Winter Wheat closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Just tell me one thing. Honestly. Is all this stuff true? Is the Unicorn Kingdom really going to do what you said to earth ponies?”
“Unless we stop them, yes.” Clover nodded. “They’re trying, and they’ll probably succeed, sooner or later.”
“And do you still need a place to work?” Winter Wheat asked. “Somewhere outside the city?”
“We have most of the basics of our plan figured out, I think, but we could certainly use more time to refine and develop our abilities,” Celestia said.
Luna nodded in agreement.
Winter Wheat sighed. “…Then stay.”
“Stay?” Celestia wrinkled her muzzle.
“Stay.” Winter nodded.
Celestia paused and cocked her head curiously. “Why would you let us?”
“Look.” Winter Wheat rolled her eyes. “I may not be happy about what just happened, but I guess at least your heart is in the right place. And now that I know anyway, staying here instead of going somewhere else might keep somepony else from having to find out the hard way, right?”
“You’re really willing to help us, even knowing how much of a risk you’d be taking?” Clover asked. “I can keep Star Fire from coming back in person, but as long as we’re here, she’ll do whatever she can to watch this place like a hawk. I’m sure of that.”
Clover turned to Luna and Celestia. “Now that I think about it, this also puts us in even more of a time situation, unfortunately. She’ll be getting desperate, because ironically she almost certainly thinks I’m trying to beat her to the punch in unravelling earth pony magic. Probably thinks I want all the glory for myself, which will make her worried about being shut out of a promotion yet again. What other conclusion could she logically draw from the fact that I’m one of the few other Mages who knows about this plan, and that I snatched away one of the best thaumites working on earth pony magic research from right under her muzzle?”
“Oh.” Luna half-closed one eye in thought. “I didn’t even think about that at first, but it makes sense. We’ll really have to race against her now, won’t we?”
“Yes, and it’ll be narrow margins of error, all the way to the finish line.” Clover looked back at Winter Wheat. “You’re sure you want to chance going up against somepony like her? Not that I’m ungrateful for your help, but you need to know what we’re in for. I won’t deny for a second that Star Fire is conniving and dangerous and could still be the end of us all.”
“Well, as scary as she is, I think I have to, because… because it’s not just for me!” Winter Wheat drew herself up, with the look of a pony trying to act braver than she felt. “It’s for the foals I want someday. They’ll never be born if I let the Unicorn Kingdom have their way, will they?”
“Winter Wheat…” Celestia walked over and hugged her. “You’ll have those foals. I promise, we will not let the future be stolen from you – even if we have to move the heavens themselves.”
Clover, Celestia, and Luna trudged through a desolate field, pushing their way through a blanket of fresh white powder nearly half a meter thick and still piling up with flakes pouring from the sky. Their hoofsteps were exaggerated, lifting high to get above the snow before plunging back down, making what would have been an easy walk into hard work. In these conditions, Celestia was finding the old cold-weather adage—It’s not so bad if you just keep moving—to have some problems with the details in distribution: the exertion and the phoenix feathers in her cloak were making her back and sides uncomfortably warm and sweaty, while her legs were freezing.
“If only the cloudwalking spell you had us learn also worked on snow,” Luna huffed, looking up at the gray sheet of rolling clouds covering the entire sky. Large flakes drifting down through the air settled on her long eyelashes, glittering there like white crystals before she blinked them away. “This weather team is really laying it down, aren’t they?”
“Makes better cover for us.” Clover had no problem talking while she continued striding along easily. Celestia didn’t quite understand how the cardinal wasn’t tiring out like they were. It was all she could do to try and keep up.
Clover pushed another few hundred meters into the heart of the blizzard, then finally stopped. She looked around, appraising their position. “Right, this should be close enough.”
Celestia noticed intermittent flittering movements overhead, silhouetted forms darting between cottony billows of gray clouds like candy-colored dragonflies. She realized they were pegasi. It made her nervous. She’d never actually seen one in person, except once or twice through a telescope. Even then, it was always across such a huge distance that the flier was barely anything but a dark speck against the sky, drifting lazily upward on a thermal in a slow spiral.
But she had a general impression of what they were like – at least so far as could be gathered from the stories.
There were a lot of stories.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Celestia’s voice shook a bit with apprehension.
“Well, the arrangements are made, and we’re already here.” Clover’s horn started glowing and she shot a fountain of rainbow sparks into the air, sending a bright signal flare a hundred meters high. “It’s a little late to back out now.”
Seconds passed in silence while the three unicorns waited. One of the pegasi started descending towards them. Tiny and distant at first, the pegasus was followed by another larger object Celestia couldn’t immediately identify. As it closed in, she started to be able to see that the pegasus was a mare, and the object following her was some sort of cart, being drawn through the air by two other pegasi harnessed side by side.
The lead pegasus folded her wings partway and stooped like a falcon, diving with forelegs held straight out in front of her and hind legs trailing behind. The three unicorns watched while she accelerated to a high speed, then in the final stretch, suddenly flared her wings and flapped to airbrake herself and pull up, sending the falling snowflakes swirling around to either side of herself in twin vortices. She lowered her legs under her body and touched down gracefully on the snow, sinking into it as she landed.
The pegasus took a few steps toward the unicorns, stopping about ten meters away. She sized each of them up swiftly with darting pale green eyes. Celestia had difficulty making out her precise features, thanks to her coat being as white as the snow she stood in. Entangled snowflakes sparkled in her blue mane and long dark eyelashes like tiny stars.
“You’re the unicorns I’m supposed to pick up?” she finally asked. Although she spoke the common language, her voice had an exotic accent that Celestia couldn’t place. The logic in her head supposed this might just be how all pegasi spoke, after such a long cultural divide from ground-living races.
“That’s us.” Clover nodded. “I’m Clover. This is Celestia, and Luna.”
“Alright, cool.” The pegasus nodded back. “I’m Gale Winds. Cart’s right behind me.”
True to her word, the cart landed a few seconds later. The two pegasi pulling it, a mare and a stallion, didn’t speak. They just stood and waited, stomping the snow and looking around at nothing in particular while they periodically exhaled clouds of foggy white breath. Celestia noticed with surprise that none of the pegasi were wearing any clothes, seemingly totally unfazed by the winter weather.
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Gale Winds waved the unicorns to the cart while she opened the back gate. Clover walked over to it and climbed in, followed by Luna and Celestia. Gale Winds unceremoniously closed and latched the gate once they were inside.
“Hold on to something. Here we go!” She took off and started flying upward at a leisurely pace. The cart jolted when the two harnessed pegasi took off after her lead, shaking the three unicorns and sending them bumping into each other awkwardly until the flight smoothed out and they regained their balance. Freezing wind and stinging snow whipped around them with increasing ferocity as they built up speed and moved higher into the storm.
Gale Winds flew a short distance ahead, clearing the way through the rough weather for the cart. After a few minutes, they were soaring up and punched through the cloud cover, past other pegasi working on the blizzard, then they were over the clouds in calm blue skies. Above the storm, conditions were much better. The sun shined down on them with a little bit of welcome warmth as they travelled onward toward their far-off destination.
☙ ☀ ❧
After several hours of flight, Cloudopolis, the great pegasus city, came into view. Celestia was awestruck by the way it looked like everything Quartz City was not. The architectural differences were night and day: Where Quartz City imparted a fortress-like sense of solidness with heavy stone walls, most of the structures making up Cloudopolis were ringed arrangements of pillars, spires, or ionic columns supporting a light roof, or even no roof, making the city open and airy. Instead of marble or granite, structures were made from what Celestia recognized as cloudstone. It was as hard as rock, but being made from cloud, still passed some light through it. Like the pegasi themselves, this substance was something she’d heard about, but never seen up close before. Mere descriptions and ink sketches in books couldn’t do justice to the effect it created. Everything seemed to glow in the sun, filled with glorious light. Whatever the pegasi themselves proved to be like, Celestia couldn’t deny the breathtaking beauty of their city.
The cart flew in and landed while Celestia and Luna both looked around in wide-eyed silence. Pegasi flew back and forth in every direction, organizing themselves into ad hoc flight lanes between huge clouds floating both above and below where the cart had stopped. Where unicorns sprawled their construction horizontally, it seemed the pegasi also did so vertically, taking advantage of all three dimensions of space. Celestia silently admired the efficiency, and the way this made natural sense for a race endowed with flight.
Gale Winds walked around the cart and opened the back gate. Clover stood up and immediately jumped out. Celestia’s heart leapt into her throat for a split second, with terrible visions of the cardinal dropping through the clouds like a stone and plunging to her certain death. Fortunately, when she hit the white fluff it supported her as if it was solid ground.
Celestia stood at the back of the cart and reached out with a forehoof, poking cautiously at the fluff. To her relief, the cloudwalking spell seemed to be working. She stepped out gingerly, testing more of her weight on it until she was sure it would hold her. It felt pillowy and soft under her hooves, but firm enough to walk on easily.
Luna followed, equally hesitant at first but quickly gaining confidence once it was clear she wasn’t going to fall through.
“Nice magic trick,” Gale Winds commented. “Had me worried for a second there. I was wondering if I was about to have to move quick to catch you.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Clover nodded. “But we’ll be fine.”
Gale Winds looked around. “Somepony here to see you.” She pointed across the cloud to a pegasus walking towards them.
“As expected.” Clover nodded. “We’ll need to speak to this contact in private, if that’s alright.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Gale Winds shrugged. “Go. Talk. We’ll wait here for you here, whenever you’re ready for the return trip.”
“Thank you.” Clover started walking over to meet the other pegasus with Celestia and Luna following close behind her.
The approaching pegasus was wearing a blued steel chestplate over her pink coat. Her blonde mane was pulled up through the top of a matching helmet to form a thick crest. “Excuse me. Are you the cardinal mage? Clover the Clever?” She had a surprisingly soft voice with the same accent as Gale Winds, and studied the group intently with her copper-colored eyes.
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “That’s me, and these are my colleagues, Celestia and Luna.”
“My name is Pansy. Welcome to Cloudopolis. I’ve been expecting you. I’m an adjunct from Commander Hurricane’s office. She sent me to receive you and take your message.”
“Message?” Clover looked nonplussed. “Oh. I see. I was hoping… well, fine. Where can we talk privately?”
“Oh, um, over there should be fine.” Pansy pointed to a flat square area of a cloud that had been shaped into a small open-air forum surrounded by pillars, currently empty of any other ponies.
Clover nodded and the group walked to the forum. There were some benches, carved from cloudstone with fluffy normal cloud on top as cushioning. Once they sat down, Clover cast a soundproofing spell, enclosing them in a sphere of silence to the outside.
Clover spoke first. “May I ask your rank, Pansy?”
“Private,” she replied.
“A private?” Clover sighed with exasperation. “Not even an officer. I ask Commander Hurricane for a meeting, she says, ‘sure, I’ll arrange a cart, fly on out!’ …and then she sends a private to take a message?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Pansy said with downcast eyes. “But Commander Hurricane is very busy, and—”
“No, no.” Clover waved it off. “It’s not your fault, Private Pansy. I suppose I should have known I’d get brushed off.”
“Again, I’m very sorry,” Pansy continued. “But as I said, I can take a message and get it back to Commander Hurricane for you. What should I tell her is your business in Cloudopolis today?”
“Our business?” Clover stared at Pansy, incredulous. “An impending major power shift in the Unicorn Kingdom, which she needs to know about. That’s our business.”
“Well, that sounds serious,” Pansy said. “I’m sure she’ll be wanting to get back to you about something like that. Are there any further details I should tell her?”
“Probably not that she’d believe,” Clover muttered. She stood up and paced for a few seconds. “Not without—”
She stopped suddenly. “You know what? A message. Yes. Actually, I think a message might be just the thing. And I think I know how to send it.”
Clover gave Celestia a meaningful look, and nodded her head up at the sun.
“You’re going to have to make it move,” she said.
Celestia was silent for a moment, trying to decide if she’d heard correctly. “It’s the middle of the day,” she pointed out. “The solarites at the thaumocontroller will notice for sure. There’ll be an uproar. Probably a big investigation while they try to figure out what happened and who did it. We’d be at least partly tipping them off and showing them the most important card in our hoof.”
“I know.” Clover sighed. “But we don’t have a choice, because it’s even more important to show that card to somepony up here. You heard the pony. We need a message for Commander Hurricane. It needs to be one she can’t ignore.”
“Excuse me, but, umm, what did you say you’re going to move?” Pansy asked, quietly alarmed.
“Just watch the sky, Private Pansy.”
“You’re really sure about this?” Celestia asked.
“It’s the only way I can think of for us to get Hurricane’s attention,” Clover replied. “And we have to succeed here, whatever it costs us. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”
“Fine.” Celestia nodded. “If we must, then we must.”
“Hey, just a second!” Pansy demanded, moving to position herself in front of Clover. “Listen to me!”
All three unicorns fell silent, their attention suddenly focused on her.
“Explain what you’re doing. I was told you were only here to talk. Nopony said anything about magic or moving things. We have strict regulations about that kind of thing! If you’re about to do something that might break Cloudopolis law, I should warn you that I might have to arrest you!” she announced as sternly as she could in her soft voice. “It would be, umm… very unpleasant!”
She stared down the unicorns, chest puffed and wings quivering.
“Alright, alright, I’ll explain,” Clover relented. “No need to get excited. My colleague is going to move the sun.”
Terrible an idea as it may be, Celestia thought.
“Everypony’s going to wonder what in Tartarus just happened, including Commander Hurricane,” Clover continued, “so you’ll go explain to her that we’re responsible, and that it’s extremely urgent that we speak to her immediately because this is a sign of an imminent massive power shift in the Unicorn Kingdom, which will be of vital strategic importance to the Cloud Empire. With my crazy magical unicorn powers of prognostication, AKA common sense, I predict that a miracle will occur and she’ll suddenly find the time to meet with the three of us. Now… just to make sure, none of that is illegal, is it?”
“Oh.” Pansy nodded, wide-eyed. “Uhh, okay. I— I guess that’s…”
“Thank you.” Clover smiled warmly at Pansy, then turned to Celestia. “If you would, please?”
Celestia nodded. She focused on her horn, opening herself to the ever-present field of solar magic. The inrush was immediate and dramatic, even moreso than usual. For the past two weeks of practice since first learning how, she’d only done this at night during the times when her experiments and manipulations would go unnoticed. The sun lent her power enough even when the entire planet had been in the way. Now, with a clear path, it felt even easier and freer flowing.
She thought it felt limitless before. But this! This was even more incredible!
Taking the sun in her grasp was like the comforting embrace of a warm bath on a cold day. Relishing the chance to soak in it, to bathe in its power, she started moving it. But something fought against her, in a way she’d never encountered at night: The sun felt like a ball attached to a mesh of strong springs, and the more she tried to pull it away in any direction, the stiffer the resistance became as it was yanked back to its original position. She realized it was the thaumocontroller trying to fight her and keep the sun on its assigned track.
She scowled under her glowing horn. This wasn’t right. The sun was hers. Hers! This interference would not stand! Clover had said it was time to send a message, and with sudden jealous resolve burning fiercely in her mind, Celestia agreed.
Send a message? Yes. I will send a message!
She resolved that she would send a message indeed – she would show everypony what destiny had decreed, and who was truly meant to harness the glorious sun.
Nothing else for it, now, anyway.
And so, terrible idea or not, she threw the gates of magic open with wild abandon. All her being surged with the solar energy she drew into herself. The glow of her horn, already so intense it was hard to look at, became even more blindingly actinic and shifted from the rose color of her irises to the brilliant white-gold of sunlight. Her mane and tail began to drift lightly in the air, floating on some unfelt ethereal breeze. Gentle shimmers of green and blue appeared, mingling with the usual pink color. Her eyes started glowing bright white, abundant stray magic pouring out through them to manifest as thaumoradiant emission.
The competing grip on the sun felt feeble to her now in comparison to her own power. She made her move and wrenched it loose, tearing and brushing away the tattered remains of the machine's grip and revelling in the control she now possessed. It yielded solely to her, and she pushed the sun without any resistance.
Triumph rose in her heart. The sun is mine!, she wanted to cry out, to scream loud enough for all the world to hear.
Still, she knew it would be a victory tempered by fleetingness. The thaumocontroller was still out there, and it groped like a pony fumbling in the dark, trying persistently to reestablish its grasp. Although she easily kept it at bay for now, she could feel it clamoring for what she held. The prize was hers for but a moment. Soon, grudgingly, she would have to let go and give it back.
But not yet.
Not yet!
So she savored the seconds. For a just few wonderful, incredibly satisfying moments, she drove the sun wildly through the sky however she wanted.
She sent her message.
☙ ☀ ❧
Fifteen minutes later, in a spacious office in one of the few walled buildings of Cloudopolis, the three unicorns stood before a large cloudstone desk.
A pegasus mare in ornately chased shining steel armor glared at them from behind it. Her blue-green eyes and stone face were difficult to read, making Celestia apprehensive about not being able to tell if she was impressed or enraged.
Nopony moved. Celestia and Luna were too nervous, and Clover seemed to know better. From behind her desk, Commander Hurricane just stared for a few more seconds.
“Do you think that stunt of yours was clever?” Hurricane finally asked, breaking the tense silence.
“Clever is what they call me,” Clover replied.
Hurricane frowned and crossed her forelegs across her chest. “I see you’ve still got a smart mouth, too.”
“Like a fine wine, Commander.” Clover shrugged apologetically. “It only seems to get better with age, I’m afraid.”
“Obviously.” Hurricane chuckled with a crooked half-smile. “Gonna get you in real trouble one of these days, though. You know that, right?”
“Well, they call me—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hurricane cut Clover off with a wave of her hoof. “Clever, not wise.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Clover asked. “We’re here in your office, instead of being dismissed by your errand-mare private.”
“Hey! You show some respect for my soldiers,” Hurricane barked back. “Pansy’s not just an errand-mare. She may not be high-ranking, but I trust her with a lot of responsibilities. Her job wasn’t to get rid of you, it was to evaluate you. She’s one of my personal adjuncts because she’s good at screening who’s going to waste my time and who isn’t. But obviously, you thought it would be better to short-circuit the process with magic stunts, so here we are.”
“Sorry.” Clover shrugged.
“Well, what’s done is done, and you have my attention now, so…” Hurricane held up a hoof and rolled it slowly in a get-on-with-it gesture.
“Right.” Clover nodded and cleared her throat. “To get straight to the point, we’re here because we need your help, Commander.”
“Oh yeah? With what?”
“We need an army,” Clover said. “And you have the best one there is.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Hurricane raised one eyebrow. “What does a unicorn cardinal mage need a pegasus army for?”
“For keeping the Unicorn Kingdom’s army off our back.”
“Interesting. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like someone’s turning rebel,” Hurricane said.
“Huh.” Clover rolled her eyes in thought. “You know, that’s what Chancellor Puddinghead said, too.”
“Oh, Puddinghead? Rousing the earth pony rabble too, are we? Trouble down there amongst the ground-dwellers?” Hurricane asked. “Or has being a powerful wizard finally gone to your head enough that you think you should be the one in charge of it all?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Clover shook her head. “The truth is, I’m sorry to say we’re having a Platinum problem. She’s taken some very foalish ideas into her head, and they’re not going to end well. My colleagues and I need some cover while we fix what needs fixing. I was hoping you’d be willing to hear us out and understand why helping us is a good idea, for your sake as much as ours.”
“I’ll give you a chance to explain. But as much as Platinum isn’t my favorite pony, I have to tell you upfront it’s going to be hard to justify fielding an army in a way that threatens hostilities with the Unicorn Kingdom.” Hurricane frowned. “The Cloud Empire has a long-standing deal with them, as you’re well aware, and that deal is not lightly trod upon.”
“You might have noticed that my colleagues have gained control of the sun,” Clover pointed out.
“And?” Hurricane asked.
“The world is changing, Commander. There’s a new deal now.”
Every pony in the room looked at Celestia and the ethereal streaks which had still not fully faded from her mane.
“Alright.” Hurricane leaned forward, ruffling her wings for a moment before she settled them at her sides. “I’m listening.”
☙ ☀ ❧
After the end of Clover’s explanation, Hurricane sat quietly for a few moments. “So… no more earth ponies,” she finally commented, her voice carefully neutral.
“That’s the gist.” Clover nodded.
“Kinda messed up.” Hurricane shook her head. “I’ve seen the Unicorn Kingdom do some sketchy stuff in my time, but this is way out there.”
“So you’ll help us take them south?” Celestia asked hopefully.
“I don’t know yet.” Hurricane shrugged. “From what I’ve seen, you obviously have progress made on the start of an ambitious plan, but I’d also like to see something more before I commit to possibly risking open hostilities with the Unicorn Kingdom. I want to know you’ll actually get this thing off the ground once push comes to shove. I want to know if there’s really something here.”
“What gives you reason to doubt?” Clover asked.
“What have you really shown me so far?” Hurricane asked in return.
“Enough to get us into your office,” Clover pointed out. “Enough for you to see that the sun is under new management.”
“It looked that way, for a few minutes,” Hurricane said. “But you have to admit it’s hard to verify whether that stunt is repeatable, and in any case a few minutes hardly tears down and redefines one entire side of the economic triangle. It’s not exactly like you’re the only game in town. What about the Thaumosciences Authority and all their mages? What about the thaumocontroller?”
Luna stepped forward. “We will deal with those in the proper time,” she said.
“And when is the proper time?” Hurricane peered at her.
“Soon,” Luna asserted confidently.
“Oh?” Hurricane’s ears perked up. “It sounds like you have a plan for that, too.”
“Of course we do.” Clover smiled slightly, presenting a confident front alongside Luna.
Celestia was aware of no such plan, but she played along and said nothing, standing fast next to Luna and Clover and trying to put on as fearless and certain a mask as they were wearing.
“Care to fill me in?” Hurricane asked.
“I think it’s best kept between us, for now,” Luna said, indicating herself, Celestia, and Clover. “But I promise this: We will seize the sun, as surely as we stand in front of you right now. And when we do, everypony will know it.”
“Alright…” Hurricane gave them a curious look and raised one eyebrow. “I’ll give you the chance. Impress me. Do what you’re going to do, come back here, and show me. If you can do your part, I’ll do mine and the Cloud Empire will help you take those earth ponies south.”
“Deal!” Clover nodded vigorously. “Thank you, Commander. I knew you’d be reasonable. Much more than Puddinghead, anyway.”
“Ha!” Hurricane chuckled. “If you’re trying to flatter me, you might want to set a higher bar than comparing me to the chubby chancellor.”
“Oh, I’d love nothing more than to try again for old times’ sake, but regrettably, we really should be going,” Clover said. “Our cart is waiting, and it’s a long flight back. And I’m sure you have other pressing matters to attend to. I’m afraid it’s time to say good day, Commander.”
“Right, then.” Hurricane gave them a nod. “I’m not sure if I’m terrified or looking forward to seeing how this all plays out. Good day, Cardinal. Celestia. Luna.”
The three unicorns turned and walked out of the office.
After a few minutes of walking across the cloudscape back toward their waiting cart, Clover spoke once they were alone. “So that went well, I think,” she said.
“For the most part, yes,” Celestia replied. “Although I wasn’t aware that we had any specific plan yet.”
“Nor was I.” Clover shook her head and looked sidelong at Luna. “Thinking on our hooves, were we?”
“Sorry,” Luna said sheepishly. “But you said we had to succeed here, whatever it took, and deal with the consequences later. It seemed like a plan was what Commander Hurricane was looking for, so I thought we’d better give her what she wanted.”
“Well, you’ve certainly given us an interesting consequence to deal with,” Clover said. “You two are the sun- and moon-moving experts. How fast do you girls think you can come up with a plan?”
“Actually, I wasn’t entirely bluffing back there.” Luna grinned. “I already have something in mind…”
“There.” Celestia set down a stack of boxes with her telekinesis. “That’s the last of the packing.”
“I’m sorry to see you go.” Winter Wheat looked around what used to be the sisters’ shared bedroom, now a storage space once again. “As upset as I was about Star Fire, I liked having you and your sister around. It’s always been just me before you two moved in.”
“And I liked being here.” Celestia nodded. “Our house in the city may have more conveniences, but this has more of a heart, if that makes any sense.” She looked around the room and sighed. “But we’ve done all we can here, and it’s time for us to finish what we started.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve noticed Miss Clover hasn’t been around these last few days,” Winter Wheat said.
“No, she hasn’t.” Celestia shook her head. “She has her own part to play, and it’s keeping her busy elsewhere for now. We’ll be without her guidance for a little while.”
“Alright. I just wondered if she would come around because I wanted to offer to return part of the rent to her, since she put up the bits and your last month here hasn’t been a full one. I don’t suppose you could deliver it to her?”
“No, don’t worry about that.” Celestia smiled. “Keep it. You’ve more than earned it.” She hugged Winter Wheat. “Thank you, for all you’ve done for us.”
Winter Wheat returned the hug. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I don’t know,” Celestia said. “I hope so, but I honestly just don’t know. I can’t say how things will turn out from here.”
“I worry about you,” Winter Wheat fretted, forelegs still wrapped around Celestia’s neck.
“I know.” Celestia nodded. “And that caring nature is why you’ll be a great mother someday. That’s why we have to do what it takes to make sure you get to have that chance.”
“Thank you.” Tears started gathering in Winter Wheat’s eyes. “Is there any way I’ll know if you’re okay? How will I know if it worked?”
“In a few days,” Celesia said wistfully, “whether or not we succeed will be clear to you and all the rest of the world. What we have to do... it won’t leave room for a single shred of doubt.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“How was your day?” Luna asked as Celestia emerged onto the observation deck from inside their house.
“Strange.” Celestia shut the door behind herself and looked around. Their shared house in Quartz City was exactly as they’d left it when they’d moved to Winter Wheat’s farm. Being back home again felt like the fit of an old well-worn shoe, but what was coming left something lurking, a pebble stuck uncomfortably underneath it.
“How so?” Luna asked. “Doesn’t it feel good to be working at the solar thaumocontroller again?”
“I’m assisting the other solarites with the investigation into my own caper with the sun.” Celestia shook her head. “They’re in a panic over it. It’s all they think about, all they talk about. Nopony has a clue who or what could have torn away control. They’re monitoring around the clock, watching in case it happens again. I knew going back to the solar thaumocontroller would be different than before, after what we had to do in Cloudopolis, but it’s even more tense than I imagined.”
“I can’t say I blame them,” Luna said.
“Yes, in their position I would be panicking also,” Celestia agreed. “How are things for you?”
“The lunarites are concerned as well, of course,” Luna said. “They’re also monitoring the moon continually, but I don’t see a sense of panic. Then again, most of what Night Veil instructed me to do was running around taking care of minor odd jobs, so it’s possible I just didn’t get to see the panicky parts.”
“It feels strange to walk around the other solarites, knowing I have the answers they’re desperately looking for.” Celestia paced. “I feel guilty, in a way. These are ponies I’ve worked with. Most of them are good ponies just trying their best. I understand why Clover sent us back to our old assignments while we wait, but I sort of wish she hadn’t.”
“I know.” Luna nodded. “Knowing I can drive the moon to rise and set on a whim feels so dissonant to pretending to be just an apprentice putting in her hours.”
Celestia nodded. “Hard to imagine that in just two more days, this”—she waved her hoof around in a wide circle—“all of this, it’ll all be over. The end of the world as the Unicorn Kingdom knows it.” She looked over at her sister. “I’m scared, Luna.”
“So am I.” Luna looked out at the city, taking in the scene with an expressionless, almost hypnotized gaze. “So am I.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“Luna!” The voice snapped her out of her work and back into the world again. She set down the quill she was transcribing with, careful not to let any of the silver ink make errant marks on the deep blue paper.
“Yes, Mage?” Luna looked up to see the familiar dark midnight mane and dappled silvery-grey coat of her over-instructor.
“You were really lost in your own world there, weren’t you?” Night Veil looked at Luna curiously, the color of her sapphire eyes barely visible in the dark.
“Oh. I must have been. I’m sorry,” Luna said. “I was making a copy of the year’s lunar schedule, for my reference.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Night Veil nodded. “Tonight I need you to assist Star Shine at the primary monitoring station. She could use a second set of eyes as backup. Keep her awake, will you?”
“Yes, Mage.” Luna put away her transcription, then stood up and crossed the lunar thaumocontroller operations floor, a huge ring of steel floor plates around a cluster of enormous crystals that comprised the resonating and focusing mechanism to grasp and steer the moon. The building was perpetually kept dark to make the imaging systems showing the night sky more easily visible. The most prominent illumination was from the huge crystals, which gave off a dim purple fluorescence creating barely enough ambient light to see by.
Luna passed by several unattended secondary display stations showing various keying stars while she walked the wide semicircular path around the central crystal machinery and over to the primary lunar monitor. There were a few hushed exchanges from the lunarite operators across the room as they chatted between themselves, but otherwise there was no sound, just a familiar nighttime silence that Luna found both eerie and comforting at the same time.
“I’m here to assist, Lunarite Star Shine,” Luna announced before she sat down at the station, next to a purple unicorn.
“Mmmhmm.” Star Shine didn’t take her eyes away from the set of displays. Luna read the dimly lit numbers: angular velocity, acceleration, altitude, rate of descent, inertia, response lag time, and a host of others. It was a familiar station she’d spent many hours at in the past. She remembered how watching the changing influence of the machine on the moon over the course of the night had fascinated her at first, when she began apprenticing here.
The novelty had long since worn off, even before recent developments. The exercise only felt more tedious now, knowing that there would be no abnormalities because the one thing that could possibly interfere with the moon—herself—would not be doing so.
Not yet, anyway.
The numbers on the displays shifted slowly through their nominal values, always staying exactly on point for the time of night, while Star Shine said nothing, eyes locked on the readouts. Luna found herself feeling sympathetic. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to miss an abnormality either. Hours dragged by with Star Shine’s laser focus unbroken.
“I need to go get coffee,” Luna finally announced, itching for movement and unable to take sitting still and silent in the dark any longer. “Do you want some?”
“Mmmm.” Star Shine’s horn glowed faintly while she levitated over a tall mug from her far side and transferred it to Luna’s magical grasp.
Luna trotted off quietly and sighed on her way to the break room.
She knew the next two nights were going to be long, and yet somehow, at the same time, they felt all too short. Anxiety and excitement tingled in her nerves when she thought about the moment that was drawing ever closer.
☙ ☀ ❧
“You have your calendar copied?” Luna asked.
Celestia nodded quickly from across their small kitchen table. “You?”
“Yes,” Luna said. “I found some time to finish, despite the long hours being a backup watchstander to monitor lunar transits I could have told everypony would be completely uneventful.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It is.” Luna rolled her eyes. “Incredibly so.”
“Still sounds better than pretending to investigate an incident you caused and needing to keep finding ways not to make much progress,” Celestia said. “Fortunately, since there actually is very little real evidence about who or what did it, the illusion of being unable to figure anything out is easy to maintain.”
“Well, I think it won’t matter soon,” Luna said. “It won’t be hard to tell after sunset. Finished packing?”
“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “Saddlebags are ready to go.”
“Once this happens—” Luna stared out the kitchen window at the late afternoon city “—we can’t go back, can we? We’ll never see it again, any of this.”
“I don’t know.” Celestia shrugged. “Not in the same way, at least. And yes, maybe not at all.”
Luna’s voice lowered almost to a whisper. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
“Well, whatever it is,” Celestia began, “at least—”
“—We’re in it together,” Luna finished.
She walked over to her sister and they hugged in silence.
☙ ☀ ❧
The two sisters stood on the observation deck circling the conical roof of their home. Luna watched the east, while Celestia stared out to the west, both their manes and tails flowing in the breeze blowing out of the north.
The sun was most of the way set and sinking lower by the second in the fiery orange and pink sky. As Celestia watched, it touched the horizon. More and more of it vanished until it reached the halfway point, then one quarter. Finally, the last of its disc slipped under, leaving only the colorful afterglow in the sky.
“It’s time,” Celestia said quietly.
“Are we good ponies?” Luna whispered.
“I hope so,” Celestia whispered back.
Luna nodded slowly.
Both of them closed their eyes and their horns began to glow. Celestia’s magical aura was rose-colored at first, then quickly shifted to a bright white-gold. Luna’s started out as the teal of her eyes before turning a pale silvery-blue.
The long sunset shadows of buildings suddenly began shortening and the sky lightened as the sun rose back above the horizon to the west, quickly climbing in retrograde motion.
At the same time, the moon rose at an equal pace from the east.
Ponies in the streets of Quartz City stopped and stared upward, with murmurs of confusion. They watched in silent disbelief while the moon and sun rose until they loomed directly overhead, sharing the sky right next to each other.
Unnoticed atop their observation deck, Luna and Celestia stood and focused, their manes and tails beginning to shimmer with translucence and wave gently while they floated on an ethereal wind.
⁂
“Mage Sun Song! I’m reading a course drift!” The shout pricked up every ear in the solar thaumocontroller’s operations floor. “Rapid movement in retrograde! Velocity and acceleration are outside the safe limits!”
The mage being addressed, Sun Song, started trotting toward the monitoring station in a semicircular path around the huge central pillars of crystal. “Is it a problem with the setting procedure?” she asked.
“No, mage,” the solarite responded. “Everything was fine right up until the sun crossed the horizon and control was released. This just started out of nowhere a few seconds later.”
“Conduct an emergency startup,” Sun Song ordered while she moved to examine another station. “Reestablish guidance control and course correct to the assigned track. Quickly!”
A flurry of activity began as solarites rushed to various stations. Numerous horns glowed in a rainbow scattering of pastel colors as they interacted with display and control panels. The crystal shafts in the central area started emitting a white-yellow light while they powered up, flooding the huge room with daytime brightness.
“Solar control is non-responsive!” a solarite shouted. “Lag’s off-scale. Same indications as when this happened before.”
“Raise the power,” the mage barked. “I want it at the maximum we can manage. Get control back, now! Whoever’s messing around, we can’t let them keep doing this.”
The crystals’ glow suddenly started rising in intensity.
“Not that fast!” Sun Song cried, her eyes widening. “It’ll damage the control focus!”
“I’m not doing it,” the solarite said, her face blank with dumbfounded confusion.
“What?” Sun Song squinted against the increasingly bright light flooding through the room. “How is that possible?”
“Crystal temperatures are rising,” another solarite yelled. “They’re close to the safe limit. I don’t think— nevermind, safe limits exceeded, and still rising.”
The light in the room kept getting brighter.
An alarm sounded, accompanied by a warning light. A solarite rushed over to the panel it was on and placed it in silent, the noise replaced by a rapidly flashing red indicator. “Ultraviolet exposure alarm!” she announced loudly.
Sun Song briefly turned her head toward the station. “Deploy the UV filters!”
“Deploying.” A mechanical humming sound accompanied a set of dark smoky glass plates rising out of the floor in a ring around the central crystals. As they came up, the light in the operations floor dimmed to more tolerable levels.
After a moment, the filters reached their maximum height and stopped. “Ultraviolet exposure alarm clear,” the solarite at that station announced.
“Good.” Sun Song nodded. “Now, let’s see what we can do about cooling down the—”
“Power excursion!” a pony screamed. She pointed at the central pillars. Every head in the room swiveled to stare at the gigantic array of crystals. Even through the smoky glass, they were visibly turning incandescent red-orange, glowing with heat and getting brighter by the second.
“Shut it down!” Sun Song ordered. “Emergency stop!”
“I already did!” A solarite responded in a panicky voice. “The feedback resonator is disconnected, but power’s coming in from somewhere else. It’s not us. Whatever this is, I can’t stop it.”
Sun Song looked around uncertainly, glancing back and forth between all the solarites at their stations looking to her for orders and the enormous crystals getting continually hotter and brighter.
After a brief moment of silence, an ear-splitting crack announced one of the crystals shattering under thermal stress. A huge jagged piece of yellow-hot quartz shot off and slammed through one of the plates of shielding glass, shattering it and turning an empty monitoring station behind it into twisted scrap metal. The sound of glass shards raining down onto the metal floor filled the room, and a fan of light too intense to look directly at spilled out onto the operations floor from the gap left in the filter.
The air was sweltering now, making the room very uncomfortable.
Sun Song heard the sound of more crystals cracking under the immense strain of being rapidly heated. One of the pillars snapped at an angle along a ragged cleavage line and toppled over, breaking up into more pieces as it fell and hitting other surrounding crystals on the way down.
She stared in horror, frozen for a half-second before her horn glowed and she cast a voice amplification spell. “Evacuate!” she boomed out. “All ponies evacuate the thaumocontroller immediately!”
The solarites on the operations floor stood up from their stations and started filing out silently, all wearing numb, shocked expressions on their faces.
Sun Song followed behind them, looking around briefly to verify that she was the last to leave. As she glanced back, she noticed sparks and ashes raining down in the central area over the crystals. Her jaw dropped. The domed steel ceiling had been burned open by a collimated beam of impossibly intense light blazing into the building from the sky, leaving a hole glowing orange-hot around the edges. The crystals were impossible to look at now, painfully bright even through the dark shielding glass.
By the time she turned and ran, some of them were already melting into a viscous liquid.
⁂
Although her eyes were closed, Luna saw the city clearly in her mind as she scried far into the sky to get a bird’s eye view. She quickly located the round building she was looking for: the lunar thaumocontroller, unmistakable with its huge domed roof, peaked at the highest point by the small, highly polished sphere of a panoramic imaging crystal.
She was sure they were getting a show right now, and it was only just beginning.
The moon moved easily at her command, swinging through the sky until it was directly overhead. Although she looked forward to the test before her, there was also a strange feeling of uncertainty now that the moment had come—the general idea of what to do had seemed clear, but the specific reality of exactly how to go about it was something else.
While she pondered her task, a nagging annoyance kept distracting her. Something else was grasping at the moon, trying to pull it away from her control. Her grip was stronger and it posed no real threat, but the resisting force—the thaumocontroller—kept trying. She felt it radiating the kinetic influence magic it was using to pull at the moon, fighting her weakly but persistently.
She was also a little worried that the rapid moonrise she’d just forced was not a gentle process. In the subtle flux of the magical interplay between moon and planet, she could actually feel distant oceans sloshing from the sudden pull, probably creating rogue waves of a size unknown in living memory. Fortunately, the coasts of the continent were far away and largely unpopulated. She sensed tidal forces straining the moon as well, deforming it slightly from its spherical shape, friction of rock against rock and the squeezing of the iron core generating heat. There would be serious moonquakes, after this. But, fortunately again, no one lived on the moon.
Gravity on planetary scales was an incredibly powerful force, one she would need to be cautious of in the future. But for right now, this gave her sudden inspiration, making the solution to her problem seem self-evident.
Once the moon was in place over the city, she reached out far and wide and directed its emanations, normally diffusing out into space in all directions, into a more focused and coherent arrangement. Concentrating hard, she lensed its gravitational pull to a small but crushingly powerful pinpoint.
This focal point started about halfway between the planet and the moon, and once she was satisfied with its tightness and her degree of control, she began carefully lowering it toward the planet’s surface. It entered the atmosphere, sucking in air and creating intense winds and a high-density pocket that bent light like a clear glass marble.
She lowered it closer and closer to the city, making fine adjustments as she went, aiming toward the lunar thaumocontroller.
When it was a hundred meters above the thaumocontroller, she could see through her scrying that the domed roof was shaking and buckling under the force. Small bits of debris were being sucked in now, forming a dusty nucleus at the gravitational focal point. At fifty meters, the panoramic imager broke loose and flew up to join the rest of the captured flotsam. At twenty meters, the steel beams of the dome roof were screaming in high pitched notes as they deformed.
At five meters, they started snapping under tensile stress. The sheet metal of the dome crumpled up like paper and joined the ball of twisted scrap accumulating in the air.
A small throng of ponies, composed of the mage and lunarites on shift that night (or what would have been night), poured out of the building. Luna felt sorry for them, in a distant, detached way. All they could do was flee into the streets and leave their thaumocontroller to whatever fate was about to befall it.
By the time the focal point reached where the roof had been, it was gone, leaving a gaping hole over the now-exposed crystal pillar assemblies of thaumomachinery. They still tugged weakly at the moon, running on dumb automation at this point.
She continued lowering the focal point through the hole in the building until it reached the crystals. They began shattering under the stress of tidal forces, cleaving along their internal planes with sharp cracking noises and breaking apart into splinters. The force they exerted on the moon wavered and stopped as the machinery failed, leaving Luna with no competition and no more nagging distraction.
The ball of debris grew larger as Luna lowered the focal point slowly until it reached the floor, tearing apart the thaumocontroller’s heart as it descended. Sharp pieces of stone and metal ground each other into jagged needles and glittering dust.
When every emitter crystal was finally broken and torn loose to join the deadly sphere of rubble, she lifted the focal point back up, rapidly pulling all of the mess she’d just made up through the sky. After a few minutes, it passed the point where the air thinned out and vanished. Once it was clear of the atmosphere, she made the final push, one last powerful shove to send the massive shafts and splinters of crystal hurtling through space before she released the gravitational focal point and let the magical emanations of the moon return to normal.
Luna let out a breath she’d been holding and smiled, eyes still closed. Soon, she knew that what was left of the thaumocontroller’s enormous crystals would crash into the moon, where they would spend the rest of eternity embedded in its surface to serve as a gratifying reminder of this day.
⁂
Using the vast power the sun made available to her, Celestia concentrated and held the shape of the huge collimating lenses she’d formed high in the sky out of telekinetically compressed air, carefully focusing a beam of concentrated sunlight. It had already made pleasingly quick progress, burning through the roof of the solar thaumocontroller and exposing the crystal apparatus within to the blazing light.
She also pumped solar energy directly into the emitter crystals, causing them to surge with power far beyond their design limits and nowhere to get rid of it. After just a few seconds, she could feel these crystals cracking and shattering under the stress, then liquefying as the sunbeam heated them, turning to puddles of yellow-hot slag and flowing across the floor. Equipment in the operations area began catching fire from the radiant heat. Ashes and sparks flew, swirling in cyclones of shimmering superheated air over a slowly expanding lake of molten quartz glass.
When the destruction was thorough enough to leave her satisfied, Celestia let go of the air, allowing her lenses to dissipate in great bursts of wind. The beam vanished, leaving the solar thaumocontroller nothing but a hollow shell of smoldering ruin with smoke billowing out of the charred hole.
The white-gold glow from her horn slowly faded, although her mane and tail, now striped in blues and greens as well as pink, continued floating gently on an unfelt breeze. She opened her eyes and turned to the other unicorn on the observation deck.
“Luna, I’m finished. Have you—”
Without warning, the two sisters disappeared in a bright flash of white light.
Celestia floated through an infinite field of stars and nebulae surrounding her in a slow meandering cosmic dance, drifting through the vastness of eternity as aimlessly as a bubble swirling on a gentle breeze.
There was no gravity. She felt no spatial orientation, no indication of what was up or down. Time seemed to lack definition, as if it was passing both slowly and quickly, or maybe not at all. Although she was conscious of only a few seconds, it didn’t seem contiguous with what she last remembered before it, leaving her with an unsettling feeling of not knowing how long had really passed.
It started to dawn on her that maybe she should be concerned about her situation, but before there was a chance for that worry to fully set in, unfamiliar magic surged through her like a bolt of lightning. In an instant it shot down deeply, permeating all of her tissues and infusing them with a sensation of spreading warmth mingled with electric fire and ice – not pain, but something intense enough to be overwhelming, leaving her stunned.
This… whatever this was, it was different from anything she’d ever felt. Her back arched, wracking and convulsing involuntarily. Her body was paralyzed and she could do nothing as strange energy migrated and concentrated in her legs. They tingled and their musculature twitched and writhed under her skin. When it finally began to subside, it left behind a feeling that something indefinable was different in her hooves.
As soon as it left her legs, the same process worked its way through her withers and chest, but this time with even more pronounced effects. Unfamiliar new tactile senses awoke, a strange awareness of things that were part of her now but she’d never felt before. She couldn’t even begin to understand them or what was happening. All she knew was that it was disturbing, making her feel almost as if new muscles were—
A new sensation ripped through her without warning. She felt a pair of sharp bony somethings suddenly erupt from her back, near her scapula on both sides. Gasping and shuddering, she threw her head back, instinctively trying to whinny in terror, and her eyes, glowing brightly with white light, opened wide in stunned surprise. The sudden shock of new parts flooding into her felt like too much to bear, overloading her mind and squeezing out all thought.
And so this went on. She was helpless as she burned and writhed, searing with white magical light pouring from her in waves of blinding novae.
Finally, after an indeterminate length of time—in this bizarre starry void, she couldn’t tell if this process had taken seconds, minutes, hours—it stopped, fading away until she felt normal again… more or less. She could sense something had changed, but didn’t understand exactly how. Her legs weren’t the same as before. The muscles and hooves felt different. Her back had something attached to it. There was a new feeling against her sides, something soft but slightly scratchy. It was all so confusing, so surreal… so impossible…
Gradually, her body loosened and moved under her own control once more. She tried to turn her head and look at herself, but just before she could manage it, there was another flash of white light and everything was gone again.
☙ ☀ ❧
After blinking through her disorientation, Celestia realized she was back on the observation deck, standing exactly where she’d been before the— Stars? Nebulae? Somewhere in space? If it was space, it hadn’t felt devoid of air, although on the other hoof, she didn’t specifically remember breathing. The memories were jumbled, leaving her confused. Was it some sort of magical construct? An illusion? A trick of some sort?
It was all so strange. Like a dream, but too real, too… awake. Did it really happen? She didn’t understand any of it.
But in any case, she was sure she was back now, so at least that was something.
Hearing the voice helped bring her back more fully to reality. “What do you mean?” Celestia turned around. “Of course it’s—”
Her words died, leaving her stunned into silence when she saw the deep blue feathers resting against her sister’s sides.
“Luna?” Celestia raised a shaky hoof and pointed. “You… wings?”
Luna glanced at herself quickly, then looked at Celestia again with an expressionless face while she pointed back. “You too, sister.”
Celestia turned her head and looked at what Luna was pointing to. She found her own body bearing wings as well, unfamiliar long white primaries scratching gently against her sides behind soft warm downy feathers in the front.
“What happened to us?” Luna asked in a very small voice.
“I don’t know.” Celestia suddenly felt numb and bewildered, with pangs of cold fear welling deep inside her chest. “I’ve— I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
“I was… in the stars? In a magical space of some sort?” Luna said. “That’s what it seemed like to me, I think. Is that where you were?”
“Yes,” Celestia said. “I—” she raised one hoof hesitantly “—I think so?”
Celestia tried for a moment to put her jumbled memories of the place back in some kind of sensible order, but it was difficult without some time to think – and the world seemed determined not to give her even a moment. Distant sirens blared intrusively, distracting her. At their prompting, she looked out across the city, and found her and her sister’s recent work still fresh: a thick column of black smoke rising from the still-glowing, burned-open solar thaumocontroller, billowing into dark, ugly clouds. The lunar thaumocontroller’s dome was cracked open like a broken egg, jagged around the edges with razor shards of twisted metal.
“What do we do now?” Luna asked anxiously.
Celestia hesitated. “I… I don’t know…”
“They’ll already be looking for us,” Luna said. “Do we stick to the plan?”
Celestia realized she had to make a snap decision. “Yes, we proceed as planned.” She nodded once, although she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the feathers at her sides, which twitched nervously in a sensation of increasingly familiar unfamiliarity. “We’ll figure out this new twist later. I don’t know what other choice we have.”
“Right.” Luna nodded back. She levitated her waiting saddlebag and tried to put it on, but struggled awkwardly to buckle the strap under her wings.
Celestia also tried to put her bag on, and found the new muscles with their new and unlearned motor functions unwieldy and hard to control. With some finagling she was able to partially extend her wings, but not quite get both of them all the way off her sides at the same time. After a few moments of frustration, she resorted to gently grabbing them with telekinesis and moving them out of the way while she strapped her saddlebag around her barrel, then let them flop back to their resting position.
Luna handled hers with an equal lack of grace. “Ready to go,” she finally reported, after considerable fumbling.
Celestia nodded. “I’ll teleport us.”
She drew in power, horn glowing with white-gold light once again, and scried. The vision in her mind’s eye started directly overhead, a bird’s eye view of the buildings around her, which she rapidly pushed toward the city walls.
When she tried to pass beyond the walls to look out across the countryside beyond, something tangled in her scrying spell. A sticky feeling blurred her mental vision, filtering the image through what seemed like the telepathic equivalent of a combination of funhouse mirrors and hazy, badly scratched glass. Whatever it was also gummed up her magic’s responsiveness, making moving her perspective feel like walking on warm tar.
“Something’s interfering.” Celestia frowned and dropped the spell. “I can’t scry out the destination point. Anything past the city walls is hard to get a good image of.”
“The weather control perimeter!” Luna stomped a hoof. “I should have thought of that. It’s why pegasi can’t overfly the city. It inhibits their flight magic. Of course it would interfere with other magic as well, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right,” Celestia said. “We’ll need to punch through it somehow.”
“Or just punch it out,” Luna suggested.
“I… hmmm.” Celestia thought for a moment. “Well. That would work.”
Luna nodded and glanced at the column of smoke in the distance. “As long as we’re already on a rampage anyway… in for a penny, in for a pound, right?”
“We don’t really have time to come up with anything better,” Celestia agreed.
“So, will you do the honors, or shall I?” Luna asked.
“I’ll handle the teleport if you handle the weather control pylons,” Celestia said.
“Very well.” Luna nodded. “One moment.”
Luna’s horn glowed pale silvery blue. Her eyes narrowed while her mane and tail became deep, slow-flowing midnight holes in space with the pinpoint light of stars shining through.
In the distance, a column of blue light formed over one of the weather control crystals. It was dim and diffuse at first, spread out wide. Luna’s horn brightened and the column tightened, growing more intense, quickly turning into a thin, intensely blue-white beam centered right on the hexagonal piece of crystal in the pylon.
She brought the beam into focus until it formed a thin line too bright to look at. In mere seconds, the steel superstructure supporting the pylon heated to a cherry-red glow, and the crystal shattered. Shards tumbled from the city wall, refracting sunlight in brilliant rainbow flashes as they rained down slowly in the distance like a shower of glittering diamonds.
With a link in the chain broken, the weather control field collapsed and the protective magical curtain around the city fell as the rest of the crystal pylons lost power in a cascade, fading out one after another.
Celestia wasted no time once the magical barrier was out of the way. She closed her eyes and cast her scrying spell again, this time having no difficulty in pushing out beyond the city and searching across the countryside. Finding what she was looking for took only a few seconds.
“Time to go!” she warned her sister. “Teleporting!”
Luna snapped her eyes shut and stood still.
Celestia activated the spell, reaching out to grasp Luna in it as well as herself, and they both disappeared from their little observation deck with a bright flash and a loud popping sound.
☙ ☀ ❧
The first thing Celestia heard after the pop of displaced air was scrabbling hoofsteps nearby.
“Whoa!” a voice exclaimed in surprise.
She opened her eyes to see the pegasus she’d met before, Gale Winds, quickly backing up with her head turned away and one wing held up to shield her face.
Celestia looked around. Luna was standing next to her in a derelict barn, dark and musty with shafts of sunlight shining in from overhead through small holes in the roof and gaps in the sagging age-warped siding.
“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too startling,” Celestia said.
“It was unexpected.” Gale Winds lowered her wing and regained her composure. “I’m not familiar with unicorn magic. But then, many things have been unexpected lately. I’m not used to the sun rising when it should be setting, either.”
“No, it, ummm, hasn’t exactly been a normal day, has it?” Celestia shook her head.
“Regardless of what kind of day it is, we should depart quickly,” Gale Winds said. “It’s dangerous, pegasi being in Unicorn Kingdom lands without the correct weather-work permits. I don’t want to get caught out here.”
“You’re right.” Celestia nodded. “Very dangerous for us now, too. We’re ready to leave immediately.”
“You will still be needing the cart, right?” Gale Winds looked at Luna and Celestia with a puzzled expression. “I don’t remember you having wings last time we met.”
“No.” Celestia shook her head. “It’s a strange story and I honestly don’t even understand it myself. But it’s not something there’s time to puzzle over right now.”
“Right.” Gale Winds turned and pointed to a cart behind her in the barn, the same one they’d traveled in before, with two waiting pegasi harnessed to it. “Not really my business anyway. My job is just to get you to Cloudopolis, so let’s go.”
Luna and Celestia trotted to the wagon and got in. Gale Winds latched the back gate, then walked over to the doors of the barn and pushed them open.
The two pegasi hitched to the cart taxied it out of the barn.
“Hold on to something!” Gale Winds called back.
Celestia braced herself, remembering the last ride’s jolting takeoff.
The cart started moving, rolling rough and bumpy on the icy ground at first, then lifting off into the air and smoothing out. They rose up and through a heavy layer of cloud, getting above another patch of rough weather, and were soon comfortably cruising on their way.
☙ ☀ ❧
Sighing, Clover collapsed onto a small couch, the one piece of furniture in her wizard’s den of an apartment that wasn’t covered in books or magical devices. She closed her eyes and rubbed her aching head. Emergency meetings, one after another, nearly twenty-four hours straight! In the wake of the total destruction of the thaumocontrollers, giving direction to Thaumosciences Authority mages running in a blind panic to try to regain some semblance of control and stem further damage was her entire world. Meals didn’t even exist anymore, let alone the luxury of sleep.
She’d expected things to get hectic once the two sisters did their deed, but it caught her by surprise to see them be so blunt in their methods. ‘Disable the thaumocontrollers by force,’ they’d said. She left the details to them, trusting that they understood their new-found powers better than she did and would exercise sound judgment as to the appropriate and necessary level of aforementioned ‘force.’
Perhaps being so nonspecific was a mistake, she ruminated, stretching her stiff legs. Not that this was wholly unexpected: there was a certain kind of logic to the loud message that such a shocking display of first-strike power sent. It would have just been nice to know exactly what was coming.
And the weather control perimeter… nothing had been said about that. It was an unpleasant complication. Why weather control had to become an unplanned casualty was a question she was eager to hear answered, assuming she ever saw those two again. Just thinking about it made her scowl while she lay on her couch staring up at the ceiling. The city was reeling badly enough, after the overkill they’d wrought on the thaumocontrollers. Did they really need to top that off by trashing their weather control and letting the ravages of winter in as well, filling the streets with snow and—
BANG BANG BANG
Somepony was not just knocking, but downright hammering on the door, demanding attention right this instant.
Clover started and jumped to her hooves. Oh, what now? She scowled and walked over to open her apartment door, expecting a messenger with a summons for yet another urgent emergency consultation or some other such demand on her leadership in this crisis.
But it was no simple messenger. Instead, a group of armored royal guards stood at her door, led by a unicorn who was not armored, and not a royal guard. She was the least pleasant sight of them all, with an only-too-familiar pastel fuchsia coat and dark violet pin-straight mane with red streaks, standing at the door with a soft grin and a glint shining in her purple eyes.
Clover studied Star Fire’s face for a moment. “Well. Don’t you just look like the cat who caught the canary,” she remarked flatly.
“Cardinal, this is the day I’ve been waiting for.” Star Fire’s smile widened slightly.
“Is it, now?” Clover asked. “You finally found just the right cream for that embarrassing personal problem?”
Star Fire said nothing, and instead turned and motioned to the royal guards beside her.
One of them stepped forward. “Cardinal Mage Clover, you are summoned to the Royal Court to appear before Princess Platinum for inquest,” the guard said, reading from a script. “This summons is immediate. Failure to comply will result in being assessed guilty of criminal contempt against the crown.”
Clover stared in blank surprise for a moment.
“Criminal contempt?” She blinked and cleared her throat. “Oh my. Can’t have that, can we? I guess I’d better go.”
“The guards will be escorting you,” Star Fire said, still smiling. “Standard practice for a summons like this. You understand.”
“Oh, I understand, Star Fire.” Clover stared at her. “I understand perfectly. I presume you plan to be present for the clown show. I’m sure this is all very amusing to you.” She turned to the guard. “Well, let’s not waste time. I have things to do.”
Clover exited her apartment and closed the door behind her, then locked it. She walked down the hallway, and the guards took up positions. Two of them flanked her sides, while one walked in front of her and one behind.
Star Fire trailed after them, stalking down the hall like a cat looking pleased with itself all the way to the royal court.
☙ ☀ ❧
“We are informed by Mage Star Fire that your two, ah, research assistants are unaccounted for since the catastrophic events that befell the thaumocontrollers,” Princess Platinum said from her red velvet-lined throne.
Although crowded with officials and representatives of the noble houses, the court was eerily silent right now. All eyes focused on the unicorn with a curly green mane who stood alone before the dais, flanked at a distance by royal guards.
“That is true, Princess,” Clover replied. “I have not been able to find them.”
“Strange, since they were not at the scenes.” Platinum looked at Clover with cold, ice-blue eyes. “These missing unicorns are sisters, I believe?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“And there seems to be a possible discrepancy regarding some of your recent work,” Platinum continued. “You claimed to be conducting long-range teleportation experiments when confronted in person about the detection of an unusual magical signature.”
“I did, Princess.” Clover nodded. “I was conducting such experiments.”
“But the forms by which you obtained the transfer of these two sisters to your supervision state the purpose as urgent weather research,” Platinum continued. “Mage Star Fire discovered as much when she pulled the paperwork.”
“Oh?” Clover looked over at Star Fire, standing amongst the crowd, and narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you’ve been doing with your time lately? In this moment of crisis, with the thaumocontrollers destroyed, the weather control system down, and qualified mages so badly needed all over the city? You see fit to make digging up old transfer paperwork your priority?”
Star Fire scowled, staring back at Clover. “I don’t think it’s your place to second-guess me right now,” she hissed. “I’m not the one who’s been summoned for an inquest.”
“Would you like to be?” Clover snapped. “Because it’s starting to sound like there are some questions I’d like to hear answe—”
“Cardinal!” Platinum’s voice boomed louder than usual for a moment from a voice amplification spell, commanding attention. “The issue at hoof. How do you explain yourself?”
“Apologies, Princess,” Clover said. “My explanation is simple: both were being done. I directed the two sisters to work on their weather research tasks autonomously, while I experimented with long-range teleportation magics that I believed held potential.”
“I see.” Platinum nodded briefly. “And you don’t know where these sisters are now?”
“I do not, Princess.” Clover shook her head.
“You released them from your supervision and returned them to roles in the Thaumosciences Authority as a solarite and an apprentice lunarite, is that true?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“How long ago?” Platinum asked. “About three days before the thaumocontrollers were destroyed, if I’m remembering correctly?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“They were accounted for until the attack, after which… they vanished.” Platinum paused. “I do hope nothing untoward has happened to them.”
“As do I, Princess.” Clover nodded.
“Is there any evidence as to their location or status?” Platinum asked.
“Not that I know of, Princess.”
“Any reason to think they may have been involved in recent events?”
“I don’t—”
“Actually, Princess, if I may,” Star Fire interrupted. All eyes in the court turned to her. She was holding several sheets of paper in her magical grip, hovering in front of her.
“You have something to contribute, Mage?” Platinum waved for Star Fire to approach.
Star Fire walked out of the crowd and joined Clover before the throne. “Yes, Princess. Detections of unusual thaumic signatures. Massive ones, three of them.” She floated the papers over to the princess. “I’m sure you will notice that the timing is quite interesting.”
Princess Platinum took the papers in her magical grasp and read through them, while a tense silence smothered the court like a heavy blanket.
“Hmm. The second one is the date of the first solar anomaly. The last one is the date of the thaumocontroller attacks,” she said. “But the first? I don’t recognize this being a major event.”
“The first, Princess, is the date and time at which Cardinal Clover claims to have been conducting teleportation experiments,” Star Fire said. “In fact, it is the unique energy signature of the very event she claimed was her experiment when I inquired.”
Princess Platinum lowered the papers and looked at Clover sharply. “You claim it was a teleportation experiment, and yet it matches the other signatures exactly – signatures whose timing is closely associated with moving the sun illegally and exerting incredible destructive force against vital state infrastructure. I suggest you explain this very carefully, Cardinal, if you can.”
Clover said nothing, standing frozen before the dais. Dead silence gripped the court yet again. After a few seconds, whispers broke out among the crowd, followed by growing murmurs. Ponies directed glances and glares of confusion, dismay, and anger at her.
“My court and I will have an answer, Cardinal.” Platinum stared at her icily. “The first event: was this or was this not your magic?”
“It was not, Princess,” Clover said, in a dry, quiet voice.
“Then what kind of magic was it?”
“I don’t know, Princess.” Clover stared down at the floor, studying the rich red carpet that covered the stone tiles before the throne.
“You don’t know, but you lied to conceal it by pretending it was your own doing?” Platinum narrowed her eyes.
“I…” Clover cleared her throat and pawed at the ground with one hoof. “I did, Princess.”
A wave of low voices mumbling and murmuring rose from the crowd.
“Why?” Platinum demanded. Her horn suddenly glowed with a pale blue aura.
“To cover for two young thaumites who I believed made a simple innocent mistake,” Clover said.
“Is that so?” Platinum spoke swiftly with a sharp edge to her words. “No. Cardinal, in reality, I see only two possibilities. The first is that I have sorely overestimated the soundness of your judgment. The second is that you are fully aware that there is more to this, which after working with you for so long I greatly suspect is closer to the truth. Either way, whatever is going on has cost the Unicorn Kingdom dearly, and I have grave misgivings about extending you my trust any further. It tastes all the more bitter to have to say that about my own Royal Cardinal Mage.”
Platinum was silent for a beat. “What happened to you, Clover?”
“They call me clever, not wise,” Clover said softly to the floor, hanging her head.
Platinum’s face contorted with anger. “The brazenness! To lie to me when you know you cannot! I promise you, Clover, I will reach the bottom of this and your role will be found out, one way or another! So help me, once I know what charges to have you arrested for, I will. Until then, you are stripped of all duties and privileges and confined to the palace where a close watch may be kept on you.”
Platinum turned and motioned to the captain near her. “Guards! Escort the Cardinal to an empty guest apartment. Lock her in. Post sentries and see that she does not leave. Provide her with the necessary meals and personal items for health and comfort, but nothing else. Allow her to speak to nopony. Go! Get her out of my sight.”
Royal guards closed around Clover and started leading her away while most of the crowd watched in stunned, dismayed silence. Star Fire stood among them, smiling subtly while her eyes followed Clover out of the court hall.
“Are you noticing how the stars look?” Luna’s voice interrupted the night’s silence. “They’re so much sharper than they seemed to be before.”
Celestia quietly studied the velvety black sky a moment longer while the two sisters laid on their backs, side by side on a cloud bank. “Yes,” she agreed, admiring the countless, glittering points of light. “I wonder if it’s because Cloudopolis is so high up.”
“I don’t think it’s just that,” Luna said. “Everything looks sharper, like a fuzziness is gone that I never even realized was there.”
“Pegasi have better eyes than other types of ponies,” a voice said from behind them. “Maybe you got more than just wings.”
Celestia lifted her head and rolled part of the way over to look. Private Pansy stood a short distance away.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Pansy said, looking contrite – although that was, Celestia couldn’t help thinking, how she looked most of the time.
“Not at all.” Celestia propped herself up on her forelegs. “Thank you for the insight. Pardon the phrasing.”
It was a bad joke—terrible, Celestia realized after it was out of her mouth—but Pansy giggled politely all the same.
Luna followed suit, getting up and turning to look at Pansy. “Maybe we did gain more than just the wings. Pegasi have several unique attributes. I also noticed we didn’t have to use cloud-walking magic when we arrived.”
“How about the cold?” Pansy asked. “It’s not very warm up here, at least compared to what I understand unicorns prefer.”
“I–” Celestia thought about it. “You’re right. I hadn’t realized. I can feel that it’s cold, of course, but it hasn’t been bothering me.”
“Pegasus cold tolerance,” Luna said. “I wonder what else we’ll discover we gained.”
“I’m not really sure what to tell you.” Pansy shrugged. “It’s all new to me. You left as unicorns, but came back as… unicorn-pegasi-something? Honestly, I’ve never even heard of anything like this.”
Celestia shook her head. “That makes three of us.”
Pansy fidgeted, digging a hoof into the cloud-fluff they were standing on while silence descended on the conversation. “Umm, anyway.” She looked around stiffly. “I really just came to tell you that Commander Hurricane would like to meet with you both. Tomorrow morning at oh-nine-hundred, in her office. Where you met her before.”
“You’re welcome.” Pansy returned the nod. “I’ll be back in the morning to escort you. Goodnight.” She turned and flew away.
Celestia and Luna sat on the dark cloudbank and stared at each other for a long moment.
“So… how do we explain this?” Luna finally asked, waggling one wing. “What are you going to tell her?”
“What we are going to tell her is…” Celestia began, only to trail off and look blankly back up at the stars glittering in the ebon sky like gems. “…I have no idea.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“Forgive my bringing it up, but you two looked different the last time I saw you,” Commander Hurricane commented from behind the desk in her office. She sat in her armor, staring at the two sisters before her.
“Believe me, we know,” Celestia said in a low voice.
“What happened?” Hurricane asked. “Using small words, please.”
Celestia just shook her head helplessly. “We’re both as clueless as anypony about what magic did this to us, Commander. We destroyed the thaumocontrollers, we disappeared to… somewhere… it’s very hard to explain… and we came back like this.”
“I see.” Hurricane frowned.
“This wasn’t by choice,” Luna said, defensiveness coming through in her gruff voice.
“No, no, I understand that.” Hurricane shook her head.
“I apologize for this unexpected complication,” Celestia said. “I hope it doesn’t impact our plans.”
“Well, from my perspective it doesn’t, because you delivered what you promised.” Hurricane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “A little warning on what you had planned would have been nice, though. A hint, even. ‘We're going to melt both Thaumocontrollers into slag’ would have worked. That little show at sunset was serious. I presume the two of you are directly in control of the sun and the moon now?”
“Yes, Commander.” Celestia nodded. “They’re being kept safely on course. Please forgive us if we seem tired. Neither of us are trying to be rude, it’s just that Luna was up all night keeping her watch, and I woke before dawn to raise the sun and begin mine.”
“Right, got it.” Hurricane nodded. “You two scare the hailstones out of me, you know that? Aside from melting down centuries worth of unicorn science, you've got a lot more responsibility now. Where are you staying?”
“We rented a hotel room last night when we arrived in your city,” Celestia said. “Fortunately, it occurred to us to withdraw as much cash as we could before we went on our thaumocontroller destroying spree. Even so, the hotel manager was—” She paused, thinking of how to phrase it “—wary, of our horns, and that we only had Quartz City bits, but in the end, she finally decided that gold is gold and the stamp on it isn’t really what’s important.”
“Ha!” Hurricane laughed. “Yeah, she knows what counts.”
Celestia smiled. “It seems so. At least we got to sleep indoors.”
“Good enough for the night, but I’m sure I can find you something better than a hotel room,” Hurricane said, glancing up at the ceiling in thought. “Let’s see. We’ve got enough military housing. Officers get their own units. I can authorize for you to stay in one while you’re here. I’ll also get you a food stipend, so you don’t starve, either.”
“That would be very helpful, Commander,” Celestia said. “Thank you.”
“Least I can do for somepony who delivers on their promises.” Hurricane nodded. “Which brings me to the question of what the next step is. What’s the shape of your plan from here?”
“We intended to wait until we hear from Cardinal Clover again,” Celestia said. “When the three of us decided on destroying the thaumocontrollers, we knew the reaction would be too volatile to fully predict, so it would probably need to be played by ear. Clover stayed behind in Quartz City to do that. She said she would provide further advice about how exactly to continue when the time was right, depending on what the response ends up being.”
“Your plan was to improvise a plan?” Hurricane asked flatly, staring at them in a stern expression of incredulity.
“It’s not great,” Celestia admitted, “but we didn’t have time for great.”
“Isn’t that just classic Clover.” Hurricane facehoofed and groaned. “Well. Do you at least have an ETA on this, uh, ‘further advice’?”
“Clover is supposed to reestablish contact with us within a week,” Celestia said. “If we don’t hear from her sometime in the next seven days, she said to assume she’s in trouble or otherwise unable to help us. At that point, my sister and I will have to come up with something on our own.”
“I will, of course, have my own intelligence services watching Quartz City closely for the effects of all this, in the meantime,” Hurricane said. “I’ll share any relevant discoveries with you, in case that helps.”
“That’s good to know.” Celestia nodded. “Thank you.”
“You know how to use those new wings of yours, by the way?” Hurricane asked, pointing at Celestia and Luna’s feathered sides.
“No, not properly.” Celestia shook her head. “We haven’t exactly had a chance to learn how.”
“Well, if you’re stuck with ‘em, I suggest you do,” Hurricane said. “Maybe it’s a good thing they’re there, anyway. If you’re going to be here with the pegasi, you’re going to be expected to fly. I probably don’t need to point it out, but this isn’t an easy city for the ground-bound to navigate. Go ahead and borrow Private Pansy. Hopefully she can teach you enough to get you airborne and guide you around to anywhere you need to go. I’ll assign her as your assistant for now.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Celestia said.
“So, it’s just hurry up and wait,” Hurricane said. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“No, Commander.” Celestia shook her head. “Nothing I can think of. I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
“Alright.” Hurricane nodded. “Have a good day, then.”
“You too, Commander,” Luna replied. The two sisters nodded their farewells and walked side by side out of the office.
☙ ☀ ❧
“Remember the basics,” Private Pansy admonished the two ponies flying behind her. It was both surprising and strangely endearing the way a voice as soft and whispery-gentle as hers could instruct with such sternness. “Just keep flapping, like I showed you. I want to see a nice straight line of flight, over to that cloud bank.”
Celestia looked down for a brief second, and wished she hadn’t. They were in open air above the ground thousands of meters below, with no safety net of clouds beneath them. Individual features familiar from the surface – trees, rocks, ponies – were unrecognizable, replaced with a more abstract macroscopic quilt-work of forests, farms, and hills. Knowing how high she had to be for the world to look so small, all she could think about was how far of a fall it was. Not particularly wanting to think about this, she looked back up and resolved to keep her eyes fixed steadfastly forward instead.
She felt an awful temptation to teleport, or maybe use telekinetic magic to ‘fly’ in the unicorn fashion, but she also knew that cheating would never help her learn. Only forcing herself to really use her wings would get it done. Tiring, yes, but she was proud of herself that it was starting to pay off.
Narrowing her eyes, she focused on flapping, one motion after another in a ceaseless rhythm. Full extension. Downstroke. Begin to partially retract as she reached the end. Upstroke. Extend again. Downstroke. Every flap hoisted her upward with lift, causing the very strange sensation of being yanked up from above with nothing under her hooves, rather than supported from below.
Upon reflection, she realized that this experience fit only too literally into the general sense of how so many events were going for her. The whole theme of her life lately seemed to be leaping out into the unknown, where it was all fly-or-fall.
She steeled herself. There was nothing to do but hope she could keep flying.
☙ ☀ ❧
After a few days of practice, flight was starting to feel more natural. Willpower transitioned into muscle memory and instinct far faster than either of them expected. Celestia found herself conscious of flapping as a whole motion, but not as much as she had been at first of needing to focus an effort on each individual piece of it. Even the sight of the distant ground below held less dread now, the vertigo and dizziness of heights transforming into a sense of exhilaration when she soared.
The three of them reached the clouds they were headed for and came down for a landing, with Pansy descending first followed by the two sisters. Both of them managed a passably soft landing on their own four hooves, which was better than some of their early tries and involved far less cloudstuff crammed into her nose. This one was even good enough to earn them a smile from their instructor.
“See? Easy.” Pansy turned around with a casual flap to look back at them. “After a little practice, there’s nothing to it.”
“I—” Luna huffed to catch her breath “—I don’t know about that, yet. But it is getting easier, at least.”
“You can rest here a bit before we go back,” Pansy said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Celestia and Luna paced slowly around the cloud in circles, heads held low while they breathed. Pansy seemed to be having no trouble. Celestia wondered if Pansy just hid it better, but doubted she was being honest with herself if her idea to soothe her inadequacy was by chalking it up to acting. Pansy had been getting around this way all her life; high fitness was almost certainly a given. Feeling so out of shape bothered Celestia a little bit, especially considering that she was out of breath just flying naked and weighed down by nothing, while Pansy was still wearing her armor. Clearly there should be more to a pony’s life than books and scrolls, and she mused upon a sudden regret over not confronting herself about getting her muzzle out from between the pages and going for a run once in a while.
A few minutes passed while the sisters recovered. In the distance, a column of pegasi came into view as they flew up towards one of the cloud platforms in a tight formation. They were all wearing armor and carried spears and shields, with two in the outermost positions on either side bearing long, streaming banners checkered in crimson and lapis lazuli blue.
Celestia stared as the pegasi flew in formation, all flapping synchronously in formation at a steady pace. “Who are they?” she asked.
Pansy looked over at them for a moment. “Looks like one of the battalions from Crimson Legion, coming home from deployment.”
“Oh. I see.” Celestia kept watching the soldiers as they moved in formation through the sky, closing in on a flat field of cloud surface. A small, loose crowd of pegasi, apparently civilians, or at least not in armor, was also starting to converge there, flying in one by one and milling around as they waited for the approaching battalion.
The soldiers flew in and landed, swooping down with perfect coordination one row at a time and forming themselves into ranks standing at attention on the cloud. The crowd kept a distance at first, while the spears were lowered and their points fixed with sheathes, then collected and cased by an armorer. Then the banners were folded and stowed. Finally, an officer standing in front of the formation in a plumed helmet motioned approvingly to another pony standing just in front of the first rank, who Celestia inferred was a sergeant of some kind. The sergeant turned and waved while giving an order to the formed soldiers, and they immediately relaxed and broke ranks. At this signal, the gathered crowd surged in while the individual soldiers walked out to mingle with them.
Celestia, Luna, and Pansy kept watching in silence from their small cloud. For the most part, it looked like happy reunions, with the soldiers of the battalion being greeted eagerly by the ponies seeking them out. A few of them were met by young fillies or colts who climbed up on their backs or hugged them.
Through the chaotic crowd, one in particular caught Celestia’s attention. She saw a soldier, a mare with a pale blue-grey coat, kneel down and smile as bright as the sun while a young filly ran up as fast as her short legs and tiny buzzing wings would carry her. The little filly threw her forelegs around the mare’s neck. The mare closed her eyes, cheeks wet with silent tears of joy, and held the filly tight in a hug that seemed like it would never end.
Celestia felt like her heart was melting, turned by the sight to warm sugar inside her chest, sweeter and more precious by far than the best honey from any bee.
I want that.
The simple thought was sudden and surprising, waking something deep within. A vision of herself in that mare’s place, holding a little filly of her own, flashed through her mind before she could stop it. Longing, primal and powerful, tugged at her, so deep it physically ached beneath her ribs.
She wanted it more than anything. The greatest riches from the hidden depths of the earth, the most arcane knowledge from the oldest libraries, the most powerful secret spells from the tallest mage-spires – everything else paled into insignificance beside this, the yearning for a daughter of her own to just hug tight and love with all her heart. She felt this simple wish so intensely it was almost unbearable. Tears started glazing her eyes.
Long seconds passed. She tried to push it down, willing the image to wither and fade like fruit dying on the vine. It made her uncomfortably self-conscious, even though she knew it was impossible for anypony else to know what she’d been thinking.
She looked away, glancing over at Luna, and noticed her staring at something else.
Off in another part of the cloud field, a different soldier, also a mare, was embracing another mare from the crowd. No. More than just embracing, they locked into a passionate kiss. It went on for a few seconds until they broke, gazed in each other’s eyes briefly, and then kissed again.
“Hmm.” Pansy cleared her throat and chuckled awkwardly. “Well, somepony’s glad her marefriend’s home, isn’t she?”
Luna looked a little shocked. “A mare with a marefriend. And they can be…” She hesitated, mouth moving briefly as if the words were having trouble forming “…open about this?”
“Umm. Sure?” Pansy shrugged. “I guess? I mean, everypony sort of expects to see that kind of stuff at these arrivals. It’s only natural. If you’d been out on patrol living on the dirt in the middle of nowhere for the last six months, you’d want to kiss your special somepony as soon as you got home, too, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so,” Luna said vacantly, looking away from the spectacle. She stood in wooden, uncomfortable silence for a few more moments.
“I think— I’m ready to try flying back now, if that’s alright,” she finally said, still not looking at the crowd.
“Yeah.” Pansy nodded, going with the hint. She spread her wings to begin another round of flying lessons. “Yeah, okay. Remember, follow me, and keep building on those basics…”
It was a quiet flight back.
☙ ☀ ❧
“I’m starting to like it here, honestly,” Celestia said, taking a bite of the sugar-glazed carrot she’d just bought from a vendor. “I mean, except for sometimes when pegasi stare at my horn.”
“If a stare now and then is the worst we have to complain about, I’ll take it,” Luna replied, walking alongside Celestia on the clouds.
“And it’s not like you can even blame them, really.” Celestia sighed. “We’re a spectacle. We might as well get used to it. Or try to not be bothered, at least.”
“The thing that really bothers me is how barbaric we were told these ponies are,” Luna continued. “Clearly another lie.”
Celestia pondered this while she chewed. “A lie, or a matter of perspective?”
“Hmmm?” Luna cocked an eyebrow.
“We only ever knew them—didn’t even know them, just knew of them—in a military context,” Celestia continued. “It’s easy to only see the worst of someone, like that. And I’m sure most of the pegasi only knew of us—of unicorns I mean—through the same lens. For all we know, they probably think of us the same way. As unicorn tyrants.”
“That… is a good point.” Luna nodded. “It’s so strange to think about. We’re all just ponies. How did it get like this?”
“I don’t know how it started.” Celestia shook her head. “But I think I know what keeps it this way.”
“What?”
“We let our leaders design our society, our systems, around it,” Celestia said. “And the more it becomes a part of the system, the more we take it for granted that it must be true, because why would it be so systemized if it wasn’t real? It’s such a vicious cycle. No one pony thinks they’re responsible. They all think they’re the victims, even as we all blindly contribute to the problem.”
“We can’t let that happen again,” Luna said.
“No.” Celestia’s gaze hardened. “No, we won’t. Whatever else happens, we won’t.”
☙ ☀ ❧
“This is making me nervous, girls.” Commander Hurricane paced around her office. “Clover’s week is up. What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” Celestia said helplessly.
“Well, somepony’d better know soon,” Hurricane grumbled. “I’m not committing forces without an objective. We haven't had an Operation No Idea yet, and we won't as long as I'm in the comfy chair.”
“I was sure Clover would know,” Celestia said.
“Oh, yes, Clover the ‘they-call-me-clever-not-wise.’” Hurricane muttered sourly, increasing the pace of her pacing.
“If I may say, you seem to have history with her,” Luna noted.
“Yes.” Hurricane stopped pacing for a moment and looked up at Luna. “We worked together on something before. But it’s… a long story. And a long time ago.”
“So what do you think she would do?”
“Something way more clever than I would,” Hurricane grumbled, then returned to pacing. “Probably why I’m not the pony to ask. Anyway, you’ve been working with her, haven’t you? Please tell me something’s rubbed off.”
“Not enough, I’m afraid,” Celestia said.
“Ugh. You’re killing me here!” Hurricane exclaimed. “Give me something. You must at least have ideas in the works. Thoughts. Leanings. A vague notion! Anything!”
“There are certain options that come to mind,” Celestia said reluctantly. “But they’re mostly heavy-hooved and messy. They might also leave room for retaliation.”
“Well, coercion is rarely a clean game,” Hurricane said. “And that’s where you were ultimately going with this, in some form or fashion, right? You might have to just settle for effective if you can’t have elegant. Sometimes those are the breaks.”
“Maybe.” Celestia sank into thought for a few seconds.
“Like it or not, the Commander is right,” Luna said softly to Celestia. “It falls to us. Clover trusted us with this possibility, and we knew something like this might happen. We need to decide something soon, with or without her.”
“I know.” Celestia nodded. “It’s just… a big decision. It feels like a test that doesn’t really have right answers… just…”
“Just answers that are hopefully least-wrong,” Luna finished for her.
Celestia nodded wordlessly.
“Well…” Hurricane began slowly, “If you’re having trouble making a decision…”
“Yes?” Celestia asked.
“Look,” Hurricane finally replied, after pacing a little longer, “I hesitate to mention it, but I think I’d better. Since Clover’s not here, there’s somepony else you might want to talk to instead.”
☙ ☀ ❧
When the sisters arrived where they’d been directed to go, they found a place unlike most of Cloudopolis; instead of being open and airy, it was enclosed and felt hidden away. Nestled down into the opaque lower structure of one of the largest cloud platforms of the city, the entryway extended a short distance into a vertical face of cloudstone before being blocked by the most solid and decidedly impenetrable door they had seen in the entire cloud-filled town.
Celestia approached and knocked on it.
Several seconds passed before she heard the faint sounds of somepony moving from the other side. More seconds passed while this movement grew closer, before the door finally creaked open. A mare with a black coat—or it may have just seemed so because of how dark the hallway was—peered out, head tilted at an angle so she could see through the cracked door.
She said nothing.
“Hello,” Celestia began. “Are you Storm Grey?”
“Why do you come looking for Storm Grey?” the mare asked.
“On the advice of Commander Hurricane,” Celestia replied.
“Oh, Hurricane, Hurricane,” the mare muttered to herself. “Have you finally sent them to me?”
“Were you expecting us?” Celestia asked, suddenly feeling unnerved and like she’d been left out of an important conversation at some point.
“That all depended on many things,” the mare said, “but here we are, so clearly it no longer depends. You’ve come, so come in.” She threw the door open and stood aside.
With the door open further, Celestia and Luna could see that the mare had both wings and a horn. They looked at each other, both a little taken aback.
“Well?” she tapped a hoof impatiently. “Get in! Won’t do any good, just standing here at the door all day.”
Celestia blinked and finally stepped forward. Luna followed. The mare turned and began leading them in, closing the door behind them once they were far enough.
They were led down the short hallway, which turned into stairs winding downward in a spiral. The walls were close and claustrophobic, and hard, made of cloud densely packed and smoothed. It was dark, despite the usual tendency of cloud to let light through, putting Celestia in mind of something more unicorn than pegasus, a wizard’s cloister of water-vapor-turned-granite.
Finally, the stairs ended, opening into a cavern-like space deep inside of what Celestia thought must have been the heart of the enormous cloud.
The chamber was circular, with regularly spaced niches around the perimeter. One such niche had a small bed, clearly a sleeping chamber. Another next to it had a tiny table barely big enough for one, and a chair, making up a sort of dining nook. There were small libraries crammed with bookshelves wall to wall and floor to ceiling, strange work areas filled with stranger devices, and storages for materials Celestia couldn’t readily identify from across the large room in the low light. The clutter extended partway out into the circular central area.
The heart of the room was something else, something Celestia had rarely ever seen, and something usually spoken of only in myths and rumors: there was a great circle on the floor, demarcated around the edges with the guides for a complex sigil of ritual magic that had been drawn on the dark cloudstone in faintly luminous silver ink. In the center of it all, right at the focus, there was a round silver basin a meter wide on a chest-high stand.
“What is all this?” Celestia asked in a hushed voice.
“My home,” Storm Grey said, “and my work.”
“You work in ritual magic?”
“Among other things.” Storm Grey nodded.
“Isn’t that… dangerous?” Luna asked uncertainly.
“Not for those who understand it.” Storm Grey shot Luna a hard glare.
They stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment.
“Anyway,” Celestia interrupted, “I see you, uh—” Celestia flapped her wings “—and you also, umm…” She pointed at her horn. “Are you…?”
“No, I’m not like you.” Storm Grey shook her head.
“Then what are you?”
“A pegacorn. Pegasus and unicorn,” Storm Grey said. “But not an alicorn.”
“What is an… ‘alicorn’?”
“All three. Unicorn, pegasus, earth pony.”
“Is that what we are now?” Celestia asked.
“Of course you are, silly girl!” Storm Grey snarled. “Who else could save all three but one who is all three?”
“One? There are two of us,” Celestia pointed out, gesturing to Luna.
“Details, details!” Storm Grey rolled her eyes. “Details are like water. Each drop so small, until they drown you in their endless numbers if you let them. What matters is that you’re here.”
“Why are we here?” Celestia asked. “Here talking to you, I mean. Hurricane sent us, but—”
“You’re here to find the mountain in your vision,” Storm Grey cut her off.
Celestia stared incredulously in silence for a long moment. “How do you know about that?”
“Yes, how would I know about the visions I sent?” Storm Grey asked with dry sarcasm.
“YOU did that?!” Celestia’s voice rose and her ears flattened. “You started all this? Everything my sister and I have been through?”
“Started it? Yes, I suppose I did,” Storm Grey said thoughtfully. “But not in the way you mean. It’s not all about you, you know. This didn’t start with you. The cracks that broke us apart were laid a long, long time ago. You’re not the ones who started this, just the ones who can finally end it.”
“Who—”
“I did.” Storm Grey stared at Celestia and Luna, and sighed. “I did. When I was young, and filled with ambition that came from mixing the fire of a pegasus with the cunning of a unicorn. I thought I knew everything, then. I thought I was the pony who could do what falls now on you. But I was only two, not three, and all I did was shatter us into three pieces and wound us all with a poison of hate that never let us be whole again.”
She paced, looking pensive and agitated. “Five hundred years ago, and the shame I carry still feels as fresh as yesterday.”
“You can’t possibly be five hundred years old,” Luna scoffed.
“I can with life extension magic. And let me say from experience, five hundred years is a long, long time.”
“There’s no such thing as life extension magic.” Celestia frowned.
“Believe me, knowing what I know now, I realize that there shouldn’t be,” Storm Grey said. “I plan to take the secret to my grave, ironic as that sounds. And I certainly don’t envy you.”
“What does that mean?” Luna inquired, half-closing one eye.
“Now doesn’t that bring us back around to why you’re here?” Storm Grey pondered, half to herself. “So. Enough story time! Let’s get on with it.” She lifted one hoof and pointed to the silver basin in the center of the room.
“What’s in there?” Celestia asked.
“What you need to see,” Storm Grey said.
“Another vision?”
“A future.”
“You can show us the future in there?” Luna asked dubiously.
“A future,” Storm Grey corrected her. “There is no the future.”
“Will it tell us what to do?”
“Only you can tell you what to do.” Storm Grey shrugged.
“Do you ever stop speaking in riddles?” Celestia asked in annoyance.
Storm Grey just stared flatly with eyes half-closed in a scowl and pointed to the basin.
“Fine.” Celestia scowled back, then turned and started marching toward it. “If that’s how it is.”
She passed through the runes and the wards, and entered the inmost heart of the silvery magic circle, standing before the pedestal. Luna followed alongside, joining her. Slowly, anticipation mingling with apprehension, they both leaned forward, eyes passing over the basin’s rim, and gazed into the waters within.
Both alicorns recoiled, pulling their faces away from the silver basin. Celestia whinnied and shook her head. Luna reared up briefly and then backed away with high hoofsteps. She looked around, breathing heavily with panicked eyes darting anxiously around the room.
Storm Grey stood still and silent until the two sisters calmed and reoriented themselves, returning to reality in the dark cloud-cavern den.
“Is— Is that really what happens?” Luna asked.
“Could be.” Storm Grey watched them closely.
“Only if—” Celestia stammered quietly, struggling to regain her voice. “Only if we—”
“Yes.” Storm Grey nodded. “Only if. It can only ever show you ‘only if.’”
“But why?” Luna cried out in anger. “Why would you show us that?”
“Would it be better had you not known?” Storm Grey asked sharply. “Would it hurt less to walk into it blind and stub your hoof in the dark by surprise instead?”
“Yes!” Luna screamed. “That might have been better!” Tears formed in her eyes. “But you’ve taken that choice from us now. What have you cursed us with, witch?”
“Witch?” Storm Grey smiled slowly. “That’s something I haven’t heard in a long time. I always know I’ve made the right choice when somepony calls me that.”
Celestia moved to stand beside Luna, extending a wing and rubbing her back to calm her.
“I think my sister’s question deserves answering,” Celestia said sourly, glowering at Storm Grey. “What sick game are you playing? Is there really some greater purpose to all this?”
“I don’t enjoy it, but I do what it takes,” Storm Grey snapped back in a harsh voice.
“Why is this ‘what it takes?’” Celestia’s voice cracked as she asked the question.
“Because if it was up to me…” Storm Grey lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. “I would have figured that out long ago. It would be my burden to bear, my suffering to suffer. But it’s not. I wasn’t wise enough. Now I suffer in a different way, while you pay the price for my failures. I’m sorry.”
“That still doesn’t answer why.” Celestia blinked back slow-welling tears.
“Because until now you merely tested your ability to become what you can become,” Storm Grey said. “But asking ‘can we’ is no substitute for asking ‘should we.’ My gift to you is that now you test your resolve, the way mine should have been tested before I dove into what I couldn’t bear to finish. Pass the test and become your vision, or don’t.” She shrugged. “But above all else, no half-measures! Those will only bring the greatest of all sorrows, the worst of disasters. Believe me, I know. Meet it head-on, or run now. Up to you. But it must be one of the two, not both.”
“Meet it or run…” Celestia whispered quietly, with a distant horror dawning on her face. “You did this because it’s not fated. We still have that choice, don’t we? We’re still the ones who have to choose to make it happen.”
“Of course you do, silly girl.” Storm Grey snorted. “What have I been telling you? What fool would believe in fate, when every day proves you have the freedom to choose what to make of it? No, the universe would never be so cruel, to chain you to an immutable fate. I said it before. Only you can tell you what to do.”
“I can tell you what I’d like to do,” Luna growled, wiping away tears. “After what you’ve made me see—”
“Your hatred is wasted on me,” Storm Grey scoffed. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me now, because I know my last chance when I see it. Now that I’ve given you this, my work is done. The last of my strength is used up. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
“Oh,” Celestia muttered, her eyes falling in sudden dismay. “I’m sorry. Is there anything we could do to help?”
“No. And don’t try, because it’s a relief, in a way.” Storm Grey waved her hoof in a dismissive gesture. “Five hundred years – it’s too long. It leaves me feeling stretched so thin. So thin…” She drew out the word, trailing off sadly.
Celestia raised her head to look at Storm Grey, and blinked in surprise. Something indefinable had fallen away. Beneath the dark and smoky façade of the mysterious wizard who had met them at the door, she suddenly saw the reality of Storm Grey, the real flesh-and-blood mare without the mask of power and the cloak of mystery to envelop her.
The change was disconcerting. Her visage almost seemed to have shrunk. All the proud stiffness was gone; she stood there now with drooping wings and a hanging head. Everything about her had the look of a pony old – no, ancient – beyond her years, one who had been beaten and scarred inside and out, exhausted and time-worn down to a thin shell.
Celestia found herself unable to stay mad. The heat of her anger dissipated into the cool air, leaving only a rising feeling of pity mixed with a vague melancholy sadness that came from the sense that she was witnessing the last fading days of something once-great, something whose story she would never truly know or understand, but whose echoes she felt she could still somehow hear in distant strains, like the crashing of great raging waves onto seaside cliffs from miles away.
“Is… is there really nothing we can do?” She asked, not entirely sure why other than out of sympathy.
“You can not make my mistakes,” Storm Grey said. “Now go. Go! Get out. I’m tired.” She looked up at them with a hard gaze, but after a moment it faded into a distant, unfocused stare. “…I’m tired.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia tossed and turned uneasily in the small cloud-bed in her room. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, everything she saw in Storm Grey’s basin would run through her head; memories now rather than visions, but no less invasive. Not being able to escape was exhausting, in a cruel irony that left her frustrated.
After what felt like hours of lying awake, she finally gave up on sleep altogether, kicking off her blankets and leaving the bare, impersonal bedroom. After a quick walk down the single short flight of stairs, she joined Luna on a couch made of cloud-fluff in an equally impersonal living room. The pre-furnished housing, devoid of any real sense of home, only added to the torment by serving as a stinging reminder that there was no longer a home for them to go back to, even if they’d wanted to.
“Can’t sleep?” Luna asked.
Celestia shook her head.
“I don’t suppose I will during the day, either,” Luna said softly.
A long, quiet moment passed.
“I’m afraid, Celestia,” Luna finally said, staring at the far wall and its generic painting of some nameless armored pegasus, barely visible in the dark. “I need to say that upfront. I won’t hide it; I’m afraid.”
“Should we talk about it?” Celestia asked. “Would— Would that help, I wonder, or just make it worse? If you don’t want to, I understand.”
“No, I don’t want to,” Luna said slowly, “but I think we’ve learned that it would only be an even bigger mistake not to.”
Celestia snuggled up next to her sister and they just leaned against each other for a little while.
“What did you see?” she finally broke the silence.
“We win,” Luna said, just above a whisper. “For now. And for a long time. New challenges come, and they go, and we keep winning. But nothing lasts forever. Nothing can escape being washed away eventually. Not even us.”
She hesitated before she found her voice again. “You and me, the… the closeness we have. It disappears, bit by bit, so slowly we can’t even see it happening, can’t swim against it being swept away in the rivers of time. Then one day, we’re too far, and it’s too late. We—” she swallowed a dry lump in her throat “—There are fights. Bickering. First a little one here, then another there. We argue. It gets worse the more it happens. I see anger on your face. I feel it in my chest, burning. Finally I feel as if there’s no going back, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because I say… things. Terrible things. I feel… like…”
“Like what?” Celestia whispered.
Her jaw trembled. “Like we’re not sisters,” Luna said, her voice shaky. “Not— Not anymore. I’ve given up, disavowed us as family. And I know that one of us has to go. I try to make it you, but it has to be me. I have to go somewhere. So I’m sent away. For such a long time. It feels like forever. Maybe it is forever, because I can’t see past it. All I know is… That’s all I feel, all I can think, for long, slow years that drag on and on. I’m angry, and bitter, and filled with hate and regret, and most of all, alone. It’s somewhere cold, and dark, and I am… alone. And it hurts so much.”
“I don’t want that to be what I saw, but it is.” Luna sniffed and wiped away tears. “But that’s how we save ponies. That’s the price, if we save ponies.”
“Luna, I love you.” Celestia reached over and pulled Luna into a hug. “No matter what happens, I love you, forever. Don’t ever forget. Please.”
She spent the rest of the night there with her sister, never wanting to let go.
☙ ☀ ❧
Luna and Celestia still sat together on the couch as morning sun—the morning Celestia silently cursed but brought forth nonetheless when the unstoppable, unfightable clock said it was time—poured in through the window, bathing the living room in white-gold light.
“You’ve put it off long enough,” Luna said. “Your turn.”
“I thought it would be easier in the light of day,” Celestia muttered.
“Is it?”
“No.” Celestia paused. “I’m just looking for an excuse not to say it out loud. I know that now.”
“I won’t make you if you don’t want to.”
“As much as I appreciate it—” Celestia sighed “—you said it yourself; we’ve learned that it would only be an even bigger mistake not to.”
Luna nodded slowly without speaking.
“Great things happen,” Celestia finally began. “A new kingdom arises. It has earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi in it. There’s peace. Ponies are happy.”
“Yes.” Luna nodded. “That much we both see.”
“And it lasts a long, long time,” Celestia continued. “We find what we seek. I see ponykind in the south. Towns spring up. Cities grow. I see a shining city on the great mountain of our vision. I see the lands around it transform, from wild to tame as our kind spreads over this world and settles it. Years wind by. I teach generations of unicorn mages. I lead little ponies of all kinds.”
“So we succeed,” Luna concluded. She was quiet for a moment. “But…”
“But.” Celestia nodded. “But there’s a common thread that runs through it all – all the long years, all the successes, all the great things. In all of it, one thing never changes.”
“What is it?” Luna asked softly.
“If we do this—” Celestia’s voice caught in her throat “—if it all happens the way I’ve seen—” Tears started running down her cheeks. She blinked through them, wetting and clumping her long eyelashes. “It’s what you say, we save ponies. But—”
She had to pause to swallow and take a deep breath before she could continue.
“But I’m alone,” she said in a cracking voice. “I send you away, and you’re gone, and I’m always alone. And there’s— I never— never realize how much I wanted it until it never happens, but—”
Celestia sobbed, long and ragged, and stared with her wet, rose-colored eyes into Luna's.
“—I never have foals.”
“Oh Celestia…” Luna pulled Celestia close and she collapsed, burying her face against Luna’s chest and breaking down into racking sobs of bitter anguish. In her wailing screams, barely muffled by Luna’s coat, she wordlessly cursed the daylight, cursed Storm Grey, cursed Hurricane, cursed Clover, cursed the unicorn kingdom, cursed her wings and her horn, and more than anything else, cursed the choices ahead.
☙ ☀ ❧
Later that morning, with her tears finally exhausted and replaced by determination to seek answers, Celestia made the flight to Commander Hurricane’s office alone. She was shown in by the office staff, who it seemed had been given orders to immediately send her in upon arrival. They ushered her quickly through the door and then left her alone with the Commander.
“Oh, hey. You make your decision yet?” Hurricane asked Celestia from behind her desk, barely looking up.
“Not yet.” Celestia shook her head.
“Then what’s up?” Hurricane asked.
“I’m curious about something,” Celestia said. “Why did you send us to Storm Grey?”
“So that you’d see what she’d show you,” Hurricane replied, stating the obvious.
“That’s not what I meant!” Celestia growled, immediately getting impatient. “Why did we need to see what she’d show us? You must have known it would be terrible. You sent us anyway. Why?”
“I didn’t know what you’d see.” Hurricane narrowed her eyes. “If I could know that, I wouldn’t have needed to send you.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense!” Celestia barked, starting to boil over with frustration. “If you thought it would be anything good, you’d have sent us right away, because what would be the downside? But you waited. You waited for a reason. I think you knew it would hurt us. So why do it at all? Answer me! I’m sick of these games everypony plays with us!”
A dark expression clouded over Hurricane’s face while she stood up, bristling. Celestia braced herself for the shouting she was sure was coming.
It never came. Instead, Hurricane breathed in and out several times, slowly loosening the tension in her posture. After cooling down, she slowly walked out from behind her desk, coming around to join Celestia in front of it.
“You any good at flying yet?” Hurricane asked.
“Passable,” Celestia said, taken a little by surprise. “Not great.”
“That’ll work. Fly with me.” Hurricane paced toward the door to her office and motioned for Celestia to follow. “There’s something I want you to see.”
She left the office, then the building, and took off, flying at a leisurely pace. Celestia went after her.
They flew for a few minutes, winding around the numerous structures and neighborhoods of the city, until Hurricane led Celestia into a landing at a secluded park ringed by tall pillars on a cloud near the periphery of Cloudopolis. It was quiet there, with other pegasi mostly seeming to keep a certain distance from it. Whether it was a reverent distance or a superstitious distance, Celestia wasn’t sure.
The park was filled with statues of pegasi, made of carved cloudstone atop round or rectangular bases. Hurricane walked toward the statues, and Celestia followed her. Drawing closer, she began to see that most of the bases of the statues were inset with little metal plaques that bore a name and a date.
An uneasiness fell over Celestia at the realization of what they meant.
“Are these heroes of Cloudopolis?” She asked.
“They are the great ponies we honor.” Hurricane nodded, continuing to walk slowly. “It’s a funny thing, being great. Somepony once said: some ponies are born into greatness. Some ponies achieve greatness. And some have greatness thrust onto them.”
Celestia wasn’t sure what to say to that. She followed Hurricane as she strolled around the park, meandering in a seemingly aimless weave.
“They all end up here, though,” Hurricane eventually continued while she studied the statue nearest her. “Don’t they?”
“I suppose they do.” Celestia nodded.
“And every single one of them would trade all that greatness for just one more day of life,” Hurricane stated. The bitterness in her voice took Celestia by surprise.
“Don’t get to know what dancing to the song of glory is going to cost until the time comes to pay the piper.” Hurricane stopped at a particular statue and stared up at it. “Or who might be paying.”
Celestia walked up beside Hurricane and studied the statue. The resemblance was striking. A sinking feeling told Celestia that it wasn’t just coincidental.
“Sorry,” Celestia mumbled awkwardly. “May I ask…?”
“My sister,” Hurricane said. She looked Celestia right in the eyes and pointed a hoof at the statue. “This one’s my sister.”
Celestia’s blood ran cold, then her stomach twisted and her ears burned while she struggled on shaking legs not to burst into tears all over again. All she could do was stand in place silently trying to calm down for a long minute or so, trying to think about anything but Luna.
“Are you alright?” Hurricane asked.
“I’m sorry.” Celestia cleared her throat and swallowed down unshed tears. “It’s just been a very emotional morning. And night.”
“Storm Grey has that effect.” Hurricane nodded. “But that’s just her own weird way of telling you what you need to hear.”
“I think she only made things a lot harder, to be honest,” Celestia said.
“Maybe.” Hurricane shrugged. “Or maybe it just seems like that right now.”
“It’s funny.” Celestia thought for a moment. “I’m still not sure I understand. She let us see the bad that would come with the good, but I don’t get the sense that she meant for any of it to change our minds.”
“No.” Hurricane shook her head. “No, I don’t think she ever changes anypony’s mind.”
“Then I still don’t understand any of this. Why did you wait so long to send us to Storm Grey?” Celestia asked. “Why even send us at all, for that matter?”
“Because I assumed Clover had some other plan, and I assumed she knew better than I did.” Hurricane shrugged. “So who was I to throw interference like old Stormy into it? But then Clover disappeared, and it was down to you. At that point, I kinda thought maybe you should know what you were getting yourselves into, because when it was my turn, I sure wish—”
She put a hoof on the statue before her and stared at it with an intense, sad gaze.
“—I wish I had known.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia walked in the door to find her sister still sitting in the living room.
“Any answers?” Luna asked, looking up from the book she was reading on the couch.
“Nothing helpful,” Celestia said glumly.
“What was unhelpful, then?”
“The most I could get out of it was that Commander Hurricane ‘thought we should know what we were getting ourselves into,’” Celestia said. “For all the good that’s supposed to do.”
“Oh well.” Luna sighed, before she looked up and gave her sister a wan smile. “At least—”
“—We’re in it together.” Celestia nodded.
“But our time is limited,” Luna fretted, “and we’re still no closer to deciding what our next move is.”
“As if responsibility for the sun and the moon wasn’t enough,” Celestia grumbled, flopping down on the couch next to Luna.
Luna was silent for a short while before she spoke again.
“You know, we can move the sun and the moon from Cloudopolis as well as anywhere else,” Luna pointed out carefully.
“Meaning?” Celestia probed curiously.
“Meaning, we could—” Luna closed her book and looked around “—We could just stay here. You could choose to find a stallion from many fine ones here among the pegasi. Have foals. I would like to meet my little nieces and nephews.”
Celestia thought about that for a long moment. “And maybe you’ll find a nice mare here, too.” She nodded. “I’d like to meet her.”
“Do we really have a reason to choose anything more than that?” Luna wondered aloud.
“If we don’t choose more, that might be the end of earth ponies and unicorns.” Celestia stood up and paced. “Which… I don’t know. That would be a tragedy. But—”
“But do we really owe anything to them?” Luna muttered, standing and pacing opposite the circle that Celestia was treading.
“After all they’ve done to us—” Celestia continued.
“Are they worth saving?” Luna pondered. “Would that even be the right thing, for us?”
“It’s not as if their loss would be the end of ponies, anyway,” Celestia said. “Only a changing of form. Maybe it’s not so bad if everypony has wings. Maybe it’s the pegasi who should inherit the world. They’re the only ones who haven’t treated us like garbage or disposable tools. They’re the ones who have the will to fight to be free of somepony else’s saddle. And they’re the ones who had enough of a shred of decency to consider giving us a choice.”
“All true.” Luna nodded. “They are good ponies. Or at least as good as we’re going to find.”
“I like it here, among them,” Celestia agreed.
“Leave the rest to their fate in the snow and ice, then?” Luna asked, with an intonation of doubt in her voice. She looked glumly at the floor. “Maybe it’s what they deserve…”
“Maybe some of them deserve it, yes.” Celestia stopped pacing and stared straight at Luna. “But we can’t.”
Luna likewise stopped in her tracks and stared back. “…No. No, we can’t, can we?”
“We’re here because of what the Unicorn Kingdom chose,” Celestia said. “And if it was wrong for them, then we can’t choose to do the same thing, because there is at least one pony who doesn’t deserve it. One pony we – I – made a promise to.”
“Winter Wheat, yes.” Luna nodded sadly. “But her foals for yours – that isn’t fair!”
“We were unicorns,” Celestia said. “We were part of the reason this happened in the first place. I don’t think it’s about fair anymore, it’s about setting things back to how they need to be. And to save everypony, what it takes is accepting that it falls on us to make right what unicorns made wrong. What every kind of pony made wrong in their own ways.”
“Why should we save everypony, then?” Luna asked bitterly. “It’s not our fault! Why can’t we just save Winter?”
“You know why,” Celestia responded.
“…Because if there’s one more like her, just one other as good as her, then they also deserve to be saved. And then one more, and one more…” Luna nodded. “We really can’t just abandon them, can we?”
“Not if we want to be good ponies.” Celestia shook her head.
Luna hugged Celestia, resting her head on her withers. “Are we good ponies?” she asked.
“That’s what we get to choose,” Celestia whispered, rubbing her cheek against Luna’s neck.
Luna nodded silently, with tears running down her face.
“That’s the move you want to make?” asked Commander Hurricane, staring incredulously at the two sisters standing before her desk. “Not sure whether to be impressed or just scared for you, but either way, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
“Presuming we succeed, things will need to happen quickly,” Celestia said. “How long will it take you to begin deploying forces?”
“A matter of hours,” Hurricane replied. “Less than a day, for certain. There’s a contingency plan in place for establishing a rapid occupation of the earth pony hinterlands around Quartz City. That’s been our primary drilling plan in the event of a full-scale conflict.”
Luna nodded. “A siege, in other words. What about invading the city itself?”
“We haven’t planned for that because it’s impossible,” Hurricane said. “The walls are too hard to penetrate from the ground, and the weather control system blocks pegasus flight. Our forces have no rapid way in.”
“They will soon,” Celestia said. “If we open your way, is that an avenue worth pursuing?”
“Possibly, in time.” Hurricane nodded, narrowing her eyes in thought. “But I wouldn’t want to try to rush in immediately. We would need some time to develop an operation plan to keep it orderly and not get mired down in urban combat against unicorn resistance, which is almost the worst kind of fighting imaginable.”
“Not a priority, then.”
“It seems likely to be unnecessary, anyway.” Hurricane nodded. “Again, as you said, presuming your success.”
“And if we don’t succeed, none of this will matter,” Luna pointed out.
Hurricane frowned. “I can’t say that’s too comforting. It’s usually extraordinarily poor military thinking for your whole strategy to depend on any one key pony. Or even two. Nopony should be irreplaceable.”
“It’s unfortunate, but the misfortune of it starts long before now,” Celestia said. “If we were replaceable and there were others like us, the whole situation might not be as it is in the first place.”
“True enough,” Hurricane agreed. “Well, you have to play the hoof fortune or misfortune deals you, I guess. Is this finally what’s in the cards? It’s war, then?”
“I truly hope not,” Celestia said darkly, “but if it is, it’ll be a short one.”
Luna nodded, looking grim. “Very short.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Celestia and Luna flew side by side in silence for most of their long flight. Quartz City lay to the northeast, and the tension twisted inside of Celestia’s belly as the air around them grew chilled. The morning seemed like it should be getting warmer with the rising of the sun into the sky—the sun Celestia set in motion herself—but a cold front had moved down from the north and brought a blanket of frigid winter air. The mingling of arctic freeze and… well, Celestia didn’t think she’d call the air to the south warm, just less cold… but in any case, the collision of air masses created winds and cloud, swirling in minor cyclones and buffeting them as they flew, but also providing some measure of cover for the approach.
Not that the Unicorn Kingdom would ever see this coming anyway, Celestia mused. That was really the key here; surprise had worked before, and it stood to reason that it was their best chance of making things work again.
And this? This would surprise everypony.
The land below gradually became familiar. It was the earth pony town Winter Wheat lived near. The sight of it sent new waves of tension through Celestia; it meant they were in the home stretch.
She banked to turn toward the north, with Luna moving in close synchronization. It wasn’t perfect, but still not bad, Celestia thought, considering the amount of time they’d had to hone their aerial skills.
Far in the distance, the landmark she was searching for came into view: the great northeastern aqueduct, the one she was so familiar with. The distant sight, visible from a couple kilometers away on Winter Wheat’s farm, was well-worn into her mind.
She flapped harder, picking up the pace as she dropped altitude down to just a few meters, practically skimming the ground. Fortunately, their line of approach was mostly over wilderness, and combined with the fallow state of the crop fields in winter, they avoided giving any earth pony farmers a surprise airshow.
The huge arches of the duct came into clearer view as they drew close, the individual square-cut blocks soon becoming visible in her now-sharpened eyes. They grew in her field of vision as the sisters flapped for them with all the speed they could muster. Then, they were there, just meters away. Celestia suddenly flared her wings and airbraked, and with a last couple of flaps pulled up slightly to pop over the upper edge and then dropped down to come to a landing on the outer canal wall.
Luna landed beside her and folded her wings, the air suddenly dead silent except for the water. They stared at it, clear, clean, and cold, babbling and tinkling softly as it flowed. It brought to mind a fresh, pure mountain stream, which made sense to Celestia, since it was a fresh mountain stream, just rerouted from the mountain and captured in a masterfully built trough of granite. Thirsty from their flight, she lowered her head and drank deep from the water, feeling the icy cold liquid flow down her throat and chill her stomach, bracing and recharging.
She only afforded herself only a few seconds’ rest, and then it was time to move. They waded on and followed the flow of water southwest on hoof.
☙ ☀ ❧
The walk down the aqueduct was slower than it would have been by air, but the closer they came to the city, the more they didn’t dare risk flying and being spotted prematurely. It was lucky that the duct was raised high enough and had tall enough canal walls that nopony on the ground outside the city was likely to spot them, and that it intersected and entered the city wall at a low enough point that nopony inside would, either.
When the long walk brought them to the end of the duct, they arrived at the reason for choosing this route: the aqueduct’s water flowed in through a low opening in the city wall, blocked by a grid of heavy steel bars, set close enough together to prevent a pony from passing through. It was further screened with finer steel mesh overlaid on that to catch any small debris that washed in.
Faced at last with this sight, Celestia and Luna looked at each other. They nodded in unison and went to work.
Celestia closed her eyes to protect them as her horn started glowing. Drawing power from the sun, she focused its energy as a point of intense heat on one of the steel bars, rapidly slicing through the metal in a fine line as it burned away. A shower of white-hot sparks hissed softly as they fell into the cold water. She cut through one bar, then moved on to the next, and the next, while Luna did the same on her side of the grating.
In moments, they had systematically sliced their way through. Luna telekinetically grabbed the grating and pulled it aside, leaving it leaning against the canal wall. “After you, sister.” She motioned with a hoof.
“Why, thank you, my dear.” Celestia mock-bowed and then crouched down low to half-crawl in through the opening. Luna followed after her.
The passage was dark and smelled faintly like algae. Water flowed off the end of the aqueduct’s canal and cascaded down into a large retaining tank, making a continual roar of white noise. Celestia and Luna had to pick their steps carefully to avoid falling over the edge with the water. They squeezed in next to each other as they inched forward as far as they could.
“What now?” Luna asked, raising her voice to be heard over the water.
“I suppose we teleport,” Celestia replied. “It’s that or rip the tank open to get out.”
“Teleport it is, then.” Luna nodded.
“I’ll handle it.” Celestia used a scrying spell to search beyond the tank and the surrounding water processing center. Immediately outside was a large plaza, centered with ornamental fountains that made a celebratory extravagance of a small fraction of the water pouring into Quartz City, while the rest ran off into underground utility pipes providing the drinking and industrial water that kept the city alive.
Celestia considered the next move. No, not into the plaza, that was no good… it was nice and open, which would make it easy to teleport into, but that was the problem; too big a place, too likely to be seen popping in. It was cold outside and there weren’t that many ponies out and about, but still, to get lazy and take an unneeded risk now, when they were so close… no.
She searched further. To the north, the plaza ended where a main street cut through the city. Not much good there either, too many store-fronts, too many windows… but alleyways branched off between some of the buildings, little-used and unwatched. She explored those, and finally found one where somepony had put up a fence blocking the view from the street. In the secluded area behind it, the walls on either side were solid stone, and not a soul around.
Yes, there. Perfect.
“I’ve found someplace,” Celestia announced.
Luna nodded. Celestia closed her eyes, waited for a silent three-count, and pushed with a teleport spell.
After a quick flash and a soft pop, she opened her eyes and found herself in the alley that she’d seen. Luna was next to her. They opened their saddlebags and took out the cloaks they’d brought with them, hiding their wings as they settled them around their backs and pulled the hoods up to at least partly obscure their faces from casual attention. With their minimal but temporarily adequate disguises in place, Celestia wasted no time in using her telekinetic strength to peel away the latch to the fence’s gate. It quietly swung open.
She poked her head around the gate and looked around cautiously, finding the alley still empty. She nodded to Luna, and Luna nodded back.
They exited to the street and began trotting, side by side, at a quick, nerve-charged pace.
“I didn’t think we’d see it again.” Luna’s voice was soft from under the hood of her cloak as she looked around at the stonework façades of the city.
“Neither did I,” Celestia replied.
Luna looked deep in momentary thought, turning her head to study the buildings. “I hate it,” she finally said, decisively, with a resolute nod.
“Hate?” Celestia asked. She pondered on this. “Save that feeling. We might…” Her eyes narrowed as she scowled. “We will need it.”
☙ ☀ ❧
The royal palace was just as Celestia remembered it. Set back in its expansive grass-covered grounds to create an imperious distance between it and the rest of the city’s pedestrian elements, the building offered exactly the same unfriendly front now as it had the first time they’d approached. If anything, it was worse now under the grey winter sky. Celestia remembered the intimidation, feeling an inch tall under the gaze of the guards, being made to feel unworthy, like she was nothing. As it welled up inside, she transmuted it to a low seethe of anger.
A moment after it swept over her, she was struck with a sudden clarity in her thoughts about how the way she’d felt that first time around at the palace was more than just one place. This palace was just the concentrated reflection; it was her whole life in microcosm, here in the Unicorn Kingdom – the feeling of insignificance, of being nothing, of constant intimidation, of utter hollowness.
Silent tears formed in her eyes. She blinked them away.
No more.
No more!
It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming those words aloud as she reached out with her telekinesis and opened the gate.
Time to look the monster in the eyes and stare it down.
She waited for Luna and they walked together down the path through the grassy palace lawn toward the long flight of stone steps leading to the massive bronze doors. The eyes of the royal guards were on them the whole way, as before, silently trying to drill into them and through them, even as the guards remained motionless. Celestia’s anger thickened her skin this time, callusing her against the effect.
Step by step, she hardened her will and grew more impervious, holding her head higher and prouder, horn pointing ever more upright to the cold grey sky. The unmoving guards seemed less and less real the more their statue-like visages did nothing to stop her approach.
As she reached the first step and began ascending, there was finally a stirring. The four guards around the door arranged themselves into a line, their armor softly clanking and their formidable spears held upright as they moved to cordon off the way.
Paying them no heed, Celestia and Luna continued climbing. They reached the top step and stood on the landing before the door.
They stared at the guards, who stared unflinchingly back. A tense few seconds rolled by.
“State your business,” one guard finally said. It was a mare, with a voice perhaps not as gruff as Celestia had been expecting: business-like, but not condescending or cruel.
Braced as she was for the worst, Celestia found herself caught slightly off-guard. For a moment, she couldn’t help but find it somewhat disarming; it wasn’t the voice of a monster, but one that belonged to a real pony, one like herself.
The dissipation of the anger she wanted to feel but didn’t gave her pause, forcing her to feel, against colder pragmatic logic, that maybe they should try talking first. She was sure reason wouldn’t prevail, but respect for the real pony she suddenly saw under the armor demanded that she at least try anyway, for whatever good it would do. “We need an audience with the court of Princess Platinum,” Celestia said. “Urgently.”
“Are you expected, ma’am?”
“No, I very much doubt that.” Celestia shook her head.
“You need an appointment to get an audience,” the guard stated. “That can be arranged by filing a request with one of the administrative offices in the city. If your request is granted, they’ll let you know the date and time of your audience by mail. Usually takes a few weeks to hear back. Wouldn’t hold my breath, though, not with the way things are right now.”
“I understand there’s a process, but we need to be heard immediately. Please. It’s extremely important.”
“If you don’t have an appointment letter, or some other authorization for entry, I can’t let you in,” the guard said, a little more sternly.
“Let me make it clear that we are not asking,” Celestia began. “I am telling you: we are entering. Prior scheduling is not a relevant concern to us; we will have an audience now. Open the door and move aside, all of you, or we will move you and we will open the door ourselves. You won’t like how we do it, but we will do what we must.”
All the guards lowered their spears, pointing them at the sisters.
“I’m warning you!” the guard raised her voice sharply. “Leave the palace grounds, now!”
“Our way, then,” Celestia said calmly.
“Are you listening?” the guard asked, exasperated. “Look, lady, I’m trying to give you an out here, but procedure is only so flexible and you’re on the wrong side of it! I don’t think you realize how much trou—”
She was cut off with a surprised gasp as Celestia’s horn lit up in a fraction of a second with a white-gold light too intense to look at directly. The magical defense crystals set in the front chestplates of the guards’ armor lit up in response. Celestia could feel their effect on her magic, the way they scattered and dampened it, trying to deflect and prevent it from reaching its targets. They would have succeeded and blocked her completely, too, if she was merely the unicorn she was before. Drawing from the vast power of the sun, now she simply brute forced beyond their capacity to absorb, and all four of the guards were swept aside like dry leaves in a gale wind by a wall of powerful telekinesis.
As Celestia pushed the guards aside, she focused down specifically on those crystals, having an awful time at first with their thaumo-scattering effects. Trying to get a magical grip on them felt like trying to grasp a greased eel. After some fumbling around she finally managed to get them pinned down, and surged a pulse of magic through her horn, applying a hard torquing force. The crystals shattered with high-pitched ting sounds and fell out of their settings, raining down in small, jagged, glittering pieces.
With their defenses gone, Luna joined in, horn lighting up in silvery blue. She worked something more subtle over the guards pinned against the palace wall. Their struggles slowed. In seconds, their eyes drooped shut and closed. Soft, rhythmic breathing replaced their cacophony of angry words as they fell asleep.
Once they were pacified, Celestia loosened her grip and gently set them down.
“Well done,” she said.
“I’m glad it worked,” Luna replied. “I didn’t want to have to hurt them.”
“Nor did I.” Celestia turned her eyes to the massive bronze doors and frowned. She remembered these doors well. They were impressive, decorated in fine detailed relief with life-like figures—proud kings, queens, princes and princesses, unicorn knights in heavy armor, griffons, warrior pegasi, eagles, dragons, all kinds of fearsome creatures. Glittering gems set in the eyes of those creatures served as anchors for powerful protective spells intense enough for Celestia to sense in her horn without even trying, like the heat radiating off of burning coals. “I’m worried this door might not be so easy to compromise with.”
“The door, however, I am willing to hurt,” Luna declared. She reached out with magic and probed at it. When she did, Celestia could feel the enchantments in the door flare up, blocking her.
“Be careful,” Celestia warned her sister. “These defenses are powerful.”
“We will have to be more powerful, then,” Luna said. “No time for puzzles. More guards are already on the way.”
“They might have blackseals on them,” Celestia pointed out.
“Magical lethal countermeasure locks?” Luna scowled. “That’s extremely illegal.”
“Who’s going to write the Princess a hazardous enchantment infraction citation?” Celestia scoffed.
“…Okay, good point,” Luna conceded.
“You’re right, though, we don’t have time,” Celestia said.
“What, then?” Luna asked.
“We will need to rely on each other,” Celestia said. “I think I can open the doors if you can protect me from them.”
“Do you think I can?” Luna fretted.
“I’m sure of it.” Celestia nuzzled Luna’s cheek. “You never let me down.”
Luna nodded and nuzzled her sister in return. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.
“I know you will.” Celestia nodded.
They faced the doors and their horns began to glow, white-gold and silver-blue. Celestia reached out and began probing at the massive bronze slabs, while Luna projected an aura that surrounded them in a protective shell.
The door enchantments were much more powerful than the anti-magical defensive crystals in the guard’s armor. Where those had been evasive and slippery, these were like barbed wire and broken glass, snagging and slicing at her magic with wicked ferocity. They felt like it in her mind, too, giving her uncomfortable prickling sensations – not physically, but something below her conscious thoughts, something indefinable, subtle but rankling, close enough on the verge of pain to make her feel an urgent unease and a need to withdraw and disengage her magic from the doors.
After a few seconds it was quickly growing unbearable, but then Luna changed something about her shielding spell, blocking some part of the response being directed back toward Celestia, and she felt the psychic counterattack subside. The discomfort faded away, leaving her mind settled and ready to focus once more. She kept her attention on the doors, pushing at them with greater and greater force of magic, powering through the snagging barriers bit by bit.
Seconds rolled by as she continued to rend her way in, keenly aware of the time this was taking.
She shook it off. Distraction wouldn’t help. Redoubling her concentration, she let the rest of the world fade away. She was only barely conscious of feeling Luna’s magic sweeping out behind them with a blast of telekinetic force, knocking a second wave of guards rushing toward them from across the palace lawns off their hooves and sending them tumbling away like flotsam in a tsunami, and Luna’s distant voice urgently warning her that they were running out of time.
“I know!” Celestia gasped out. “Almost there!”
She squeezed her eyes shut and intensified her magic as she tore in. Finally, to her relief, she suddenly reached the cold, inert feeling of bare metal, touching the actual bronze of the doors.
At last! Maintaining her concentration, she felt around until she found the latches holding the doors shut, then pulsed even more magic in, focusing it to a fine point and manifesting it as heat. The bronze softened and turned viscous, feeling like clay, and then like thick syrup, and she deformed it and pushed it aside.
The magical clawing and resistance from some of the gems set in the doors suddenly disappeared, their enchantments blinking out of her magical sight as the crystals heated up and cracked under thermal stress. With this lessened interference, she was able to pump a massive surge of magic through straight into the doors. They yielded unexpectedly under the force, flying open at incredible speed and slamming into the backstops in the interior so hard that they bounced off and nearly swung all the way shut again.
“We’re in.” Celestia’s horn stopped glowing.
She calmly walked to one of the doors and pushed it open, then stood at the door and motioned with a hoof. “After you, sister.”
“Thank you.” Luna obligingly entered the palace first, followed by Celestia, who closed the doors behind them and used a beam of magic to quickly weld them shut again, sealing out the exterior guards.
The sisters took a moment to stop and look around warily, taking in the palace’s grand vestibule. The opulence it was steeped in felt like a pure manifestation of the imperious arrogance that Celestia had come to hate so deeply.
Save that feeling. We will need it.
Now was the time. Celestia cast away all restraint and let it fill her to the brim. She walked side by side with Luna toward the large hardwood doors directly ahead, the last barrier between them and Platinum’s court.
With a mighty crack and a resounding boom, the inner court’s dark hardwood doors flew open in a burst of white-gold light.
The proceedings within came to an instant halt. Whatever words Princess Platinum had been speaking from her red velvet-lined throne at the top of the dais suddenly died as the confused faces of the court officials and nobles turned to the entryway. Some stood their ground, some briefly scrambled for distance, and a few timidly ducked behind whatever cover they could find.
The sisters crossed the threshold from the grand vestibule into the court chamber, striding forward into the ominous, settling silence, wreathed in the floating dust still settling around them. Celestia panned her head slowly, rose-colored eyes sweeping over everything as she took in the room and surveyed the situation. Eyes of various hues met hers in return. Many of them spoke without words: of confusion, of dismay, of fear, but not of immediate resistance.
Good, she thought, they’re surprised. This was what she’d been hoping for. It would be easier to get a hoofhold in the room and contain things neatly.
Luna, it seemed, was already ahead of her on that. Her horn glowed silvery-blue and the doors slammed shut behind them with as much force as their opening, then shimmered faintly with a sealing-spell preventing them from being opened again.
Finally, just as Celestia started to wonder if anypony was ever going to actually respond, there was movement. A middle-aged yellow unicorn mare with a fiery orange mane wearing a short red cape trotted quickly across the court floor to meet them. As she closed in, Celestia could see rage burning in her pale green eyes. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing here?” she seethed in a low voice, already waving over a quartet of royal guards.
In answer, Celestia and Luna pulled off their cloaks. Gasps of surprise and confusion rose from the court-goers watching them as they revealed their wings. The unicorn confronting them looked puzzled and apprehensive for a fleeting moment, then returned to looking angry. If anything, she seemed more hostile now.
“I am Celestia. This is my sister, Luna,” Celestia announced herself in a voice amplified by a magic spell making her loud enough to project across the court and rattle the windows. “We are here for an audience with Princess Platinum.” She dropped the spell and her voice returned to normal, addressing the unicorn in front of her. “And who might you be?”
“Sear Blaze, majordomo of the Platinum Court,” the yellow unicorn responded. “I don’t… you’re not on the agenda, and how… are those wings? What are you? Unicorns or pegasi?”
“Yes,” Celestia responded, without missing a beat, “and earth ponies, too, I’m told, if you can believe that.”
Sear Blaze blinked, processing this answer for a moment. “Pegasi are not welcome in the Platinum Court,” she finally said, after collecting herself. “Guards! Remove these savages.”
The guards advanced, menacing in their armor. They swung down their long spears and leveled them at the sisters, only to be swept aside as Celestia reached out with a tidal wave of kinetic force, throwing them back against the stone walls and stunning them. She seized their weapons, wrenching them away with trivial ease, and set them orbiting slowly about herself, oriented vertically with the tips upright and glowing softly with magic.
“What is this?” Sear Blaze cried out in desperate confusion, looking back and forth between the pile of guards and the sisters. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever agenda you had set before is obsolete,” Celestia stated loudly. “We are the agenda now. Our audience will commence immediately. Stand aside, or be moved aside.”
“I will not!” Sear Blaze scowled, stiffening her legs and locking in her hooves on the marble floor in a show of defiance. “Business in this court observes an orderly, proper procedure, and it is my job to mediate how—”
“Majordomo,” Platinum’s surprisingly soft voice interrupted, “I will make an exception for the moment. Allow them forward, lest you get hurt as well.”
Sear Blaze’s eyes widened in momentary surprise. “Y– Yes, Princess.” She unlocked her legs and moved aside slightly, then motioned for the sisters to step forward. Her flattened ears plainly showed her displeasure, but she complied with the instruction and ushered them toward the dais.
They took their position in the center of the court, and at last, they stood before Princess Platinum. She looked down at them from her throne, while they stared up at her. Everypony was motionless, watching warily for the next move. In the tense, utterly noiseless court, a pin drop would have sounded like a cymbal crash.
“So you’re the thaumites who turned rebel on me,” Platinum said, breaking the spell of oppressive silence. “The sisters who dared to steal the sun and moon.”
“Oh, no.” Luna shook her head. “I was never a thaumite. I haven’t graduated from my apprenticeship yet.”
“And clearly I am a thaumite no longer,” Celestia added. “If I were still in Thaumosciences, my discoveries and new responsibilities in solar magic would warrant a promotion to mage, at least. With the circumstances as they are, however, I think I can assume I no longer have a position there.”
“Hmmph. We stand corrected, for which I commend you, as it is something very few ponies have the courage to do,” Platinum said. “Now I understand you want an audience with my court. Very well. Have it, if that will satisfy you. What is your petition?”
“We are not here to petition,” Celestia responded. “We are here to state our demands.”
“You come into my court to demand of me?” Platinum narrowed her eyes. “By what right?”
“The sun and the moon are under our control,” Luna pointed out. “We are the bringers of day and night now, not you. This gives us rather extensive rights to set terms, which, frankly, you are in no position to refuse.”
Platinum stared quietly for a moment, with an unreadable stone face that made the hairs on the back of Celestia’s neck prickle. Seconds dragged by. Celestia almost couldn’t bear Platinum’s penetrating eyes, but also didn’t dare to look away from them. Something told her breaking now would be a disaster. How could she make demands if her nerve was so frail she couldn’t withstand a simple staring contest?
“Sun and moon, under your control?” a voice called out from the court crowd. “Let’s not entertain that sort of self-aggrandizement until it’s proven. All we really know for sure is that you two are traitors to Thaumosciences and to the Unicorn Kingdom.”
Celestia finally broke away from Platinum and turned to look. She recognized the voice and felt a sense of great displeasure as the pastel fuchsia unicorn it belonged to pushed her way forward out of the court crowd and stepped into the open floor before the dais.
“You doubt us, Mage Star Fire?” Celestia asked.
“Of course I do,” Star Fire said, with a contemptuous snort. “You were talented, when you were one of my thaumites, but not that talented.”
“Perhaps you were just so busy hating earth ponies that you never understood my sister in terms of her true talents,” Luna shot back.
“Or perhaps the two of you are simply front-pieces for the ambitions of somepony else who does have a credible claim to the kind of talent it would take,” Star Fire speculated.
“And who might this hypothetical somepony be?” Celestia asked warily.
“Ha! You came here not even knowing we’ve already captured her, didn’t you?” Star Fire grinned in the way that Celestia knew so well and hated so much. “Caught red-hooved in a lie, in this very court – a lie about the magic you’ve been recklessly experimenting with. Haven’t you? You and the Cardinal?”
Celestia remained silent and wore a blank mask as her stomach sank.
So that’s why Clover’s been silent. How much do they know?
Star Fire paced before the sisters, strutting with infuriating confidence. “Oh yes, Clover’s time has finally come,” she crowed in a rising voice. “She showed us her true colors. Clever, oh-so-clever, isn’t she? I think we all see it now: clever enough to plan to seize power for herself, clever enough to stage a coup to wrest it, and clever enough to do it from behind the scenes, hiding right under our muzzles. But no victory comes without action – so who to put in front to take action for her? If she is to be the king on the chessboard, who to make her queen, her rook, her knight? Who shall be the pieces of power that she moves boldly and perhaps sacrifices in order to win?”
Star Fire dramatically pointed an accusing hoof. “You! You and your sister, naïve pawns, here to make her move and do her bidding! Aren’t you?”
Celestia faltered. “Cardinal Clover is not—”
“Don’t deny it!” Star Fire shouted in a burst of sudden rage. “We already have the evidence of her lies. You insult this court if you try to lie to us as well!”
“How can you possibly know what we’re trying to say and whether it’s a lie?” Luna flattened her ears in irritation. “This court has not even heard us yet, thanks to your frankly very rude interruption and wild accusations derailing our attempt to conduct business here.”
“And I see no reason why this court should hear you!” Star Fire cried. “You have no legitimate business!”
“Now, really, Mage, this is uncalled-for.” Luna frowned. “You don’t understand the situation. You’re just getting in the way of—”
“The situation is that the two of you are out of your place!” Star Fire shouted back. “Is it demands you want? Fine! If demands are the order of the day, then I have one: I demand to exercise my prerogative as your superior to impart discipline and put you back where you belong, Celestia!”
“Cardinal Clover is – was – my superior most recently,” Celestia said softly.
“Even if you weren’t co-conspirators, the clever Clover is currently stripped of her duties,” Star Fire replied. “It falls to me as the next most recent of your supervisors.”
“And what do you propose you will do to me? Hmmm?” Celestia asked. “Settle the score with a contest of magical strength? Because if so, I’m warning you… You. Will. Be. Crushed.”
Celestia paused and glared straight at Star Fire, her rose-colored eyes locking onto her opposite’s purple, daring her to blink. Neither of them did.
Star Fire smirked. “Oh, how frightening!” she trilled mockingly. “Any other warnings I should heed?”
When those taunting words dripping with sneering sarcasm and their hateful, spiteful tone hit her ears, it was the last straw, finally too much for Celestia to tolerate. Something snapped inside her and her vision swam with red while fiery hot blood burned in her ears and chest. It was all she could do not to instantly blast the arrogant mage right out of her horseshoes where she stood.
“I’ve had enough of you, Star Fire,” she growled. “You’re a monster. You’ve terrorized and used me. You’ve threatened my sister. You’ve tried to find an excuse to destroy at least one of my friends. And all of that pales in comparison to your heartless greed for personal advancement at the cost of selling out the future.”
“I did nothing wrong—”
“SILENCE!” Celestia’s voice boomed out through the court, so loud that the crowd collectively winced. She felt a twinge of guilty sardonic pleasure at seeing Star Fire’s ears flatten in pain.
“And even after all that,” Celestia continued, “I was willing to just forget it for the sake of moving on and moving forward with what must be done. But if you insist… if you insist on this now, this time, I will NOT have any mercy. You are the one out of place now, Star Fire, and you get no more free passes, not from me. Get out of my way or this will end badly, I promise.”
“Do you think you can duel me, then?” Star Fire grinned her infuriating grin again.
“Mage, please, remember that discretion is the better part of valor,” Luna tried to interject desperately. “You don’t know what torment my sister has been through and what this has already cost her. Don’t make it worse by doing something foolish and finally forcing her hoof, I beg you. If you have any scrap of decency left, step away!”
“No, foolish little Luna,” Star Fire said, slowly. “You two haven’t yet shown us here in this court that you’ve earned demands. And I don’t think you will. I’m calling your bluff. Fight me, or you won’t go any further with this charade.”
Celestia felt her heart pounding as the reality of what she had to do sank in. Star Fire stood before her, consuming her focus, and the rest of the world seemed to stretch away. She was only half-aware of Luna’s voice, pleading for sanity, pleading with Princess Platinum to order Star Fire to stand down, and Platinum’s resounding, stone-faced silence as she watched imperiously from her throne, letting it all happen.
“A fight it is, then.” Celestia lowered her head and scuffed at the floor with one hoof, pointing her horn at the mage in front of her.
☙ ☀ ❧
“Celestia!” The voice was distant, rolling from across the vast open fields.
“Luna!” Celestia called out. “Luna, where are you?”
Celestia pushed through the thick grass, shaking her head with annoyance at the tips of the tall blades brushing her face and making her blink them away. It was only belly-high on grown-ups, not even a minor inconvenience for them, but for little fillies, it was a jungle, holding the promise of exploration and exciting adventure. This made it one of her favorite places to play.
It felt like a strangely long time since she’d been here, for some reason. This place felt like it was… familiar, but old. She couldn’t put her hoof on why. It didn’t seem right. She didn’t feel old enough for things to be old to her.
How old was she? She couldn’t remember, somehow.
“Tia! Tia!” Luna’s voice, in the characteristic pitch of her sister that Celestia would recognize anywhere, reached her through the grass from somewhere distant. “Where’d you go?!”
“Are you lost, Luna?” Celestia asked loudly.
“I… seem to be,” Luna answered. “I’m trying to find you.”
“Okay, well, don’t wander off any further into the grass!” Celestia called back. “Just stay where you are and keep shouting. I’ll find you. Just give me a minute.”
“Tia!” Luna yelled again, more urgently this time. “It’s coming!”
“What’s coming?” Celestia asked in confusion, trying to push through the grass in the direction she thought Luna’s voice came from. “What are you talking about?”
“The…” Luna hesitated. “The hornet’s nest, Tia! Remember the hornet’s nest? The wasps?”
“You found more hornets?” Celestia asked with worry. She picked up her pace, pushing through the grass. “Just back away from the nest, Luna, and leave them alone! They won’t hurt you if you don’t bother them. I’m coming for you, don’t worry. I’ll protect you, like last time!”
“No, not me!” Luna cried. “It’s you, Tia! It’s after you!”
“Luna, I’m fine. There are no hornets anywhere near me.” Celestia stopped in her tracks and suddenly felt very confused and apprehensive as she looked around.
“Not yet, but it’s coming!” Luna yelled back. “I’m trying to… don’t you remember, the spell you used when I was a little filly? The time I walked right into the nest of hornets and you had to use the shield spell to protect me from them?”
“What on Equus do you mean, ‘when’ you were a filly?’” Celestia asked. “You are a little filly, Luna. I know you want everypony to think you’re a big girl now, but—”
Something rumbled distantly as it moved through the grass, something dark and foreboding that Celestia could feel somehow, more than see. It emanated an aura of menace that chilled her.
“She’s coming!” Luna cried out. “You need to use the spell again to protect yourself, like you used to protect me!”
“She who?” Celestia asked with sudden dread.
For a moment, there was no answer, and Celestia stood still, listening for the approaching threat.
The grass near her began to rustle, and a moment later a small blue form pushed through it. Being reunited with Luna brought relief at first, but the look of urgency on her sister’s face now that she could see it only brought the tension right back.
And since when did her sister have wings?
“Don’t you remember, Tia?” Luna asked pleadingly.
“Remember what?” Celestia asked, in a quivering voice.
“Where we are! What we’re doing!” Luna replied urgently. “The duel! You’ve got to defend yourself!”
The rumbling grew nearer. The sound of grass being thrashed as something trampled through it started building.
“H– How?” Celestia asked. “That thing… it’s way too big…”
“Our power!” Luna said. “Use the sun and moon!”
“I… I don’t know what you mean…”
The grass around them began visibly shaking. Something tall, towering, closed in, looming over them, casting a frightening shadow.
Celestia looked up, and cowered. A colossus stood before them, a tall unicorn with a pastel fuchsia coat and pin-straight mane, dark violet and striped with crimson, framing vibrant purple eyes with a radiating aura of stern authority. It carried a terrifying sense that Celestia was about to be in trouble. She wasn’t sure what she had done, but she was sure it was something bad – very bad. It was the type of bad that meant severe punishment. Dread filled her like her soul being doused in ice-water.
Luna’s face contorted with a mix of determination and anger. To Celestia’s surprise, and horror, she puffed her tiny chest and gritted her teeth as her horn began to glow.
“No, Luna, don’t make it worse—”
A shocking wave of magic, far stronger than she’d ever remembered her little sister being capable of, struck Celestia by surprise.
Whatever Luna was doing, it was like nothing Celestia had felt before. Images flashed through her mind in a blazing, dizzying torrent. They shook her, rattling her thoughts, jolting memories into motion like rust-frozen bolts finally being lubricated and broken loose to spin free. Earth ponies. Pegasi. Alicorns. Wings. Flying. Entanglement in secret plans. Princess Platinum’s court.
A fight. A duel!
“Tell me now, who’s about to be crushed?” the looming figure overhead asked. “When I’m done with you, Celestia, you’ll wish you’d never—”
Star Fire. It suddenly came to her. The intimidating unicorn looking down on her was Star Fire.
Celestia, you’ve got to beat her! Use the sun! A thought that she knew was Luna’s screamed in her head.
The sun… the sun! The glorious sun! She remembered, and suddenly, joy filled her through and through. The exaltant feeling of moving the sun, soaking in its power, her talent, her cutie mark, her very purpose for living!
Who was this shadow over her, compared to that?
Nothing. Nothing at all!
She remembered… she remembered everything now. She reached out and let the sun flood into her, with sudden perfect clarity, brimming with energy, feeling more alive than she ever had before.
Star Fire’s face, towering so high above, contorted in anger, and her horn began to glow in a violently intense purple aura. Celestia could feel the magic building in it, focusing for the attack aimed to strike her down before she could gather power to defend herself.
“The shield spell for the hornets, was it?” Celestia muttered softly. “Yes. That should do perfectly.” In an instant, her horn lit up in white-gold and a magical sphere of the same color surrounded her and Luna.
A deadly disintegration beam shot out from Star Fire’s horn, striking the white-gold shield. Celestia barely even registered the impact. It diffracted, scattering and causing narrow swaths of grass to collapse into hot glowing dust along the paths of the broken beam, but the two sisters were utterly unharmed and unphased.
“Too slow, Star Fire.” Celestia smiled sublimely.
Looking out through her shield, Celestia was suddenly aware that Star Fire was no longer towering, no longer larger-than-life, but back to the regular height she remembered now, no taller than Celestia herself. Celestia, for her part, was grown now, standing high enough to easily see over the grass and face her adversary through a clear field of vision. She no longer saw a looming, imposing paragon of absolute authority. Instead, she just saw a bully, filled with sudden fear and doubt over finally having to face somepony her own size.
No, not her own size.
Bigger.
Much, much bigger.
She would soon find out just how much bigger.
Celestia closed her eyes and reached out with her magic. She could feel Star Fire reach back, trying to push her away, to keep her magic at bay. Strong as Star Fire might have been for a unicorn, it felt so very, very weak, compared with the power Celestia had now.
“You’re finished, Star Fire!” Celestia cried out in triumph. “Finished!”
Star Fire desperately tried to put her own shield around herself. Celestia could feel the panic from her foe as she tore the shield apart like paper and reached inside to envelop Star Fire in a steel vice-like grip. First one struggling limb was in her grasp, then another, and soon all four, then Star Fire’s entire body, her neck, her head. She was immobile and helpless.
Celestia slowly opened her eyes, and she was back in the Platinum Court. She took in the sight of the shocked faces of the court crowd, staring at her. Soft murmurs of uncertainty and dismay rose from them as she held Star Fire magically suspended in mid-air before the dais, where Princess Platinum watched, still stony-faced, from the throne.
What will you do with her? Luna asked telepathically.
Celestia thought about this for a few seconds.
Hesitant as she was, she couldn’t escape it. There was only one real answer.
What I must. We’ll never be taken seriously, otherwise.
Luna nodded, slowly, sadly.
“I… you win… I concede…” Star Fire choked out.
“No,” said Celestia flatly.
“What?” Star Fire tried to squirm but remained helplessly trapped, unable to move more than her jaw. “You’ve won! Now put me down! Mercy! Please!”
“Let you go now? Why?” Celestia asked, in a gravelly voice, cold like death. “So you can continue to plot and scheme? So you can work behind the scenes, bending the truth, creating lies, twisting words, all for your own petty power while others bear the price of your madness? So you can keep working against us?”
Star Fire’s eyes darted back and forth in growing panic.
“And would you have shown mercy, if you had prevailed?” Celestia asked. “I think not. You were going to do something even worse than kill us. The spell you used – it was clever, knowing you were outmatched, to try to circumvent our power. Cut us off from our true selves and make us feel so helpless that we don’t even fight back: isn’t that just the perfect example of how you’ve always treated the ponies around you? Aren’t you just the perfect reflection of everything wrong in the Unicorn Kingdom?”
Celestia paced for a long moment.
“No,” she said at last. “No, you were warned, more than once. Now it’s too late. Your kind of malfeasance can’t continue, not in any sort of just world. Everypony has to be made to understand: at some point, this kind of wickedness can’t be tolerated any longer – so now, you are the warning.”
Without hesitating any longer, she gripped Star Fire’s neck and imparted a sudden sharp pulling and twisting motion. Something cracked and separated with a hard snap. Star Fire went limp.
The deed done, Celestia released her hold. Star Fire fell to the stone floor and collapsed like a rag doll with a dull thud. Her eyes, still open, gazed away at nothing in a lifeless thousand-yard stare.
After a chorus of shocked gasps followed by a long moment of stunned silence in the court, Sear Blaze darted over to Star Fire and felt around her neck, looking for a pulse. After several tries, she gave up and just stared at Celestia, shrinking down meekly in shock while she made a weak effort to drag Star Fire’s body away.
“No more interruptions!” Celestia looked around the court, cowing every face her eyes crossed, and finally turned to stare up at Platinum. “Now, we will state our demands,” she said sternly, “and you will comply with them, without reservation. Is that finally clear?”
“Having now committed murder in my court, what legitimacy do you have left for demanding anything?” Princess Platinum asked haughtily.
“I suggest a better question: now that we’ve gone this far, where do you think we will stop if we don’t get what we want?” Celestia countered.
“Is that a threat?” Platinum growled.
“I wish it didn’t have to be, but that’s up to you.” Celestia took a step closer to the throne, staring at Platinum and locking eyes on her.
For the first time, a crack finally showed in the hard-as-stone royal façade. There was no staring contest now. Instead, Celestia watched with the half-guilty satisfaction of schadenfreude as Princess Platinum seemed to realize her position and shifted uncomfortably on her throne.
“What is it you would demand, then?” Platinum asked cautiously.
“You will descend from your throne and surrender yourself to us, immediately.”
If the silence from the rest of the court had been tense before, now it suddenly took on a chilling depth, as if everypony was in such shock that they had stopped breathing. Their paralysis was not merely noiseless, but almost seemed to be somehow actively absorbing sound into an auditory black hole.
Seconds passed slowly, at an almost unbearable crawl.
“Out of the question!” A deep voice finally cried out, exploding from the court crowd.
Celestia snapped her head to look in the direction of the outburst that had shattered the dead quiet. The crowd parted as a muscular stallion with a pale blue coat and a deep azure mane marched forward, wearing a silk sash hanging with rows of military medals across his chest, quietly jangling as he walked.
Their eyes locked. She recognized the stare he leveled at her, trying to drill into her with his icy grey gaze. It was the same stare that the royal guards had so intimidated her with the first time she came to the palace. It was the same stare that the guard at the transit station gave her on those cold uncomfortable early mornings. It was the same stare that always came from somepony in armor, somepony outranking her, somepony who could make her cower, all her life.
It was a stare omnipresent in her memories, in which she had seen authority, power, and strength. But now, with a sudden clarity, she saw what was underneath.
She only saw brittle fear.
With that unmasking, it felt impossible to be angry at the ponies staring that stare. All she felt was sad for them instead.
“Oh? Is surrendering so unthinkable?” she asked.
“It is, and I will defend my princess to the end!” The stallion cried out, leaping forward to interpose himself between Celestia and the throne… or, would have, had he not struck something invisible in mid-air. He stopped abruptly with a dull thumping sound and crumpled to the floor halfway between the throne and the gallery the crowd occupied.
A silver-blue glow slowly faded from Luna’s horn as she let the unseen barrier drop. “There is nothing noble about throwing your life away, sir,” she said in a scolding voice edged with frustration. “Has Star Fire’s example taught you nothing?”
He picked himself up, slowly, looking dazed and reproachful. “It is my duty,” he mumbled, with blood dripping slowly from his muzzle. “What else is a royal guard to do?”
“Royal guard?” Luna asked softly. “Is that what all these are for?” Her horn glowed as she lifted the silk sash, pulling it off the stallion and bringing it close to herself. She inspected the medals, row after perfect row of gleaming bronze, silver, gold, platinum, all hanging on colorful ribbons.
“I am the Commander-General of the royal guard, in addition to holding a post as part of the princess’s military advisory council,” the stallion snapped in response. “I’ve earned them through long service, and you have not, so I will thank you to give those back!”
“Certainly, if you will return to the gallery and keep your peace,” Luna offered.
He scowled. “I would never surrender my princess for mere trinkets.”
“Fortunately for you, then, we are not asking whether or not you would surrender. It’s for her to decide.” Celestia pointed at Princess Platinum.
“Lord Shining Shield, do ask they ask,” Platinum directed the stallion. “I don’t think there is anything to be done here that will be worth dying for, now.”
“I… As you command,” he agreed hesitantly. “I trust in you, as always, to make the right decision.” With that, he slowly turned and walked backed to the gallery, rejoining the crowd. As he neared, a mare offered him a cloth for his bleeding nose. He accepted it, holding it over his nostrils while he continued glaring at the two sisters.
“As promised, Lord Shield, your decorations.” Luna floated the sash back over to him and returned it, gently releasing it to his magical grasp.
“You see?” she asked, turning back to Platinum. “Things can be done reasonably, if we’re all willing to cooperate like reasonable ponies.”
“You think it is reasonable to demand my surrender, when Mage Star Fire’s point still stands?” Platinum asked. “We have not yet seen your claims to control the sun and moon validated.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Shall we validate them for you?” Celestia asked. “It would be a reasonable thing to offer in exchange.”
“It would be a start,” Platinum returned warily.
“Fine. Then watch.” Celestia’s horn glowed in white-gold, and Luna’s in silvery-blue. The daylight coming through the windows from outside began to shift, changing angles from nearly vertical to diagonal, then horizontal. In a few moments, the sun sank low, shining in from the west in deep orange as it slipped toward the horizon. Simultaneously, the moon ascended, taking over the darkening sky.
Luna parked the moon, letting it hang motionless, ruling over the heavens in the untimely night. Celestia kept moving the sun, feeling it on the far side of the planet, maneuvering it into just the right position, until a slight red crescent began to stain the moon. She made fine adjustments, moving slowly, watching the crimson wash over the silver, further and further, until the eclipse was complete and the moon was a brilliant, eerie scarlet pouring through the windows like blood.
Some of the court crowd looked aghast as they stared. There hadn’t been a lunar eclipse in living memory, and they blanched at the spectacle.
“Now do you believe us?” Celestia asked.
“A blood moon. Such a terrible omen of calamitous changes of fortune hasn’t been seen in generations.” Platinum studied the sight from her throne. “They portend great changes of power. Are you trying to say you came here as conquerors?”
“Oh, no.” Celestia shook her head. “I think you misunderstand: we’re not interested in taking over the Unicorn Kingdom. This was never a march of conquest.”
“Then… if not to seize power, what are you doing here?” Platinum asked.
“Let me put it this way: in a game of chess, when you checkmate the king and take him off the board, you win, yes?” Celestia replied. “Does it matter how many other pieces the other player still has, as long as that happens?”
“Taking the king off the board? Then…” Princess Platinum’s face fell as she put the pieces together. “This is a decapitation strike, isn’t it?”
“Correct.” Celestia nodded a single slight nod.
“Well. I see.” Platinum puffed her chest and held her head high, putting on a brave face. “Then decapitate me, if my time has come. I won’t resist, if you’ll only spare my court in exchange. Please, you… you spoke of being reasonable. That is a reasonable exchange, isn’t it?”
“Noble, but again, you misunderstand.” Celestia looked around the room. The crowd in the gallery was stirring, with a few rubbing their necks half-consciously, looking anxious and fearful after hearing something about ‘decapitation.’ Celestia raised her voice to make sure they would hear her clearly. “Stay calm! Star Fire’s poor judgment notwithstanding, we didn’t come here to kill anypony. All of you ponies of the court will, however, be detained. You will serve as hostages to ensure compliance with certain conditions.”
“What ‘certain conditions’ would those be?” Platinum asked.
“The first is what we have already stated, Princess: you will surrender yourself to us. The second is that you will bring Cardinal Clover to us, without delay,” Celestia said. “There will be more to follow, and they will be made known in good time, but for now let’s start with those two and see where things go.”
“And if I decline any of them?”
Celestia gave Platinum a hard glare. “For the sake of Quartz City, you will not. I promise you. What happened to the thaumocontrollers isn’t even close to what could still happen yet. Now, Clover. Where is she?”
☙ ☀ ❧
“Well, you’ve sealed us in, fine enough.” Clover looked around the court chamber while she stood next to the sisters, having just recovered her bearings after an unexpected teleporting into the court and a hasty explanation of their situation. “But how do we get out again?”
“I was thinking the roof,” Celestia said. “It shouldn’t be hard to cut open, when the time comes.”
“An extraction team is already on its way,” Luna clarified. “The blood moon we raised is our signal to them that we’ve succeeded. We’ll need to let them in once they arrive.”
“Commander Hurricane’s forces?” Clover asked.
“Yes.” Luna nodded. “The pegasi have been most gracious in their hospitality for us this past week. I think they’ll be glad for the chance to host even more guests, don’t you think?”
“No doubt they’ll be eager to receive the many esteemed and important ponies of this court,” Clover agreed. “Very well done, you two. Capturing the Princess and the entire royal court in one deft swoop. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but you continue to impress.”
“Oh, yes, congratulations are in order,” Platinum snapped sourly from the dais.
“Platinum, old friend, you lost this one fair and square,” Clover chuckled.
“Maybe I did,” Platinum sneered. “But it’s still hard to swallow.”
“I’m of the opinion that you did it to yourself,” Celestia stated.
Platinum was silent for a long moment. “You know what might actually bother me the most about this, when it’s all said and done?” she finally muttered, staring down at the rich carpet, vivid red like blood as it cascaded in an almost liquid flow down the short, wide dais steps. Star Fire hadn’t bled when she died, Celestia realized. The carpet substituted, spilling with crimson color to defy the false tidiness of a murder by precision neckbreak.
“What?” Clover asked.
“What will happen to Beryl?” Platinum asked, glancing briefly at Clover before returning her eyes to the floor. “He may be a dimwit of a bird, but he’s my special little dimwit. Underneath all his showiness, his heart is good, and whatever mistakes I’ve made, he’s innocent. He needs somepony. Who will look after the poor thing?”
Clover rolled her eyes. “Is this your way of asking me to?”
“Would you?” Platinum looked up with a glimmer of hope. “At least you’re not a total stranger to him, so I don’t suppose…”
“Fiiiine.” Clover let out a long-drawn sigh. “I knew there had to be a catch. It couldn’t just be this easy,” she mumbled. “Well, bring the featherbrain here. I suppose it’s only right that I have to take responsibility for the innocent soul I’ve helped to get caught in the middle of all this, isn’t it?”
“I’m of the opinion that you did it to yourself,” Platinum said quietly, with a brief vindictive smirk.
☙ ☀ ❧
Blazing white sparks rained down while Celestia sliced the ceiling open with a pale yellow beam of light from her horn. A square slab, still glowing red around the smoldering edges, fell to the stone floor with a far too gentle thump as Luna used her magic almost casually to ease the massive slab to a safe landing. Armored pegasi immediately swarmed in on their wings through the hole, appearing like ghosts through the billows of smoke. With an eerily well-practiced, almost supernatural speed, several of them threw small cylinders toward the gathered court unicorns. Before any unicorns could react, the cylinders burst in an irregular, rapid series of small flashes and sharp cracks.
Celestia instinctively shielded herself before they went off. Even through her considerable defenses, she felt a slight pinging pain and minor numbness in her horn. They were anti-magic suppression weapons, she realized, designed to inhibit unicorn spell-casting.
The pegasi wasted no time in taking advantage of the temporary magic-numbness. They forced the unicorns to the floor, horn-ringed them, and had them in shackles before most of them knew what was happening. Those wearing clothing were stripped and searched. Anything that could be used as a weapon, and in particular, Celestia noticed, anything with any kind of gem in it, was confiscated. It was a very sensible precaution; there was no telling what kind of hidden enchantments jewels might be infused with as a wearable ‘insurance policy’ against situations like this. These being some of the highest representatives of the unicorn noble houses, the pile of jewelry the pegasi stripped from them grew to an impressive size in short order, all their wealth of precious metals and stones being heaped up like so much hazardous debris needing careful disposal.
“No, you dingbats! Stop!” Clover’s voice broke through Celestia’s fascination with the proceedings. “I’m part of the inside team!”
She looked over to find Clover, having somehow avoided being magically disabled, with an exasperated look on her face and using her magic to evade the grasp of two pegasus soldiers. It looked like they were trying to wrestle a greased eel, such was the trouble they were having with the slippery shield spell Clover had cast to prevent them from horn-ringing her.
“She’s with us.” Celestia nodded, interjecting herself and gently pushing the two pegasi back with telekinetic magic. “Leave her alone. See to the other unicorns.”
“Every unicorn gets a horn-ring!” one of the pegasi insisted gruffly. “If you’re not cooperating, this is gonna happen the hard way. We don’t have time to screw around.” She scowled and pulled out another cylinder, readying it for deployment.
Alarmed, Celestia telekinetically clamped the cylinder to the pegasus’s hoof. The pegasus looked dumbfounded when she was unable to throw it, then startled when Celestia squeezed. “I said not her!” Celestia snapped. “She is on the inside team.”
“We’ll sift it out later,” a third pegasus wearing an officer’s insignia finally told them. “Get back to securing the rest.” They swiftly turned their attention as ordered to dealing with the other unicorns, leaving Clover with the two sisters.
In moments, the pegasi had finished and began carrying away the helpless unicorns, some of whom protested indignantly but ineffectually that they were being kidnapped and all of this was unbelievably illegal.
If it was, the pegasi seemed unconcerned with the law. One by one, they hefted up the restrained unicorns and flew them out through the hole in the ceiling. Cold air rushed in as they rushed out, dissipating the lingering traces of smoke with the fresh scent of winter frost, under a moon still shining in an ominous blood-red eclipse.
Celestia and Luna left second-to-last, just before the pegasus officer in charge of the raid. They carried Clover out with them as they went, with much more respectful treatment than the other unicorns were receiving. True to her word to Princess Platinum, Clover in turn carried Beryl, which seemed at first to Celestia like an absurdity – the peacock was a bird, with perfectly good wings of his own. But, she had to admit, there was the small issue of not knowing where exactly the daft bird would go if left to his own devices.
Flying away swiftly, they followed the pegasus soldiers. The entire operation had all happened so shockingly fast, less than five minutes from the first pegasus breaching the throne room to the last one exiting, that it felt unreal in a way that chilled Celestia just as much as the winter air. The lightning speed and precision of these elite pegasi was a stark reminder of what they had promised Commander Hurricane – a very short war indeed.
☙ ☀ ❧
The shackles chafed, a little, but at least that was something.
What was infinitely worse was the absent, numb nothing in Shining Shield’s forehead where his horn should have been. He was sure it was still there, since he’d tested by tapping it against the strange cloudstone substance that the walls of his cell were made of, but the strength of the horn-ring the pegasi had slipped onto him was such that it was completely deadened, and there was an element of horror in its absence from his senses that he hadn’t ever experienced personally.
He had caused it to be done to other ponies, yes, but of course they had deserved it. They had been prisoners. Troublemakers. Those sorts.
A pony of his stature being abducted and forced into this indignity, on the other hoof? He fumed. It was—
The door to the cell swung open, interrupting the thought and sending him scrambling to his hooves. A trio of pegasi stood in the opening. One of them stepped a pace or two into the cell.
At last! His heart beat wildly. Although stripped of magic, armor, horseshoes, even his sash of service medals, Shining Shield had decided he would at least go out fighting using the one weapon he had left. Adrenaline flowing, he lowered his head, aiming his horn—the horn he couldn’t feel, but knew he kept filed sharp—at the pegasus mare, and kicked off hard with all the explosive strength he could muster from his haunches, aiming for a goring stab at her neck with a mighty forward leap.
It was not the unavoidably fast blur of fluid motion he’d hoped for. Something, some enchantment, had been done to his shackles; the faster he tried to move, the more they resisted and felt like weights anchoring down his hooves. They turned his deadly strike into more of a comical, stumbling hobble.
The pegasus, on the other hoof, seemed to move impossibly fast in response as she dropped to a crouch and thrust out one foreleg to sweep Shining Shield’s front hooves. He could only watch helplessly as the ground suddenly twisted sideways and rushed up to meet his head.
Once he was on the ground, a flurry of feathers swept over his face, rushing by and gently scratching as she extended one wing to cover his eyes and block his view. He tried to bite, intending to pull out her feathers if he could, but couldn’t manage to get a grip on anything with his teeth. His ears told him that the other two ponies rushed the room, and their weight suddenly piled on top of him, bodily holding him to the floor. Against his struggles, he felt somepony restraining his legs and tightening his shackles even more.
Finally the veil of feathers lifted. He was hauled roughly to his hooves, where he stood unsteadily, sandwiched between the two pegasi pressing against him, one on either side, preventing him from moving more than an inch in any direction.
“They told us you might be given to pointless heroics. I guess they were right.” The pegasus mare standing before him looked him up and down. “Please don’t cause trouble, Sir Shield. We are not going to hurt you. We just need to move you.”
“Where?” he demanded.
“Commander Hurricane has arranged a meeting with all the Quartz City prisoners,” the pegasus said, in her strangely accented voice. “We’re taking you to her. Don’t struggle. We will need to carry you in flight, and we would not want to drop you. It is a very long way down.”
Shining Shield snorted and rolled his eyes, unimpressed at the veiled threat. Still, what was there to be done? They clearly had him where they wanted him.
“Fine.” He held his head high, trying to preserve a grip on some semblance of pride. “Take me, then.”
☙ ☀ ❧
The impressive beauty of the great cloud city was something that Shining Shield tried to push away and keep distant in his mind while he was being flown through it. That the savage pegasi could create things like this… though it was breathtaking, he wanted to remain convinced it was an affront, a mockery built in imitation of unicorn civilization, perhaps out of a jealous desire in the pegasi to emulate their betters.
They took him to one of the few structures he saw that had a roof and solid walls, unlike the generally open-air plans favoring arrangements of pillars over more solid partitioning. Escorting him through the doors, the pegasi kept a tight grip, maintaining their careful physical control over him even after they’d landed. He was herded into what looked like a large conference room. Many of the ponies abducted from the court with him were already there. Some greeted him with silent nods of acknowledgement. Others still looked too stunned or lost to manage anything, lost in apparent dumb denial of their situation.
The room was furnished with simple chairs, with their legs bolted together to form long, orderly rows. Smart, he had to admit. It prevented them from being picked up and swung as weapons. Giving Shining Shield more leeway once he was in the room, the pegasi backed off and allowed him to walk to a seat on his own.
The gathered unicorns, all hornringed and all shackled, waited in a tense, uneasy silence.
Glancing around, Shining Shield caught sight of Princess Platinum, sitting front and center. Only after a second take and a longer moment of study did it register that it was really her, so unfamiliar was she without her crown and purple robes. Seeing her horn-ringed and reduced to the common denominator, denied her regalia and made to sit unclothed and unornamented just like everypony else, brought on a wave of dismay heated with anger.
If they can force even the scion of the royal house to lower herself so far…
For the first time in a long time, he felt truly shaken.
Then a door near the front of the room opened. Several ponies, pegasi in armor, filed in. And then, after them… those two. Sisters, so they had declared themselves in the palace. One white as the pure sun, one deep blue like the night sky. With their horns and wings, they were as unmistakable now as they were in the Platinum Court; a force bringing a reckoning he would never forget.
For the first time in a long time, he felt fear.
What would they do? What could possibly be the follow-up act to how easily they’d taken the entire court?
But almost anticlimactically, as the ponies upfront arranged themselves before the gathered prisoners, the two sisters stood to the side, appearing deferential to the pegasi for the time being.
One of the pegasi stepped forward instead, wearing ornately chased armor and briefly surveying the captive audience with a sweep of her blue-green eyes. “All of you! Listen carefully and listen well!” she barked. “Welcome to Cloudopolis. I am Commander Hurricane, foremost general officer of the Cloud Empire’s armies. I assume many of you are confused about your situation, so I will spell it out for you in plain terms. You have been brought here to facilitate and ensure the cooperation of the Unicorn Kingdom with certain policy objectives. You’re going to be held in our custody until those objectives are met. Once we are satisfied with the outcomes and the degree of cooperation afforded, you’ll be returned to Quartz City. Any questions?”
“Are we prisoners of war, then?” Shining Shield piped up. “For that matter, is there a war on?”
“No,” Commander Hurricane answered curtly. “War has not been declared. There is still hope that it will not be necessary. Though under the circumstances I think you should be hoping to avoid it more than I.”
“Then this is an illegal abduction,” he stated.
“No, let me clarify on that point.” She glared back at him. “You’re not being abducted, you’re currently being detained pending investigation into whether or not you should be formally arrested and charged.”
“That’s outrageous! On what charge could you possibly back this pathetic excuse for claiming you ‘might arrest’ the entire royal court?”
Commander Hurricane gave him a hard stare. “Crimes against ponykind.” She looked around. “Any other questions?”
It seemed there weren’t any. A long moment of hushed silence settled on the room.
“Good,” Hurricane said, after a moment. “That leads us to an excellent point for further explanation by some ponies who are knowledgeable on those issues. Celestia. Luna.” She waved the two sisters forward.
They took their places and stood side by side before the assemblage of unicorns.
“I don’t doubt that most of you are very confused and even more apprehensive right now,” the white one, Celestia, began. “And rightly so. There is a great deal that has been kept from you. Allow us to remedy this by filling you in.”
And so she began to speak. She told a tale that Shining Shield could hardly believe, because he didn’t particularly want to believe it. She spoke of her beginnings in Thaumosciences—that much didn’t surprise him, he’d never felt the mages were wholly reliable—and of being put to work researching the decline and imminent failure of crop output, then being pulled into a wild conspiracy to undo the earth ponies by the very mage, Star Fire, that she’d slain before the eyes of everypony in court. Her tale pressed on to an even more secret plan; a wheels-within-wheels conspiracy orchestrated by Clover the Clever. The mane on the back of his neck bristled in a combination of rancor against the treason they’d committed against the Princess, and surprise that the Princess would have pressed the scheme that drove them to rebel in the first place. And why hadn’t he heard before now? Compartmentalization based on need-to-know made sense, granted. But still… it was troubling that he was so connected, so tied to the court, but still not in this loop.
Stealing a glance around the room, he could see the same mix of misgiving, uncertainty, and anger on the faces and in the tense postures of many other prisoners. It was as the sisters had said; some harsh revelations were being delivered this day.
Finally, they conjured a model of Quartz City fashioned from the cloud-stuff so abundant here in the pegasus stronghold. Celestia, like a great pure white marble statue, towered over it, eyes closed as her horn glowed and she willed forth an apparition of the sun, floating above the unicorn city. Rays of concentrated light beamed down from her mock-sun as she showed them the destruction of the thaumocontrollers and explained that they alone drove the sun and moon directly now.
Shining Shield’s stomach sank as he witnessed the recreated simulacrum of sudden, near-incomprehensible violent power. As a general, his first impulse was to think of a counter-strategy, but this almost made him want to laugh out loud at himself. It was a ridiculous notion, thinking that there would even be a strategy.
What was there to be done against this overpowering first-strike capability they’d developed? How was this enemy to be fought? How does a fly fight a sledgehammer?
“Now, you, the leadership of Quartz City and the Unicorn Kingdom, sit here, thaumocontrollers destroyed and prisoners of the pegasi,” Celestia pronounced. “Now the pieces are placed. Now, it is time.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Time.” She paced. “Time is really the question, isn’t it? The time of the Unicorn Kingdom. The time of the earth pony. How much time any of us have left. How much time might be gained… or taken away.”
Celestia looked around the room.
“You tried to take away the time of other ponies. We are in a time in which the unicorn has come to see herself as the highest peak of ponykind, in a place of special privilege, instead of one among three equal sisters. Now, make no mistake, this is not unaccountable arrogance born of nothing. This is symptomatic; there is a deeper problem. It is the sign of a time in which we have fallen into an imbalance – one that must be corrected, or it will destroy us.”
“But it’s not time for me, somepony who lived as a unicorn, to tell you about who you’ve hurt,” Celestia continued after a thoughtful pause. “Rather, it’s time for the voice of the earth pony to be heard. And after all these decades of being deaf to our earth sisters, hear her you will, at long, long last. She has been waiting, beyond patiently. So…”
Celestia nodded to Luna, who opened the meeting room door and said something softly to a pony waiting in the hall. After a moment, she stepped aside, making way for an earth pony mare who walked timidly into the room. Luna silently encouraged her onward, until she joined Celestia standing before the assemblage of unicorns.
Shining Shield studied her. Her mane was the color of honey, her coat tan. Freckles played across her young, pretty face, contrasting endearingly somehow against her legs with their ropey muscles and faint scars showing the marks of farm labor.
She looked at Celestia for a brief moment, uncertainty showing clearly in her powder-blue eyes.
“Go on.” Celestia gently spoke to her with a reassuring smile and faint nod.
At that, the earth pony returned the nod, then turned to the unicorns, taking a deep breath and lifting her head as she gathered her confidence.
“Hello, ma’ams and sirs. My name is Winter Wheat,” she started. “Miss Celestia asked me to come here to Cloudopolis so I could tell you in my own words what it’s like to be an earth pony. I didn’t know if I could at first, because I didn’t know what I would say, or how to stand in front of other ponies and speak. I’ve never done it before. But, I, uh…”
She fidgeted.
“I decided I would, though, because I realized something important about how something that happened to me not long ago made me feel, and I knew this would be my only chance to say something about it, and maybe be really listened to. So here it is.”
She cleared her throat. “Not long ago, one of your mages, Star Fire was her name, came to my home. She brought Quartz City guards with her. They showed up by surprise, in the middle of breakfast. Star Fire told me they were looking for magic, or something like that, and she was coming into my house to search. She didn’t have a warrant, but the guards made it clear that ‘no’ wasn’t an answer.”
“I always knew—” Winter Wheat swallowed anxiously “—I knew the guard unicorns showing up meant somepony was in trouble. But I hoped they would always just stay away from me, if I was… you know, if I was a ‘good’ earth pony. If they didn’t have a reason to come for me, because I didn’t do anything wrong, it would be okay. But it wasn’t okay. They came anyway, and they threatened me. When you’re an earth pony, you hear the stories about what those threats mean, and because of those stories, when those guards just showed up, I was more frightened than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“No,” she muttered. “More than frightened. I was panicked. The kind of panic that’s so bad you just freeze up and don’t know what to do, because there’s nothing you can do. It’s like a nightmare you’ve always had, one that always hangs over you, and you try to push it away to the back of your head and never think about it but now it’s finally come to life. It made me feel so helpless. They were there, and I couldn’t do anything about it. That’s how your whole life is, as an earth pony. The unicorns could always show up. They’re always a force that could come around to take something from you. It doesn’t have to be fair. It doesn’t have to be right. You don’t know where. You don’t know when. It just happens.
“But even more than not knowing when they might come to take everything unexpectedly, what really grinds me down some days is just knowing what they take bit by bit as a routine. That’s even worse for a lot of ponies. It’s relentless. It never ends. Unicorns already own what matters to earth ponies most of all: they own the land. To farm the land, you pay the owner. That’s what unicorns take, what they take from every single earth pony, even the ones the guards never come for: we grow, they take. They take for taxes. They take for tenancy. They take and say it’s to pay for the armies, the roads, the weather. They take and call it the price for the sun and the moon, like those should have a price, instead of being for everypony.”
Winter Wheat looked around silently, slowly, sweeping her gaze across the faces of every unicorn in the room. “I’m a slave,” she finally stated, raising her voice a little louder than she’d been able to before. “Nopony ever wants to say it, but that’s the truth. Every earth pony in the Unicorn Kingdom is. I know I’m a slave because all my life, I’ve never felt anything but helpless. I just never completely realized it until the day Star Fire showed up. That was the day I really woke up to what she could have taken from me right then and there, and it was also the day I learned about what the Unicorn Kingdom planned to take; to rob me – to rob every earth pony – of having foals. To take and take until they’d even taken our future. Miss Celestia told me what you were planning, and that was the day it hit me right on the forehead so hard I had to finally notice: I’m a slave.
“I know you’re all unicorns, so maybe you won’t understand. Maybe you won’t care at all. But I still need to say it. I’m talking to you about how this made me feel because I don’t want my children, if I have foals someday, to have to live in the world that does the same thing to them, and makes them feel the same way I do. I just want something better. I want a better world than one where anypony is a slave. That’s what I really want to say to all of you. That’s what you’ve done to me. It’s not fair. I just want things to be fair.”
Winter Wheat took one last look across the crowd, and turned to leave. Celestia walked with her. “Thank you, Winter Wheat,” she said when they reached the door. “That was very brave of you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for making them hear me.” Winter Wheat nodded gratefully, wiping away silently gathering tears in her eyes. She and Celestia hugged, then the earth pony left the room, escorted by one of the pegasi.
Celestia turned back to the unicorn prisoners, reproach burning bright in her eyes.
“Do you understand now?” she asked. “Do you see what you’ve done? Our world responds to the magic we bring to it. When all three of our tribes used our magic to provide for each other, to lift each other up, the world provided for us. When we had warmth and caring in our hearts, the world was warm and cared for us.”
“But now, because the unicorn has used her magic to take, the world itself takes. As we grew cold, so the world is growing cold. How long can any of us last in a winter like that? How were we such fools, such arrogant fools, to think we could survive without that balance?”
She paused, her face taking on a look of immense sadness.
“When we've filled our hearts with ice, is it any wonder that we're freezing to death?”
Puddinghead looked around at the ponies variously standing or sitting throughout her office. Her gaze crossed Clover, Celestia and Luna, Commander Hurricane, Private Pansy, a pair of additional pegasus military attachés, a trio of representatives from the unicorn noble houses, and several earth pony local burghers.
The room, spacious as it was, felt crowded. The crowding, in turn, made it feel too warm, even with the winter’s chill outside. It struck a sharp contrast in Celestia’s mind to her memory of the last time she’d been in here, when it was too cold.
“I dunno, this all sounds pretty wild. You just expect me to roll with this craaaaaazzzy plan?” Puddinghead spun her hooves in circles around the sides of her head. “I mean, marching us earth ponies away to create a whole new country somewhere else? Really?”
“It’s the plan we have, and we’d like your help, but frankly it's happening with or without your support,” Cardinal Clover said pointedly. “I think by now you know the situation the Unicorn Kingdom is in, and I think we—” she indicated herself, Celestia, Luna, and Hurricane “—have explained our position quite well. And most of all, I think you know you don’t want to miss being aboard this ship when it sails.”
“I would like it noted for the record that the Quartz City Interim Emergency Council of Nobles has agreed to this ‘plan’ only under duress,” one of the unicorn representatives stated.
“Yeah-yeah, sure-sure.” Puddinghead waved dismissively. “I don’t think we’re actually keeping a record, but just to be clear, you have agreed to it.”
“I–” The representative stopped silent when Clover, Celestia, and Luna all gave her a look. “…Yes, we have,” she finally finished, fidgeting uncomfortably.
Puddinghead snorted. “Well, then that’s that.” She shrugged. “If you all agree on what you’re doing, then I guess that’s how it is. The only question I have is, who’s gonna run this clown show?”
“Excuse me?” Hurricane looked at Puddinghead quizzically.
“Guh!” Puddhinghead threw up her forelegs in an over-the-top display of incredulity. “I said, who’s in charge?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Hurricane said. “The pegasi are responsible for military support, but seeing how it would be primarily a migration of earth ponies, we assumed you would take an interest in the civil leadership side of things.”
“Whoa ho ho ho!” Puddinghead laughed, rolling in her chair. “Yeah, no. You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Are you arguing against yourself leading your own ponies?” Hurricane turned to Clover in bewilderment. “Okay, I thought we were trying to get her onboard so she’d help. What just happened?”
“Look, I’ll let ya in on a little secret,” Puddinghead said in an exaggerated faux-whisper, leaning forward across her desk toward the other ponies. “I’m kiiiiind of just a figurehead for the unicorns.”
“Y’don’t say,” Smart Cookie muttered almost inaudibly from her tiny desk in the back of the room.
“Well, gotta give you credit for at least knowing the score,” Hurricane said. “But still, we need somepony at the reins. You’ve faked it convincingly enough this long, and your earth ponies listen to you, so maybe it’s time you give it a try for real.”
“I don’t know.” Puddinghead shook her head doubtfully. “I’m just a status-quo keeper. This all sounds kinda big to handle, even with my trusty crisis kit. Shouldn’t one of you guys be taking this?”
“Come on, we can’t try to install a pegasus or a unicorn into the civil leadership!” Hurricane gritted her teeth in frustration. “How would that look? ‘Oh, hey, earth ponies, good news! You’re gonna be ruled by other pony types again!’ Yeah, that totally won’t come across as a massive betrayal.”
A pall of silence fell, followed by rising murmurs of doubt rising up and filtering through the room. The sense of uncertainty loomed ever larger as seconds passed.
Puddinghead suddenly leaned over her desk and pointed to Luna and Celestia. “Hey, what about them?”
All the talk ceased again. A beat passed. Nopony moved.
Celestia tilted her head. “What about us?”
“You two jokers took things this far already, destroying the Unicorn Kingdom’s thaumocontrollers and whatnot,” Puddinghead pointed out. “We’re only here having this discussion because of you. Seems pretty fair to me to make you finish what you started. Also, from what’s been explained to me, I understand this alicorn thing means you’re also earth ponies, right?”
“She’s got you there,” Hurricane said, nodding slowly after a moment’s thought.
“Hmmmm.” Clover turned her head to look at Luna and Celestia. “I have to admit, you may be the closest thing there is to a good choice.”
“Good choice, are we?” Luna asked. “Maybe, other than having no experience and no idea what we’re doing.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Clover insisted, a little forcefully.
“We’ll figure it out, or you’ll figure it out for us?” Celestia wondered sourly, under her breath.
“That’s not…” Clover rubbed the bridge of her muzzle in exasperation. “You know. Look. All princesses have their advisors, don’t they? Yes, I can advise you, if you want to appoint me to that sort of role to help figure things out for you. But the decision-making authority, in the final sense, really needs somepony clearly defined to rest in, and it needs to be in the right somepony. I think you’re the ones who fit the need that exists right now.”
“Princesses?” Celestia was taken aback. “After we did all this to get the earth ponies out from under the hoof of a princess, is that what you’d make my sister and I? More princesses?”
“Well, why not?” Clover looked around the room, challenging anypony to disagree. “You’re not like Platinum, and recent history notwithstanding, ‘princess’ is a perfectly fine title. It carries the legitimacy of long previous use. It would also at least nominally establish the permanence of an ongoing royal house. There’s a sense of stability to it which is surely going to be an asset.”
“But they’re not of noble blood! How can—” one of the unicorn emissaries started protesting, only to be silenced by a discreet kick in the leg by one of her fellow unicorns, causing her to emit a muffled “Oof!”
“She's got a point, now that you mention it,” Clover agreed. “No familial ties to the ‘noble-blooded’ unicorn aristocracy means nopony can claim they have conflicts of interest in that regard. See? Perfect!”
“Uhhh…” One of the earth ponies spoke up. “But two of them?”
“The sun and moon must work in concert as coequals,” Clover pointed out. “And anyway, who says there can only be one Princess? I don’t see that in any rulebook, and in uncertain times, having a measure of redundancy is good insurance. The Unicorn Kingdom might not be down to zero princesses available to take charge there right now if they had a spare.”
The last part earned Clover a silent but angry glare from one of the unicorn emissaries. Clover, looking pleased with herself, didn’t seem to care.
“I know what happens when Clover gets like this,” Luna lamented to Celestia. “It’s another one of those things we’re not going to get out of, isn’t it?”
“I think so.” Celestia nodded reluctantly. “But, as usual, she’s right about it being the only real choice, like it or not. I’m afraid it’s princess crowns for us, Luna.”
“Greaaaaaat,” Luna groaned, burying her face in her hooves.
“…We’re in it together,” Luna finished, with a resigned sigh. “Just like always.”
☙ ☀ ❧
Rain fell on Celestia’s face. Rain! At this time of year! She’d only ever seen it snow, up in the north. There would still be a thick blanket of it covering the land outside Quartz City right now. In these new southern lands, what little had fallen was already gone. As they traveled, the fields had become green and verdant instead of stark white and icy. The weather wasn’t exactly warm, of course—barely above freezing—but compared to what she’d known before, it seemed like a paradise.
She relished the feeling of the droplets gathering on her eyelashes and running down her muzzle while she walked through the soft grass underhoof. A subtle tingling feeling, almost electric, coursed up her legs. It was her earth pony magic responding to the vitality of the plant life of this new land in the shadow of the mountain from her vision, and it filled her with joy. This land was rich and unspoiled, every bit as perfect as the visions promised.
When she reached the tent to which she'd been summoned, it was so enjoyable to just walk the fields, drink in the rain, and feel the essence of this beautiful new place, she almost didn’t want to go in. But there was work to do, no doubt. Always so much work to do.
Who thought building and settling a new country would be so demanding? She smiled helplessly to herself, then sighed and shook out her mane and her wings as she stepped inside.
The pegasi had provided this spacious command tent, fit for one of their own generals. It served well enough as a temporary center for directing settlement efforts, but she would be glad when more permanent structures would finally be finished. They’d all been living out of tents or the backs of wagons for weeks on the long southward journey, and it was getting old.
Clover was inside, standing at the central table strewn with books, letters, scrolls, and notes written on scraps. She looked up. “Celestia, good. You’re here.”
Something else moved around in the tent beside her. Celestia looked down to see the light from the glow-crystal hanging above the table reflecting in an iridescent shine off of the intensely blue and green plumage of a peacock.
“Hello, Clover,” Celestia said. “I see you’ve brought Beryl with you to this meeting. Is there something we need to consult his expertise on?”
“She said we’d see why he’s here in good enough time,” Luna said from a corner of the tent, where she was sitting on a sturdy wooden chest, waiting.
“Yes, I did, and you will,” Clover replied. “Please, could you close the entryway and privacy-seal it for us?”
“Alright.” Celestia magically pulled the weather-flap shut and cast a quick spell to keep it from being opened from outside.
“I’ve already sound-proofed the tent,” Clover said, just as Celestia was about to ask. “That should be secure enough for what needs to be done here, I think.”
“Why?” Celestia looked at Luna with a little bit of concern. “What are we doing here?”
“She won’t tell me yet, either,” Luna said with mild irritation.
Clover paced around the table. “It’s something necessary, and you two need to know, but I think you won’t like it,” she warned them.
Celestia frowned. That certainly killed some of the joy she’d had from being outside in the rain and the grass. A shadow of anxiety grew in the hole it left behind. “What have you done this time?” she asked.
“You have to understand, an arrangement was made,” Clover said. “And it must be kept. That was her price.”
“Whose?” Luna stood up in alarm. “Price for what?”
“Platinum.” Clover stopped her pacing and looked up. “I have to teleport Princess Platinum here. I’m springing her from detention in Cloudopolis.”
“You can’t do that!” Celestia nearly screamed. The world briefly swam in red anger. “That’s our leverage! And the pegasi would—”
“She’s not our only leverage,” Clover cut her off, in a more level voice. “You two and your ability to flatten Quartz City building by building if it comes to that was always our real advantage. We also have far less need for leverage now that we’re here, well outside the Unicorn Kingdom’s effective reach. And anyway, Commander Hurricane knows about this. Just her, though. None of the other pegasi. None of the unicorns. No one. Nopony else must know about this, ever. Do you understand? Ponies have to think she escaped somehow.”
“Then why even tell us?” Luna glared suspiciously.
“Because I can’t keep secrets from you two,” Clover answered her. “Not when you’re going to be the new princesses of this land. You have the right to know, and you have to be able to trust me if I’m going to be any good to you. I can’t risk setting up a situation that could undermine it. So complete transparency is the way it has to be.”
Celestia scowled and considered the situation. On the one hoof, she thought, at least Clover was being honest about her scheming. And so far, all of her schemes, admittedly, had worked, and they’d all proven important to getting where they were. Given the track record, it seemed perhaps foolish to quell this one. Yet, on the other hoof…
“And if we say no?” she asked.
Clover sighed. “You could do that, of course,” she conceded. “But it would accomplish nothing other than to throw away Platinum’s good will. As I said, this deal was made with Hurricane’s knowledge. If I don’t do what was arranged, then Hurricane will just do it instead, and Platinum will know that my end of the deal wasn’t upheld. I think she’ll be able to guess why. It might not make her very inclined to help us in the future, should we ever find ourselves needing it.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it.” Celestia weighed all this for a long moment. “But fine,” she finally acceded. “You may be right, Platinum could be useful someday, and I’m sure she’s not exactly having a picnic, sitting there in prison. So… do it, if you must.”
“I must.” Clover nodded her head. “And Beryl’s here because he’s going to help, aren’t you, you beautiful birdbrain?”
Beryl paused his quiet strutting around the tent and looked at Clover, sensing he was being spoken to. He cocked his head, perhaps expecting to be fed some tasty seeds.
Instead, Clover’s horn glowed and she gripped him gently but firmly in her telekinetic field. Beryl squirmed and let out a plaintive squawk, while Clover scrunched her muzzle in concentration. “Now which one is it?” she muttered to herself softly. “I hate having to try to do this through living tissue, it feels so squishy and… Ah! Yes, there! That one!”
Without warning, a teleportation spell triggered, bursting with a blinding flash. Celestia blinked. When her vision returned a half-second later, Clover was holding something – a ruby the size of a large olive, shining with the most intense, vivid red color that Celestia had ever seen.
Beryl, now released from Clover’s grip, looked unharmed but somewhere between puzzled and resentful at the bizarre ordeal he’d just been through. He fluffed his feathers and shook himself, then started trying to soothe his indignity with a good preening. Celestia found herself sympathizing. Having wings was teaching her to appreciate the calming repetition and satisfying feeling of smoothing and maintaining her plumage.
“This ruby is a beaconstone, tuned to Platinum,” Clover said, staring into the gem. “We left it in Beryl’s good custody just in case a day ever came when she would need to make a covert escape over a very long distance.”
“But that was – you had him swallow it as a gizzard-stone, then smuggled it out of Quartz City inside him!” Luna exclaimed. “That’s why she asked you to take care of him!”
“Clever,” Celestia said, grudgingly.
“That’s what they call me.” Clover nodded. She picked up a scrap of paper with a complex sigil drawn on it from the table and studied it intently, then grabbed a pen filled with a strange luminous silver ink and started copying from the paper onto the ground in the tent. After a few moments, she stepped back and examined her handiwork critically. “Just needs the summoning salt,” she mumbled, picking up a vial filled with white granules and sprinkling them throughout the design. “I hope that’s enough, at this kind of distance… well, we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Clover set the ruby beaconstone down gently in the center of the sigil. It started glowing, softly at first, then growing in intensity. The sigil emitted a low buzzing hum, and the silvery lines seemed to shake and blur ever so slightly. All the salt sprinkled in it seemed to turn from solid granules to hazy, translucent magic fog, rising and swirling in a glowing vortex. The hum rose in pitch and grew towards a crescendo, and finally a flash of light burst from the sigil.
Princess Platinum, appearing from nowhere, suddenly stood inside it.
She blinked and looked around the tent.
“Well, this isn’t prison.” she said, looking surprised but her voice understated. “So I suppose it worked.”
“Yes, and I believe you’ve just set a new non-mechanized teleportation distance record,” Clover replied. “Shame nopony can ever know.”
“Nopony except for them, you mean?” Platinum glared at Luna and Celestia.
“They’re part of this,” Clover said. “They have the right.”
“If you think that’s wise.”
“You know wisdom was never my strong suite.”
Platinum rolled her eyes. “Neither is giving yourself enough credit, for better or worse.”
“You weren’t so bad, either,” Clover countered.
Platinum shook her head. “I don’t suppose it matters anymore whether I was wise or not. What’s done is done, no going back. My time as Princess is over. I am… somepony else, now.”
“Speaking of which, I have your ‘new identity’ prepared, as we planned.” Clover picked up a vial from the table. It held a purple liquid, cloudy and swirling as it moved.
“Thank you.” Platinum took the vial, uncorked it, and drank the contents in one swift gulp.
Over the course of a few seconds, her coat changed color from snowy white to the same purple as the vial’s liquid had been. Her mane changed as well, from silvery to a paler purple.
Platinum looked down at her new coloration. “I just realized, I neglected to think of a new name,” she mumbled. “Always some detail you miss, isn’t there?”
“So you’re running away from the Unicorn Kingdom, then?” Celestia asked.
“I’d hoped I might be able to stay here,” Platinum said. “There must be some unicorns dissatisfied with the Kingdom who followed you to this new land. Perhaps I can start over again among them, even if only as a commoner.”
“This is to be a land where all equines are equal and welcome, and as such there are some unicorns who decided to come with us, but they came because they were unhappy living in the oppressive atmosphere of Quartz City. Why should we have you, when you were one of their oppressors?” Luna wondered.
“Because it would be the least we can do.” Clover looked at Luna in surprise. “She helped make all of this possible. That’s what I meant when I said this was her price: her escape to new life, for her help in freeing the earth ponies.”
“She… she helped?” Celestia was confused, then narrowed her eyes. “You could have fooled me. Why did we never know?”
“Because Cardinal Clover convinced me long ago that something needed to be done to avert the disaster the Unicorn Kingdom was on course toward, but the situation was… complicated,” Platinum answered. “I didn’t know if she would actually succeed until now. I couldn’t risk revealing anything until I was sure, nor could I risk acting openly from within the court. The most I could do was give her free rein under my patronage.”
“You had to pretend? You were an insider this whole time? You were the Princess! You couldn’t do anything, or you wouldn’t?”
“The nobility of the Unicorn Kingdom is so entrenched that we needed a crisis from outside to break their inertia, and I couldn’t be on the throne when their hoof was finally forced,” Platinum explained. “As princess, I would have had to be the one to order the Unicorn Kingdom to give you the concessions you were demanding. Hardline elements of the noble houses would have responded by having me deposed or killed and replaced with a monarch more to their liking. Politics as usual. They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again.”
“But with an emergency council in place, the blame is more diffuse, making them more willing to respond to demands with less fear of reprisal,” Clover added. “It was also sheer luck that you thought to capture so many of them to use as hostages for compliance, since that increased the pressure greatly. Not to mention, taking Platinum was lucky. Otherwise, I’d have had to stage her disappearance somehow at the critical moment. But it seems it’s true what they say, great minds really do think alike. Even inadvertently.”
“You know, it’s easy to want to be angry at all this deception, but I admit it’s hard to blame you for not wanting to die,” Celestia conceded, pacing the room.
“I’d like to think it was more about a ruler needing to know when to step down for the good of her people,” Platinum responded. “But, well… yes, not wanting to die, I will admit, is no insignificant thing to consider. This is not a totally selfless decision. I saw a way out and I took it. I won’t insult you by pretending I was being entirely noble about it.”
“We’ll need some time to think about this and decide whether you will stay here or not,” Luna interjected, glowering at Platinum.
“I agree.” Celestia nodded. “There are many issues we have to deal with right now. You may stay until we get down the priority list to your case, but I think my sister is right, we can't say yes or no just yet.”
“I suppose I can’t ask for anything more,” Platinum said.
“You’re asking for plenty as it is,” Luna said with displeasure.
“Thank you for at least considering it, all the same. I’ll leave you alone now.” Platinum bowed, then turned to look for the exit to the tent.
“Wait,” Celestia called to her.
Platinum stopped and looked back over her withers at Celestia. “What is it?”
“You still need to choose a new name,” Celestia reminded her. “I suggest you do it by the time we call you back to make our decision. Think about it carefully, my little pony. Who do you want to be in this new world we’re creating?”
Trumpeting fanfare resounded through the stone halls of the new Castle of the Sisters, even echoing out into the scenic woods surrounding it. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass panels, setting the great courtroom alight in rainbow hues cast over the multitudinous crowd of ponies gathered there. Celestia and Luna sat on the dual thrones atop the dais, side by side, and in front of them, Commander Hurricane stood facing the crowd at a small, unassuming wooden table whose simplicity contrasted sharply with the stunning pair of tiaras resting on it: one in pure gold set with gleaming purple gems, the other in a jet-black metal with white gems shining like stars.
“Greetings and thanks to all of you who have gathered here to witness this historic event,” Hurricane addressed the crowd. “As the commander of the Cloud Empire’s expeditionary force, it has been my honor to lead my pegasi in safeguarding the settlement efforts of our earth pony friends. In doing so, I have in some ways taken on a role as part of the de facto governance of the region. However, to gain power here was not my intention, nor was this arrangement ever meant to be permanent. With the completion of this castle we now stand in to serve as a permanent seat of power, it’s only right that we enter a new phase in the leadership of this new land. It gives me great pleasure to preside over the relinquishing of military directorship and the establishment of a permanent civilian government. Therefore: by right of strength, by right of conquest, by right of discovery, and most importantly by right deriving from the consent of you, the governed, I present to you the new diarchs of your land: Princesses Celestia and Luna.”
The crowd applauded and cheered, stomping their hooves on the stone floor of the court hall. Rumbling filled the air so loud it shook deep into the chests of everypony there.
Hurricane took the tiaras from the little table and ascended the dais, approaching the thrones. The applause died down, replaced with the reverent silence of everypony suddenly holding their breath in anticipation.
Celestia and Luna both lowered their heads.
“On behalf of your people, I coronate you: Princess Celestia of Equestria,” Hurricane declared, placing the gold tiara upon Celestia. “And on behalf of your people, I coronate you: Princess Luna of Equestria.” She placed the black tiara atop Luna’s head.
The princesses simultaneously raised their heads and stood from their thrones, crowns glittering in the light. Hurricane kneeled and bowed. The audience followed suit, bowing down before their new rulers.
The sisters stepped forward.
“Rise, our subjects,” they declared, their two voices in a carefully practiced unison. “Rise and celebrate the dawning of a new day as we create a better world for all of ponykind!”
Celestia and Luna smiled, raising their wings and holding their heads high to present themselves to the crowd with dignified poise while deafening cheers and applause shook the very stones of the castle.
☙ ☀ ❧
After their coronation, the sisters left their thrones and descended the dais to join the crowd in celebration. The ponies around them felt excessively polite at first, keeping their distance and looking nervous about being in the presence of the rulers of the land. Eventually, they were able to begin breaking down the barriers and rubbing shoulders more casually with their subjects when Chancellor Puddinghead hit upon the idea of having them personally hoof out cups of cider. If nothing else, she certainly knew a thing or two about breaking the ice at a party, Celestia had to admit.
After a short while, with the crowd finally warming up and growing more at-ease, a unicorn approached them. “Congratulations, your highnesses!”
“Thank you.” Celestia turned to face her well-wisher and smiled. The face was familiar, and Celestia tried to place the pony in her mind. She’d seen her before, some sort of diplomatic function. After a few moments, finally it came back to her. “…Topaz Bolt, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Correct.” She bowed.
“And you came here as a delegate from the Unicorn Kingdom to witness our coronation?”
“Yes, I did.” She nodded. “It was a beautiful ceremony. Everything seems to be going well for you.”
“So far, yes, quite well, thank you,” Luna said. “Miss Bolt, please forgive me, but I’ve just realized I’m not entirely clear on one thing: who exactly in the Unicorn Kingdom is it that you represent? News about the process of succession to the throne in Quartz City has been rather sporadic in reaching us here.”
“News is scarce because the official proclamations haven’t been made yet,” Topaz said. “But to clarify, I’m here representing House Umbra. Between you and me, their candidate is as good as enthroned and is expected to ascend shortly. I think I can safely tell you because I have been asked to deliver this letter to you.”
Topaz’s horn glowed and she magiced out an envelope from her dress. Celestia briefly examined the ornate wax seal it bore while she took the letter.
“Of course, I don’t expect you to open it right now, in the midst of your celebrations,” Topaz said. “But the gist, I’ve been told, is that it’s a letter of intent from House Umbra requesting to begin diplomatic relations with Equestria.”
“I see.” Celestia nodded. “Are there any specific diplomatic concerns prompting this?”
“I believe the concern is for fostering goodwill with the unicorns residing in this new land of Equestria,” Topaz replied. “They did, after all, mostly originate from the Unicorn Kingdom. The Kingdom doesn’t want to abandon its citizens, nor fail to do what it can to assure their good treatment in their new home.”
“We appreciate that you care, and I assure you, Equestria is a land equitable to all,” Celestia said. “In fact, it was created with that singular thought foremost in mind. We invite you to check and see that the unicorns we have welcomed here are satisfied in that regard. You can ask them yourself, if you like: some of them have already begun constructing a town on what we’ve come to call Canterlot Mountain. You can’t miss it, it’s the towering peak that overlooks the fair forest this very castle lies within.”
“Perhaps I will.” Topaz nodded. “Congratulations again. I shouldn’t monopolize your time, however. I’ll let your other guests mingle with you.” She bowed again and turned to leave the princesses.
“Oh, and Miss Bolt,” Luna called after her, “If you go to speak to the unicorns of Canterlot, please, do not neglect to also inquire about the concerns of the pegasi and earth ponies some of them have mated with and taken as partners. I understand the first waves of foals with mixed parent types are expected soon. New families, starting here in Equestria! Exciting, isn’t it?”
With her back still turned, Topaz bristled slightly, briefly, but composed herself and continued to walk away without breaking her stride. Celestia suppressed a silent giggle, while Luna just smiled and watched Topaz disappear into the celebrating crowd of mostly earth ponies.
☙ ☀ ❧
“It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?” Clover asked Hurricane as the two of them entered the castle’s council chamber after the coronation celebrations had ended and the castle was quiet once again. “And it looks like it’s not over ye—”
She stopped and her words died. Celestia and Luna sat silently at the head of the long table, waiting, staring somberly in the semi-darkness. Two other ponies sat to the side near them. One was the now-purple former-princess Platinum. The other was a dark grey pony, nearly black, with wings and a horn.
“Hello, Cardinal Clover. Commander Hurricane.” Luna greeted the new arrivals. A coldness in her voice took Clover by surprise.
“Hello, Princess Luna, Princess Celestia.” Clover bowed to the newly minted princesses, still wearing their coronation tiaras. She looked at the grey pony. “One of your guests I already know. May I have the pleasure of being introduced to the other one?”
“Oh, I’m confident you’ve already met Storm Grey.” Celestia stood up and motioned toward the pony. “Haven’t you?”
“You… invited her to your coronation?” Clover asked hesitantly.
“How could we not?” Luna replied. “My sister and I are what we are because of her. We all owe her much.”
“I don’t put it that way myself.” Storm Grey shifted, looking vaguely annoyed.
“At any rate, you’ve summoned myself and the Commander to a council,” Clover said, brushing past any further awkward formalities. “Your first as princesses, I believe. I presume there must be some very important business you wish to kick off your reign with, so perhaps we should get started?”
“Indeed!” Celestia exclaimed. She clapped one front hoof on the table, in apparent enthusiasm. “What business could be more important than finally bringing the truth to light? So yes, let’s get started on that.”
“To wit,” Luna continued, fluidly picking up and continuing her sister’s thread, “we’ve made our decision regarding the former Princess Platinum. First things first: have you decided on a new name yet?”
“I have,” Platinum answered. “While waiting for your decision, I’ve been going by True Heart. I think that will work just fine for me.”
“Very well.” Celestia nodded. “Then that is what you shall be known by henceforth. And we’ve decided to offer you a deal, True Heart. You may stay here in Equestria, in exchange for the use of your unique talent.”
“I’ll gladly agree to that,” True Heart replied. “I—”
“You might not be so glad when we state the condition that comes with this offer,” Luna interrupted. “We will need you to accept a geas binding you to tell us truthfully when we ask if somepony is lying.”
“A… a geas?” True Heart suddenly looked weak in the legs. “You know that kind of magic? Such a dark spell?”
“I don’t believe there’s such a thing as ‘dark’ magic, only magic used darkly. We’ve recently been taught this particular spell, thanks to our guest.” Celestia looked at Storm Grey. “She knows many fascinating things. But the question at hoof is, will you accept our offer?”
“I… I just… well…” True Heart stammered.
“The spell is quite harmless,” Luna said. “It won’t hurt you, only constrain you to the terms set when it is being cast. We wouldn’t use it for cruel purposes, of course.”
“Fine.” True Heart stiffened and held her head up. “Doesn’t seem I have a lot of choice. I’ll do it, if that’s the price.”
Celestia and Luna looked at each other briefly. “I’ll do the honors,” Celestia said, and Luna nodded.
Celestia turned toward True Heart. Her horn started glowing, filling the council room with hazy white-gold light. Tendrils of purple and green magic wove through the air, surrounding True Heart while she watched nervously.
“True Heart, repeat after me!” Celestia commanded, her voice suddenly growing distant and echoing. The irises of her eyes started glowing faintly. “I will serve Equestria by the use of my special talent when called upon.”
“I will serve Equestria by the use of my special talent when called upon,” True Heart repeated nervously.
“I will answer honestly and fully when asked if another pony is being truthful,” Celestia continued.
“I will answer honestly and fully when asked if another pony is being truthful,” True Heart repeated again.
“I will inform the princesses of Equestria of any lies I detect, whether bidden to or not, if harm would result from those lies not being reported.”
“I will inform the princesses of Equestria of any lies I detect, whether bidden to or not, if harm would result from those lies not being reported,” True Heart echoed back.
“So be it!” Celestia proclaimed. “Having been voluntarily accepted and recited, my sister and I impose this geas until such time as we declare it should be undone.”
The swirling purple and green magic closed in around True Heart, tentacles of glowing gossamer wrapping themselves around her tightly. They sank down into her coat, seeming to melt away through her skin. She shuddered and shrank away as if being wrapped in a cold, wet blanket she didn’t want touching her, until the tendrils vanished and the glow of Celestia’s horn faded.
“Now, with that out of the way, we will continue,” she declared. “True Heart, your first act of service will be to assist by informing us of any falsehoods told here.”
“This is why you called us here, first thing as princesses? Interrogation with a lie detector? Gonna be honest, I feel a little tricked here,” Hurricane grumbled reproachfully.
“You feel tricked?” Celestia asked incredulously. Brief anger flashed in her eyes. “You feel tricked?!”
“Are you accusing us of something?” Clover interposed, calmly stepping forward.
“Accusing? No.” Luna shook her head. “We would simply like the truth – the whole truth – laid out. It’s understandable that certain things had to remain secret, until now. But my sister and I feel that, at this point, we’re both entitled to the full story. And there is quite a story to tell, isn’t there?”
“Such as how I already know Storm Grey?” Clover guessed.
“Yes, such as exactly that.” Celestia nodded. “Although perhaps we should start with what my sister and I already know. What you two really are, for instance.” She pointed at Clover and Hurricane.
“And what are we, really?” Clover asked.
“Just as Storm Grey is two pony types, a pegasus and a unicorn – a pegacorn – so are you. You, Cardinal, are an earth-unicorn. And you, Commander, are an earth-pegasus. Storm Grey wasn’t able to hide having wings and a horn, but being an earth pony in addition to another type isn’t as obvious, is it?”
Silence. A few seconds dragged by.
“Guess we’re busted, huh?” Hurricane finally admitted, turning to Clover with a sardonic grin. “How?”
“It was the snow,” Celestia said. “The first time we went out to meet our transportation to the Cloud Empire, I noticed the way Cardinal Clover walked through the snow so easily, like there was an extra strength in her legs I couldn’t account for. Of course there was, but I didn’t know the explanation at the time – not until I became an alicorn and began to understand just what kind of magic it was, because I had earth pony magic of my own to compare to. Once I did, it was unmistakable. I could feel that same magic in Cardinal Clover, and then in you, Commander.”
“Yes, fine, I’m an earth-unicorn,” Clover said flatly. “My dirty little secret. If anypony had known, I would have been thrown out of Thaumosciences, and maybe banished to work a farm like other earth ponies. Star Fire would have loved it.”
“Don’t be too hard on Star Fire,” True Heart said. “She died to help make this happen, after all.”
“She died because you used me to kill her!” Celestia suddenly shouted, rounding on True Heart with a look of fury. “Didn’t you?”
True Heart gave Celestia a hard stare in return. “There was a plan. Setting an example was a necessary part of it. The needed concessions for your new Equestria to exist without a very bloody war would not have been made without such a vivid warning right before the eyes of the court nobles. They needed to be… convinced.”
“You have the mentality of an utter tyrant.” Luna shook her head in disbelief.
“Of course I do, I was a princess,” True Heart shot back. “We all have the roles that fate calls on us to play. So I played my part.”
“Was directing Star Fire to pursue an artificial version of earth pony magic part of the script?” Celestia asked.
“Things had to be coming to a disastrous head in order to spur the change that was truly needed,” True Heart argued defensively. “The idea wasn’t new, you realize. It would have happened with or without my involvement. The only control I really had over it was the decision over whether or not to use it to trigger the breaking point that would end unicorn oppression of the earth ponies.”
“You know the ironic thing about that?” Celestia asked bitterly. “Having an earth pony as your Cardinal Mage. Clover could have delivered the secrets of earth pony magic at any time. Couldn’t you?” She turned to look at Clover. “With your own earth pony magic to work with and test on, a mage of your caliber must have easily understood exactly how it works. You were just sitting idle the whole time on what Star Fire wanted so badly she was ready to kill and die for. And you let her.”
“Again, there was a plan,” Clover said softly.
“And putting me with Star Fire so I would find out what was going on – what you planned to let go on,” Celestia said venomously. “So my sister and I would be pulled in. So that we’d end up playing OUR part, too. That was also part of your plan.”
“Yes,” Clover acknowledged.
“And of course, with everything else planned out, you didn’t leave the most centrally important but absurdly difficult part to chance,” Luna added. “You already knew how to move the sun and the moon before we even started working on it, didn’t you? The help you were suddenly able to give us – the timing was just too perfect. You didn’t just happen to stumble across an ancient sun-mover’s notes in some spiderwebs, did you?”
“I knew, sort of, yes,” Clover sighed. “But not how to do it without frying the magic of almost anypony else and probably leaving them a lifeless husk.”
“And that’s why you needed us,” Luna concluded.
“No,” Storm Grey suddenly said, breaking her long brooding silence. “We needed you because of who you are, not because of what you can do. What you can do was an indicator that you were the right ponies, but not a reason. There’s a difference, silly girl.”
“What?” Celestia looked momentarily perplexed. “What does that mean?”
“Power!” Storm Grey exclaimed. “You were ponies who didn’t seek power, and it makes you the only ponies who could be trusted with it! The only ponies who could have it and not be destroyed, or destroy us all, with it! And what greater power is there than the endless wells of magic from the very sun and moon?”
“Don’t you see?” Clover asked softly. “None of us would dare take rule over the others.” She indicated herself, Hurricane, and Storm Grey. “We are… were… meant to be the harbingers, not the wielders. And anyway, we don’t fit: there’s three of us, but we’re only two types each.”
“So you made us alicorns,” Luna said. “Two of us, and both of us are all three types to be able to bring together all three kinds of ponies. I suppose I see the sense. Still, you must have had a plan for how to keep us leashed.”
“Leash such things as alicorns? How? No, I made the mistake, once, long, long ago, of thinking that I could control the monsters I create,” Storm Grey stated. “I was clever, but made utterly a fool by the idea that I should have power because I was two kinds instead of just one. And for my mistake, I had to wait five hundred years for others like me, more than one type of pony at a time, to appear so that the disaster I caused could finally start to heal. And now I know what I lacked back then: the wisdom to realize that if one cannot control their monsters, they must instead create the right type of monster.”
“Are we really those monsters?” Luna asked, her eyes narrowing with a sudden chill sweeping through the room.
“I believe so, but I know that ultimately I can only let go of trying to control anything,” Storm Grey answered her. “I can only hope and pray that you, silly little naïve girls, are the right type of naïve, the kind that leaves its virtues behind when naïveté fades into experience, and makes you into good monsters. Otherwise, this is all for nothing, and we are all lost.”
“Is that why you showed us the vision in your viewing-basin?” Celestia asked. “So that we would choose to be… ‘good monsters’?”
“It was not meant to give you a choice,” Storm Grey said. “It was meant to break your indecision. You were enabled to act by giving you understanding of what your choices meant.”
“And by doing that, you took our choices away!” Storm Grey's words touched something volatile in Celestia, and her response was filled with smoldering bile.
“That can be the price of knowing where they lead, can’t it?” Storm Grey asked, shrugging. “But just as True Heart couldn’t leave the appropriation of earth pony magic to chance, and Clover couldn’t leave your discovery of sun and moon moving to chance, I couldn’t leave the most important thing of all to chance.”
“…Whether or not we would actually do anything with all of this alicorn power,” Celestia said.
“Yes, girl, exactly.” Storm Grey nodded slowly. “You had to make the right decisions. You had to walk the path to fix what I could not. Hurricane saw that you felt lost, so she sent you to me and I saw to it that you would be guided.”
“Guided? Showing us the future we saw cursed us to live it, and not even by using magic on us directly,” Luna lamented. “You stole so much from us both without even trying. You really are a witch of terrible, terrible power.”
“Witch… yes. It’s what I do,” Storm Grey said sadly. “That’s the name and the fate I can never escape.”
“I think what Storm’s trying to say by all this—” Clover cleared her throat “—is that we three may be clever, but mere cleverness alone is ultimately tragic. But we want something more. Ponykind needs something more. We did what we did because you two can be better. You can be the thing they don’t call me. You can be… wise.”
“Indeed?” Celestia asked bitterly. “Well, I hope we can at least be wiser than to manipulate ponies into—”
“We all had our motivations for what we've done, Celestia,” Hurricane broke in, her voice stern but also surprisingly soft at the same time. “None of us are free from them. None of us. Someday, you’ll understand.”
Something about the way she said it reached deep into Celestia’s heart, tugging on the strings of a source of sadness she hadn’t even been fully aware of. She felt it evoked in her mind, sudden unbidden flashes of what felt like distant memories: something lost before its time, the empty hollow silence of an absence that would never be filled. It was the image of a statue posed heroically but still nothing but a shadow of the real thing, all that remained now of somepony she missed with a pain that ached and never faded.
As Celestia and Hurricane locked eyes across the table, Celestia felt the feeling of longing and loss pass between the two of them, communicated in some sort of inexplicable wordless raw flow of emotion washing into her mind. Her anger transmuted into a sorrowful empathy, because she knew suddenly that Hurricane had already faced what she would herself someday.
Their pain and sadness, she realized, was destined to be of the same substance, separated only by their respective places in time.
Celestia found herself momentarily at a loss for words.
“At least you were right in your self-reflection. Your methods make you unsuitable rulers,” Luna said, scowling. “All the wheels-within-wheels scheming and the unbelievable mendacity you’ve shown in contriving all of this to happen according to your designs at OUR expense only proves it.”
Hurricane looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “You didn’t think we could change the whole world all at once, did you?”
“No, I suppose the hardest thing to change is yourself,” Luna mused.
“Exactly.” Hurricane nodded back.
“But what you can do is keep helping us to change things for the better,” Celestia finally said, collecting and composing herself to focus on the present. “However angry my sister and I might be with all of you at this moment, it’s still true that we’re young and inexperienced, and we can’t do this all on our own. In any case, I don’t want to hold on to anger, either. It does nopony any good, so I think I’ll start by taking the Commander’s advice to heart and work on finding my forgiveness through an understanding of your motives.”
“No doubt only the first of many good pieces of advice we’ll get from you all,” Luna agreed.
“And maybe, then, it’s time we made the first of our many needed appointments as well,” Celestia said, turning to Luna. “What do you say? Our first council would be the time to appoint our first councillors.”
Luna just nodded, then turned to the other ponies.
“True Heart, you’ve already begun your service, but we would value your help in other ways, as well.” she said. “However, in a fair system, this shouldn’t be forced. As a gesture of wanting to deal in good faith, I release you from your geas.”
She looked at Celestia, who nodded her concurrence. A burst of faint green and purple magic dissipated forth from True Heart, dissolving apart into strings of vanishing gossamer as it faded to nothing. True Heart looked surprised, but relieved.
“We’ll need help running our court, and I can think of nopony more qualified than one who has already been on the throne herself,” Luna continued. “We would like to appoint you as our counsellor general and court advisor. Will you accept?”
“I will.” True Heart nodded.
“Excellent. Now, going beyond the royal court, this new land will also need its magical affairs overseen by an expert,” Celestia said. “To that end: Clover the Clever, we would like you to be the first arch-mage of Equestria.”
“Well.” Clover rubbed her chin in thought. “I suppose the new ruler of the Unicorn Kingdom might not want to keep me on as their Royal Cardinal Mage, after what I did to the last ruler. I should probably consider whatever job offers I can get, shouldn’t I?”
“We’ll take that as a yes.” Luna smiled. “Thank you.”
“And as for you, Storm Grey.” Celestia turned to the dark pegacorn. “My sister and I may be powerful in raw magic terms, but your sheer talent, experience, and skill are more astounding than I’ve ever seen from any other mage. I’m forced to humble myself and admit just how much we have left to learn. Your task will be to teach us all you know.”
“I may not have the time left for teaching all,” Storm said, suddenly looking tired at just the thought. “But I will give you what I can, if you must know it.”
“I think we must,” Celestia replied. “Thank you. We will see to making time for lessons.”
“Commander Hurricane,” Luna addressed the last pony left. “You have your own ponies to lead, and it would not be our place to ask for service from a fellow ruler. What we will ask for, however, is mutual cooperation in keeping relations strong and friendly between Equestria and the Cloud Empire.”
“Absolutely,” Hurricane said. “I’d look forward to a Cloud Empire with actual friends, for a change.”
“Good.” Luna nodded in satisfaction. “I think that covers everything my sister and I wanted to address for now. I apologize for the admittedly antagonistic tone we may have had coming into this meeting. We’ve been upset by the things we came to realize we weren’t told, I hope you can all understand. The sense of being a pawn doesn’t make one feel appreciated. I hope that going forward, we can all be more honest with each other. Is that not how it should be?”
She looked around the table. Four ponies, most of them not quite able to meet her eyes, nodded their heads in sheepish agreement.
“If there’s nothing from anypony else, this council is adjourned,” Celestia declared.
The four ponies stood up, one by one, and walked out of the room.
☙ ☀ ❧
“Well, that went better than I was worried it might,” Luna finally ventured once the others had gone and shut the door behind them, leaving the sisters alone in the counsel chamber.
“And worse than I’d hoped for, at the same time,” Celestia responded.
“Yes.” Luna nodded, with sad, downcast eyes. “And worse.”
“I hoped so hard it wasn’t true,” Celestia continued, growing distraught. “That we were being paranoid and imagining things, and it was all just dumb luck after all. That it wasn’t all laid out, that we…” She choked on her words.
“…That our path didn’t have to be what it is.” Luna nuzzled Celestia’s neck, then drew her into a long hug.
“Winter Wheat gets to be a mother, but I never will,” Celestia lamented, blinking her watering eyes.
“I’m here for you,” Luna said, kissing Celestia gently on the side of her head, “if you need to let it out.”
“No.” Celestia shook her head slightly but defiantly. “I’ve cried my tears about it. More won’t do any good. More only leads to more, and they’ll only hold me here, dwelling on it forever. Better to just be done with it.”
“Alright.” Luna leaned against Celestia, rubbing her back with one wing. “But remember, you needn’t be a mare of iron, either. Please don’t become one.”
“There’s only one thing it’s important for us to be now,” Celestia said. “We’re princesses. It’s our responsibility now to make the best of our kingdom.”
Luna was quiet for a long time.
“But are we good ponies?” she finally asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Celestia whispered. “I want to be, but at this price? After what we’ve done to get here? I just don’t know anymore.”
“But you ARE good ponies!” Twilight Sparkle protested earnestly as she stood up, leaning forward and looking up at Celestia with an intense stare. Her eyes were shining in the brilliant sun coming through the windows of the private solarium they were in, up at the top of one of the high spires of the palace.
“That’s very kind of you to say,” Celestia spoke softly, meeting Twilight’s gaze.
“…Still, I—” Twilight coughed delicately and flicked her eyes away to the polished tile floor momentarily. “—I can’t really imagine you killing somepony. It’s… just…”
“It was only the one time,” Celestia said. “But once was enough, Twilight, to leave a scar that lasts forever.”
“But it doesn’t mean you’re not good. It was over a thousand years ago, and you’ve done so many good things for everypony since then,” Twilight argued fervently.
“Maybe I have.” Celestia nodded. “I’m not saying it’s still an open wound, or some great inner conflict I’m not at peace with after all this time. It’s just something I can never change. It taught me to be careful of the scars I take on, because even if you can let go of them, they might not ever let go of you.”
Twilight lowered her head. “Yeah,” she sighed, and nuzzled Celestia gently. Celestia returned the gesture, lowering her muzzle to gently ruffle the back of Twilight’s mane.
“Anyway, so that’s what really happened?” Twilight asked after a long pause. “Everything you just told me is the real story of how you and Luna ended up here as princesses? It seems so… well, I don’t know.”
“Were you expecting something else?”
“No, not exactly.” Twilight shook her head. “It just surprises me, I guess, how you started out so… normal.”
“Of course we did, my little pony.” Celestia nodded. “We’re merely flesh and blood, like you and everypony else. We were born, we started our lives from scratch, and we had to learn and grow into what we are. Nopony, and certainly not a princess, just wanders out of the woods one day fully formed.”
“No, I…” Twilight thought for a moment. “I guess that makes sense. I just honestly hadn’t thought about it that much. I mean, of course I know the traditional Hearth’s Warming story, and obviously I knew parts of it were probably mythical after so much time. I just didn’t really consider which parts.”
“I may not have made that story up myself, but I certainly didn’t get in the way of the narrative being about the three pony types of Equestria finding they could come together on their own.” Celestia winked. “Over time, the story has become the story ponies needed, which is often more important than the literal version.”
“I can see that, but I’d also assumed that the essential kernels of truth about the main players were more or less accurate,” Twilight continued. “Clover the Clever, Commander Hurricane, Princess Platinum… they all seem so much more… well, complicated, now that you’ve pulled the curtain back for me.”
“As I said, merely flesh and blood, like everypony else,” Celestia repeated. “Please try not to think too harshly of them. They all had their motivations for what they did, and I understand that now only too well. Besides, you’ve only heard my side of the story, and none of them are still here to tell you theirs. It wouldn’t be fair to put them on trial when they can’t defend themselves. However imperfect they may have been, Equestria wouldn’t exist without them. That much of the, as you put it, essential kernel of truth to the Hearth’s Warming tale is indeed true.”
“Right, right.” Twilight nodded in agreement. “Everything you’ve told me still leaves me with so many questions, though! Like, what about Quartz City? And where did Storm Grey come from? I’ve never even heard of her. And… well, there’s about a million more I could ask!”
“Yes, you always did love to ask questions. To be brief about your first one: Quartz City never really went away. The rise of House Umbra, and eventually King Sombra taking the throne, led to its transformation as the seat of the Crystal Empire in the North. That’s a separate story related to my earlier days as Princess. This was all when Luna was still with me, of course. And as for your other question…”
Celestia started pacing around the solarium. Twilight waited patiently, though the faint clicking of Celestia’s horseshoes on the stone-tiled floor started making one of her ears twitch just a hair.
“Storm Grey and her tragedy is another long tale in its own right,” Celestia finally said. “Long enough that I think it’s a story for another time. Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, but not now.” She stopped and stared out the window in thought, her gaze far off in the distance. “Not now.”
“Can you at least tell me why she’s not mentioned in the traditional story?”
“She…” Celestia paused. “Well, I don’t think it’s what she would have wanted. Fame, I mean. The immortality of living forever in celebrated myth. I’ve tried to avoid talking about her to prevent that from happening.”
“Um.” Twilight hesitated, with something visibly not sitting quite right with her. She lifted one forehoof, set it down again gently, and took a breath before she spoke her mind. “Did you really avoid her because she would have wanted her privacy, or because you were still upset with her? I’m sorry, there’s no great way to ask that, I know.”
Celestia stared blankly at Twilight for a long moment with a shadow of the slightest frown on her lips. Twilight fidgeted awkwardly and began to shrink back the tiniest bit.
Then Celestia’s eyes softened and her characteristic gentle smile returned. “It’s true, she hurt me deeply by what she took from me.” Celestia nodded. “I was very upset about it for a very long time. Hating her is something I’m not proud of, but it’s the truth. Your intuitions serve you well, Twilight. They’ll be a valuable asset as a princess.”
“I’m sorry for the part of your life that you’ve lost to her,” Twilight offered. “If it makes you feel any better, sometimes you were like a second mother to me.”
“Twilight.” Celestia let out a pained sigh. “I’ll be honest, I’ve tried to avoid assuming that kind of role in the lives of any of my students. I never thought it was my place, and besides…” she trailed off.
“And you didn’t think it was possible anyway?” Twilight suggested.
“Possible, I didn’t know. But more importantly, I never saw it. Not in the vision.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t believe in fate,” Twilight stated.
“Fate?” Celestia laughed briefly. “Oh, no, Twilight. Surely you’re right about that – Storm Grey wasn’t lying when she said the universe wasn’t so cruel as to impose fate. I always—” Celestia paused “—I always had a choice, of course.”
“Then why?” Twilight asked, her face suddenly somewhere between confused and angry. “Why hurt yourself like that?”
“Because it wasn’t in the vision, I told you.” Celestia hung her head. “You have to understand, Twilight. There was a path, a very clear path but only one path, that led here, to all that has happened in the time I’ve reigned as a princess. To the bright future ponykind has ahead of it now. And, ultimately, to you. I could have deviated from that path. I could have turned aside from it, chosen a good stallion, had my foals when I still could. But there was no seeing what would have resulted.”
“Would not knowing the future really be so bad?” Twilight asked. “Most ponies live that way every day. It doesn’t stop them.”
“There was just so much to lose,” Celestia replied mournfully. “On the one hoof, I saw a future I knew to be good and prosperous. On the other… I’d have to trade it all for a sheer roll of the dice so that I can have my foal. And I… I made a promise to somepony else that there would be a good future for her children. Didn’t I?”
“I guess you did,” Twilight admitted grudgingly. “Did Winter Wheat have her foal?”
“An adorable little unicorn filly.” Celestia nodded. “I taught her to read myself, as well as many other things. She was my first student.”
“Aww.” Twilight smiled. “I wish I could have met her.”
“Every time you look in a mirror, you see some of her.” Celestia returned the smile. “She lives on in you, Twilight.”
“She’s my ancestor?” Twilight asked, leaning forward excitedly.
“Yes, although after more than a thousand years that could be said of a great many ponies from back then. Still, I’ve followed her lineage particularly. More than one student of mine has been drawn from it. Some quite recently. Your predecessor, even.”
“Sunset Shimmer?” Twilight grinned.
“Indeed. You are, oh, what is it? Fourth cousins, I believe, after all?”
“I hadn’t checked.” Twilight’s smile only widened. “I guess I should look at the genealogy.”
“Perhaps you should sometime,” Celestia agreed. “But for now, come sit with me and just enjoy the day for a bit, won’t you?”
Twilight came forward to stand side-by-side next to Celestia. They sat down together on the stone-tiled floor. Both of them closed their eyes and spread their wings slightly and passed the time in silence for a little while, basking in the warm sun.
“So…” Twilight finally spoke again, cracking open an eyelid. “I’m curious. What does your vision tell you about the path from here?”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” Celestia responded casually, eyes still closed.
“It– wait, what?” Twilight turned her head to look over at Celestia in confusion.
“I left the vision’s path to save Luna,” Celestia explained. “You see, Twilight, there was a fork: I could continue down the road I’d been walking for a thousand years, or I could take my chance to get her back. This fork would only come exactly once, in the thousandth year after her banishment. Never again. Stars drift over time. They orbit through the galaxy. They end up in new, unpredictable places. They even burn out and vanish. They would never again align to aid her escape but for that one singular moment, and I had to choose, so I did. I don’t know what it means for us all, but heaven help me, I chose.”
“Well, you know what? I’m glad you did,” Twilight said reassuringly. “I’m glad Luna’s back.”
“So am I, Twilight.” Celestia nodded. “So am I.”
Twilight leaned against Celestia’s side. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said.
“But, was I wise to make that choice?” Celestia acknowledged the inevitable question while she wrapped a wing around Twilight and enveloped her in great, shining white feathers.
“What are you talking about?” Twilight laughed. “You couldn’t have handled that whole situation more wisely. You knew exactly what you were doing even when I had no idea yet. Sending me to make friends with just the right ponies to find the Elements of Harmony—”
“No, Twilight.” Celestia shook her head. “That was perhaps very clever of me, but there’s such a world of difference between clever and wise.”
“Well, if it all turned out to have a good ending, I don’t see what the difference is.”
“The difference is that cleverness is merely knowing how to make something happen,” Celestia said. “Wisdom, though: wisdom is knowing when to ask, ‘But at what price?’”
“Isn’t it also knowing when to ask the same question about the price of not doing something?” Twilight asked. “Because the price of not acting would have also been a high one.”
“That’s a very comforting justification, if I was looking for a way to rationalize to myself,” Celestia said. “But I fear that accepting the offer of easy self-assured comfort in my own correctness might not be setting a very good example for you.”
“No, maybe not.” Twilight sighed. “I just don’t want to see you unhappy.”
“Believe me, this is happier than the alternative,” Celestia reassured her. “I think it’s the first time in a very, very long time that I really have been happy, truth be told.”
“Hmmm?” Twilight looked up curiously at Celestia, prompting her to continue.
“Making the choice to save Luna is where I parted ways from the singular path I could see, and in a way, that departure is very freeing,” Celestia explained.
“I suppose that’d be true.” Twilight nodded. “You finally freed yourself from Storm Grey’s curse.”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Celestia folded her wings and shifted where she sat. “Storm Grey’s curse, vision, prophecy, whatever it may be called, worked perfectly, as it turns out. Storm Grey was certainly smart enough to know that nothing lasts forever, including the scope of whatever path she could convince me to follow. The more I look back upon it with the advantage of retrospection, the more I understand that, somehow, it was meant to end here.”
“So she won?” Twilight’s ears lowered. “After all this, she gets to win?”
“I wouldn’t frame it in those terms,” Celestia said. “It was never about winning or losing. I may have hated her, but we weren’t enemies. We each had a part in doing what it took to fix a terrible, terrible mistake and heal the rift that would have torn our three races apart and destroyed us all.”
“Maybe, but I still don’t think it was fair to put the price on you,” Twilight said resentfully.
“It was never about fair, either.” Celestia shook her head, mane rippling ethereally in an unfelt wind. “Luna and I came from the unicorns who oppressed our fellow ponies. We were part of the problem, and so it fell on us to be part of the solution. It was never going to be fair to ask such a thing of anypony, but it had to be somepony. And now I’m sorry, Twilight, that I must do the same unfairness to you.”
“Unfairness?” Twilight tilted her head in confusion. “Being offered the throne is an honor, if that’s what you mean.”
“You never asked to be made an alicorn,” Celestia pointed out.
“Again, another honor, really,” Twilight countered.
“I’m glad you see it that way.” Celestia smiled. “Perhaps that’s a better view than the one I took for so long. I should try learning a thing or two from you, for a change.”
“I don’t know, I still feel like I have a lot to learn,” Twilight said. “For example, I wouldn’t mind learning that future sight spell. Might come in handy, if—”
“No, Twilight!” Celestia’s voice was suddenly stern, her eyes narrowed and hard. “You must understand, there’s a reason I never taught you such things. I would never give you or any of my students any future divination spells or show you visions of the kind I was shown.”
“I just…” Twilight looked away sheepishly. “…Right. It would be Storm Grey all over again, wouldn’t it?”
“The cycles that have caused us trauma and hurt tend to repeat themselves, inflicted on others in turn at our own hooves,” Celestia spoke softly, nodding. “We have to be aware and diligent about breaking them if we want to build something better.”
“Maybe mere ponies shouldn’t have that kind of power anyway,” Twilight murmured. “I guess I still have a few things to learn about temptation, too, huh?”
“Believe me, I understand how alluring it is. But the very reason I’ve asked you to take the throne is because you don’t need that kind of power.” Celestia said. “You don’t need to be bound by the chains it causes you to make for yourself. Not like me. That path has ended, Twilight. That’s the entire point of putting you in charge. We, ponykind, have a boundless, open future ahead now, instead of something prosperous but nonetheless static and predetermined.”
“Twilight,” Celestia began slowly, “to explain why, I have to make a confession. It’s my deepest and darkest one. It may change how you see me, and I’m afraid of that because I value our friendship very greatly.”
“Nothing will make me stop being your friend,” Twilight said. “You’ve gone this far already. You know you can tell me anything.”
Celestia took a deep breath and let it out. “The truth is I’m an incredibly selfish pony, Twilight.”
“No you’re n—”
Celestia raised a hoof, stopping Twilight’s words of protest. “I am,” she continued. “Selfishness has, in fact, been the defining quality at the very core of my reign for a thousand years.”
“How can you say that?” Twilight pleaded.
“I can say it because when I had to banish Luna, my heart was broken in two, and I was missing half of myself,” Celestia said. “All I cared about was getting her back, so I did what it took. The hope of just seeing her again drove me forward all this time. It led me to do the things I’ve done as Princess in the hope of creating the right circumstances and the right world, the right Equestria, for her to return to and be saved in. Following the vision was how the Equestria you see today was made. I know it’s a good place for ponies to live. It’s a place where they’re happy. That’s how I know I’ve done well enough as a Princess, so far as that has motivated me, but the truth underneath it is that I’ve been selfish, Twilight. So completely selfish.”
“Well, how far would any of us go to save our own sister?” Twilight asked. “You love her. That’s only to be expected.”
“Love is a strange thing,” Celestia said. “It’s selfless, but viciously selfish at the same time. Nothing you do is for yourself, but you’d do anything – anything – for how you feel. I would have done anything for Luna. Love can make you do the right thing, but I don’t know if it can do it for the right reasons. Being selfish is why I followed the path for a thousand years, and being selfish is also why I left that path. Storm Grey’s vision was so effective at convincing me to put myself in a cage of my own making because she understood me better than I understood myself back then. She understood how selfish I am because, at the heart of it, that’s how she saw all ponies. I was no different.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
“That is why this must end,” Celestia said. “As a pony who knew well about these things once told me, a ruler needs to know when to step down for the good of her people.”
“What, because you have Luna back?” Twilight asked. “Because your need has been satisfied? So that’s it? You just w-walk away and l-leave us behind?” Her voice quivered. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “You’re r-right, you really are selfish.”
Just as the dam crumbled and broke completely, Celestia reached out and pulled Twilight in. She collapsed into the fur of Celestia’s chest, sobbing. The sobs slowly faded and quieted over a few minutes as Celestia held Twilight, gently rocking her side-to-side.
“No queen rules forever, my student,” Celestia said softly, resting her cheek on the top of Twilight’s head.
Finally, soothed in her teacher’s embrace, Twilight was still and quiet again. “I know it must hurt,” Celestia whispered into Twilight’s ear. “I know, because even as a filly, you so rarely cried. You’ve always been so brave. I need you to be brave again now, and understand that my time must end for us to move forward.”
“But I don’t understand!” Twilight cried out bitterly. “What was so bad about how you were running Equestria? Things were fine!”
“I wasn’t fine, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Remember what I said about cycles of trauma repeating themselves. Luna and I can never be ‘fine.’ We’re products of the time we come from – ancient relics of a Unicorn Kingdom guilty of many sins against ponykind. And remember, some scars never let go of you.”
“But you don’t seem so scarred to me.”
“Again, awareness and diligence,” Celestia said. “That’s how destructive cycles are broken, and new, more positive ones begin in their place. I’ve tried my best to start a new self-perpetuating culture of tolerance, friendship, and acceptance. Those things give us freedom, and in turn, freedom gives us more of those things. The opposite, the decline into mutually reinforcing tyranny and bigotry, is also true.”
“Sure, but again, that’s not YOU,” Twilight insisted.
“No, it may not be me – at least, not all of me,” Celestia acknowledged. “But it’s a seed, buried deep within. Our formative years are the most important, Twilight. Look at it like this: what we learn as foals literally wires our brains for the rest of our lives, inextricably. Language. Customs. Behavioral standards. Those sorts of things. And in some ways, the same is true about the first time you learn anything, at any age. What you see from your prime role models is critical, and when it comes to the nature of power, my first role models… well. That’s what this whole story has been about, hasn’t it?”
“Oh.” Twilight looked saddened. “Clover. Platinum. Hurricane. Star Fire. The whole… the whole system you grew up in. Yeah. I guess– I guess I see. Like Luna said. The hardest thing to change is yourself.”
“Yes,” Celestia agreed. “It’s not that I would ever set out to be a monster. Nopony ever does that. Pure evil is never an end for its own sake. And why would it be? That doesn’t make sense. No, it’s the little steps, the ones that do make sense, bit by bit, that ultimately get you there. It’s the cleverness of little things that seem harmless, that seem like a smart move, even seem necessary at the time. That’s what does you in. I’ve tried to be wiser, but Clover’s cleverness, I’m afraid, has nonetheless rubbed off on me, and I can’t deny that this is so. The ruthlessness of the clever option for gaining the power to solve whatever problem is at hoof in the most expedient way is always something that lives in the back of my mind, thanks to her.”
“For what it’s worth, you have been wise,” Twilight said hopefully. “Looking around at Equestria today it’s obvious.”
“Thank you, Twilight.” Celestia smiled, basking for just a moment in the flattery. “Still, foundationally, myself and Luna’s first exposure to role models of leadership was from those with a despotic lust for power. And when it seems the sensible thing, when we get desperate enough, that’s what I fear we may turn to. That’s where Nightmare Moon came from. That’s why Daybreaker will always live somewhere inside of me. On a long enough timeline, something, somehow, will eventually precipitate them again. Cycles, Twilight. The cycles of trauma echo for so long.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” Twilight said.
“You needn’t be.” Celestia waved it off. “It’s not as if I’m still in pain, as I said before. It’s just that the potential never completely disappears. That’s why, ultimately, my real job, more than anything else, was to be a better role model to you and all of my students than my role models were to me. I can’t rule forever because I wasn’t meant to be the end of history, only another step in an ongoing process – as are we all. That’s the final secret of what Storm Grey really intended: this was never my story. Like Clover, Storm, and Hurricane before me, I find that I was just the harbinger for something better.”
“But I don’t think that’s so different from me. I worry about the same things!” Twilight fretted. “I worry about how to build something beyond myself. I worry about putting more important things ahead of my own desires. I worry about being a good princess. Isn’t that what any good leader should do?”
“Understandable. But let me tell you something, Twilight: Clover was clever. I like to think I have, for the most part, been wise. But you: you can do better than any of us.” Celestia spoke as warmly and hopefully as the sun glowing behind her, illuminating her face around the edges in a halo. “You can, at last, be the truly good princess we’ve been waiting for. Equestria deserves a good pony on its throne – and what’s in your heart shines like a rainbow. I’m so proud of you, Twilight Sparkle. You’re everything I’d hoped for you to become.”
The old Princess embraced the new, and there, in the high spire bathed in shining sunlight, they hugged each other for a long time.
“You are a good pony,” Celestia whispered.
☀ Sunrise The End
Writing began on a cold but sunny winter’s day, on February 7, 2016 Completed on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, June 21, 2021
