> The Wizard and the Griffon King
>  by Daedalus Aegle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Act One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Say that again? I’m not sure I understand the problem,” Starlight said to the angry dragon who was pacing back and forth in front of a large chart.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Spike fumed. “I finally got every issue and plotted out the whole history. I was so excited to finally finish the complete continuity chronicle of the Power Ponies! It took me two years to track the last issue down. Nopony’s ever been able to piece it all together before.”

They were alone in the map chamber in the Castle of Friendship, and Spike had taken after his older sister in using it as a place to prepare presentations. Starlight nodded slowly. “Okay, I’m with you so far. Um. Well done? So what’s the problem?”

“Look!” Spike struck the chalkboard with an extendable pointer. In the middle of the chart showing dozens, maybe hundreds of interconnected nodes on a web was a series of lines leading to a large question mark.

The question mark was labeled “The Mane-iac vs Radiance hypothesis conundrum”. Every line leading to it terminated in a red X, sometimes intersecting one another.

“This is the point that explains how Radiance pursued the Mane-iac through an alley in Mane Street in Power Ponies #299, in the Curling Iron Catastrophe Saga, only to reappear from a subway tunnel in Donkey Kong Way in Iron Mare #41 without Mane-iac in time to join in the fight with the Turnabouters against Hungros the Space Warrior,” Spike explained. “All the time machines were in use in the Moon War, faster than light travel was forbidden while negotiations continued with the Photonites, and teleportation across Maretropolis was impossible because of Doctor Malice’s quantum stasis field. I’ve tried every possible explanation and none of it works. But unless Radiance made it halfway across Maretropolis in negative ten minutes there was no way to stop Hungros from destroying the city and the entire history of the Power Ponies falls apart!”

“…I think you might be expecting too much from the writers.”

“The writing is fine,” Spike said. “Everyone’s in character. Radiance got some great zingers. But I can’t figure out how she got there in a way that works within the rules of the Power Ponies universe.”

“Aren’t those two issues from different series? And by different writers?” Starlight asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not that surprising that somepony got mixed up.”

“It’s not a writing mistake. It’s the world itself they got wrong. The whole Power Ponies historical timeline falls apart, and without them the Mare-vel Universe collapses! The whole comic would be different. There has to be some other explanation.”

Starlight nodded slowly, blinking. “Okay, but you realize the Power Ponies are fiction, right?”

Spike stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Starlight laughed nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, when I was a kid I loved the Power Ponies too! But, like, those comics aren’t a window to some other world with a real history that you can accurately describe. The writers are making it up as they go along. Those writers don’t even agree with each other about what the characters are about.”

“I know what fiction is, Starlight,” Spike said. “But you can’t just tell stories that don’t hang together! Of course there’s a plan. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“I think you’re supposed to just enjoy each story on its own and not think too much about it.”

“But the stories shape each other,” Spike insisted. “Like how Fili-Second’s talk with Zapp at the end of the Octagon Calamity completely changes its meaning if you know that she saw the Calamity Jewel in Unestria in Power Ponies #70. The deeper you go the richer it gets. It has to mean something.”

Starlight rolled her eyes and laughed softly at the passion of youth. Spike glared at her with the passionate indignation of foalhood.

“I’m sure you’ll make peace with it eventually,” Starlight said. “Where’s Twilight? I have those books she wanted.”

“She’s in the library,” Spike said. He turned back to his chart, deep in thought. “Maybe if…”

Starlight smiled and shook her head softly, and left him to his work.

She found the library door open and poked her head in. “Twilight? I’m back from Sire’s Hollow! Are you in here?”

“Hi Starlight,” Twilight waved a hoof without looking up from where she sat at her reading desk, the table piled high with books. “Wait, you’re back already?”

Starlight took in the scene. The table was piled high with books. Sheets of note paper was scattered around covered in hurried scribbles. Twilight’s favorite chalkboard had been deployed, and likewise covered in thoughts as detailed as they were obscure, and placed on the floor were the remains of sandwiches and drinks that bore tell-tale marks of having been prepared by a dragon kid brother for a distracted sister and then not cleared away. “Have you been in here all weekend?”

Twilight blinked in confusion and looked up at the sunlight streaming in through a window. “Apparently so.”

“What are you doing?”

“Historical research,” Twilight said. “I’ve been doing some deep reading on one of my favorite subjects: Star Swirl the Bearded. I’m looking at my sources to find out if they can be trusted.”

Starlight picked up one of the books and looked at the sticky note on its cover: Pro-Commander Hurricane bias. Anti-Star Swirl but credible re: diplomatic norms.

She returned it to its place. “That’s one way to spend a weekend, I guess.”

Twilight nodded. “The problem is that everycreature who writes about Star Swirl has a radically different opinion about him, so piecing together the truth is like assembling a shattered mirror. Thankfully we do have some primary sources written by the pony himself, but those are mostly academic texts.”

She chortled happily before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, Star Swirl the Bearded’s writings are invaluable, both historically and magiscientifically. But it’s been a constant headache for historians that this pivotal stallion who lived through such turbulent times hardly ever wrote a word about himself or his private life.”

She grabbed a book and flipped it open, searching for a page. “Ponies have tried to analyze his writings to see what they say about him as a pony, but they’ve come to wildly different conclusions. Like a good researcher he’s very dispassionate about his data. But the downside to that is that he writes about everything in the same flat tone. Like, take this page of The Other Side of Up.”

She pointed to the open double spread, showing two remarkable creatures. “This is the Fluffbeast, the fluffiest possible entity. It is mathematically proven to be so: there can be no fluffier without breaking the rules of the universe. And this is the Living Family, an undead collective of ponies whose decaying bodies rise from their graves to continue going through the motions of family life, a hollow and monstrous parody of love and companionship that will expand outwards to consume entire cities if it isn’t destroyed. Star Swirl considers both of them to be exactly as horrifying and adorable.”

“I’m sure you’re having a lot of fun,” Starlight said. “What brought this on? Unless you’ve suddenly taken an interest – a totally healthy interest, I’m sure – in the trotting dead?”

“I think I’ve uncovered a mystery,” Twilight said. “On Friday night I was doing some light bedtime reading about Star Swirl the Bearded, as you do, and I noticed several references to a particular incident he was involved in. But when I looked it up I was surprised. Did you know that Star Swirl the Bearded is an entire literary genre?”

Twilight gestured to the tall stack of books piled on her desk: a well-worn copy of Clover the Clever’s biography of Star Swirl the Bearded, Pony Tales of the Pre-Classical Era, Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet, Bygone Griffons of Greatness, and others.

“There’s an episode from his life that helped shape the entire continent of Equestria in the Pre-Classical Era,” Twilight continued. “But the sources disagree wildly about what happened, and I’m trying to piece together the truth of it. This is from the mid-point of his career, and though his life was already the stuff of legend it was a long time still before he become the very image of a venerable archmage that’s known to all.”

“I don’t think he’s actually known to all, Twilight.”

“You’re right! Nopony truly knows Star Swirl the Bearded. Nopony understands the sensitive heart that beats in his chest, the deep well of emotion hidden behind the mask of the stern, distant sage. Nopony, except maybe me.”

“That’s not what I… y’know what, never mind. So okay, what’s this about then?”

Twilight pulled out The Rise of the Griffon Empire from the stack and flipped it open to reveal a grand illustration in the old Griffish style. “The meeting between Star Swirl the Bearded and Griffon King Blaze.”











Long ago, in a place that no longer exists.

In the tall Falcon Mountains of the Griffon Empire, beneath peaks white with snow in midsummer from which waters ran down to the distant plains of the provinces, lay the Aetite Duchy.

Griffons soared through the skies. They flew gliding on the powerful buffeting winds of the mountaintops, or rising on heat drafts from the plains far below, carrying news from every corner of the Empire to their rulers in their regal homes. But for the unfortunate earthbound, or the transport of goods that could not be carried through the air, roads from the old days remained where they had been carved into the mountainside.

The roads up the mountains were narrow and steep and twisting, with a sheer cliff on one side and empty air on the other, turning on sharp corners where your face would be sprayed with droplets and your ears filled with the roaring of a waterfall from far above, making its own clouds that hid the ground below from sight. There was no shelter from the winds, and one wrong step would send a creature plummeting to oblivion in the dark chasms far below.

A pony climbed the road, his cloak flapping and setting the bells that lined its hem and the brim of his hat a-jingling, a light sound that the eagle ears of the guards heard from miles away as they flew in circles up above.

One flapped his wings and turned, and pointed his spear. “Heads up! Pony approaching the Aerie on the road!”

“Stand down!” the second guard said. “Didn’t you hear the briefing? They’re expecting a pony, they said to let him pass.”

“Him? That grim-looking old trotter?” The first guard scoffed. “Really scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t they?”

“He’s supposed to be somebirdy special. The Unicorn King cares about power, not looks.” He chuckled. “It won’t matter. They have nothing to offer, and no strength to fight. They’ll fall like the rest, and that wizard’s body will lay on the pile with all the others.”

The pony suddenly turned and looked up at them.

Though they were hundreds of feet away the guard fell silent, as though the pony had heard them, and looked at him like his old teacher had done when he’d erred in his lessons as a hatchling. He clenched his beak shut and fumed with sudden anger, his wings beating a touch too fast and too forcefully.

Star Swirl the Bearded turned back to the road and kept climbing, rising up towards the mountain’s spine, where stood the aerie that held the palace of Duke Godfrey.











Excerpt from ‘The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded’, by Clover the Clever.

Many stories are told about Star Swirl the Bearded. But one particular story is special, even by his standards.

It is famously known that Griffon King Blaze has an undying vendetta against Star Swirl the Bearded. A vendetta that has driven him to scour all of Equis for the greatest killers alive, assassins and monsters and others, and sent them to kill the great wizard.

But while the broad outlines of the story are well known the details are not only obscure but contradictory in every regard. The truth of what was said and done when the two of them met in private to decide the fate of Equestria, and just what happened to enrage the Griffon King into swearing a blood oath of vengeance, remains a mystery. One that I, as the pony closest to the great wizard, decided to solve.

I have had mixed results. But I did my best, and I am sure that my work will shed light on history.











Excerpt from ‘The Rise of the Griffon Empire’, by Grindaxe the Griffon.

I was there at the Aetite ducal palace when Star Swirl the Bearded came to meet with King Blaze. I was gathering information to present to the Duke himself, in preparation for a possible attack on [redacted] (a task naturally given to the griffon who had won the most honors and had the most doctorates from the University of Griffonstone in Griffon history, Griffon logistics, and Griffon philosophy of any griffon living. I had never failed a task and if any of my ungrateful underlings claim otherwise that is only because they are liars, filthy liars seeking to pin their own failures on their betters) and so I saw the pony when he appeared. All the various griffons lounging about the palace for frivolous reasons immediately began to gossip about this new arrival and his absurd ensemble.

I alone was not deceived, and I warned the griffons around me not to be fooled by his clownish appearance. That pony was utterly heartless. An emotionally stunted thug, wielded as a blunt instrument by his rulers.

I knew as soon as I looked at him that no good could come from dealing with him, and as in so many other things events would soon prove me right.

Those treacherous ponies claimed he was there to bargain for peace. But it was all a great deception.

He had come to kill the Griffon King.











Excerpt from ‘The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded’, by Clover the Clever.

Let’s step back and look at the state of Equestria in the dark age of the three tribes.

Previously the lands of ponies had been prosperous and strong. Pony magic is the most powerful on Equis. Unicorns mastered the arcane arts. Earth ponies make the land fruitful and kind, to raise strong and healthy defenders. Pegasi control the weather beyond anything griffons can attempt. Ponies even move the very sun and moon. Since ancient times ponies have always been the keystone of Equis itself. And griffons, for all their warlike ways, couldn’t defeat ponies when we were united.

But after the fall of the Old Dominion the three pony tribes were divided and disorganized, while the Griffon Empire was strong, and eager to flex its muscle. Griffon King Blaze commanded his armies to fly across the land, defeating one tribe of creatures after another, adding their countries to the Empire.

In the end it was clear the growing Empire would threaten the lands of ponies. So King Blaze sent an ultimatum to each of the three pony tribes: surrender, or be conquered.

Commander Hurricane and Chancellor Bitemark rejected it without hesitation, and vowed to fight to the bitter end. But nopony believed they could stand against the griffon war machine.

Unicorn King Titanium had another idea. He proposed to send an ambassador to negotiate a peace agreement., and King Blaze agreed to hear him out.

The Unicorn King sent his court wizard, Star Swirl the Bearded.

Nopony thought the Professor would succeed, and indeed many joked (or didn’t joke) that the Unicorn King just wanted to get rid of the wizard,* whose famous bad attitude was sure to get him into a fight with the griffons and his head put on a pike.

(*: I asked Princess Platinum her thoughts about this theory. She burst into laughter and said yes, that sounded exactly like something her grandfather would do.)

The two of them met in a private summit. And Equis would never be the same.











Let me tell you a story about how it ends.

Star Swirl the Bearded has done a lot in his life, and he will do a lot more.

At this point he is not yet the ancient, white-maned arch-mage described by his student. He is younger than that, perhaps in his forties, and his long beard is turning grey more from history than from time.

(His age, like many things, is unclear. It shouldn’t be. It should be perfectly possible to tell precisely when this happened, all things considered. And yet it is.)

He is not a popular pony and he is not a pleasant pony. Wherever he goes, he is hated and feared. Whatever dark magic he has absorbed strains at the seams of him, wearing him like a disguise.

Sometimes he grimaces and jerks in pain, as though fighting to keep it contained as it tries to break free, until the moment passes and he returns, for him, to normal.

Whatever else is true, when creatures look at him what they see looking back has very little pony left in him: the spirit of a mage who has lost or cast aside everything that made him weak.

The gate was opened and Star Swirl the Bearded stepped through into the presence of the lord of all griffons, master of the Empire. The wizard stood tall and unflinching, prepared for whatever would come. “I have come to you, King Blaze. Perhaps my reputation precedes me.”

The Griffon King turned, his long red and white ermine cloak swirling about him, and looked down on the pony. His golden crown reflected the light from the great fireplace that burned along the far wall. His front half was eagle, eyes clear and sharp and deadly under white feathers, and his back half was lion, ferocious and strong. “I know who you are, wizard. They say Star Swirl the Bearded is a heretic outcast, a fanatic who cares only for magical secrets and nothing for the lives of ponies.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you truly here to speak for them?”

Star Swirl did not shy away from his gaze. “I have a duty to deliver an offer. I care little whether it’s accepted or rejected.”

“I see.” King Blaze swept his claws and the hall itself shifted in obedience, light shining on a great map of the Unicorn Kingdom and the surrounding lands, showing griffon forces massing on their borders. “My armies have subjugated half the world, and carry the eagle-lion standard across far-swept realms. Donkeys. Diamond Dogs. Kirin. Abyssinians. The dragons have fled before me, and even the proud yaks have bent their necks to the yoke. One by one the creatures of the continent have fallen, and now all that stands between me and total rule of Equestria is one little pony, sent to stop the unstoppable.” He looked down at the pony with satisfaction. “Upon my command they will advance, and crush any resistance. The only way to avoid it is surrender. So tell me – what do you have to say?”

“There will be no surrender,” Star Swirl the Bearded said, not looking away from the king’s eyes. “You underestimate us at your peril, Griffon King. Ponies will not roll over, and if you attack you will pay a terrible price.”

“They all said that. And then they found out.”

“They did not have me.” Star Swirl the Bearded stared at the griffon. “I am Star Swirl the Bearded. I have walked with Alicorns. I have faced demons and monsters stronger and more fearsome than you, great king. I have plumbed the deepest parts of Equis, and found secret knowledge beyond your comprehension. I am here today as an emissary, not a warrior. But know this: if you dare to threaten my homeland I will tear Griffonstone down stone by stone.”

King Blaze stared down at him, the tall griffon standing at his full height. Then slowly he began to laugh, and his wings stretched out, the firelight blazing through the feathers. “You think you can frighten me, conjurer? You forget where you are standing.”

He reared up on his hind paws, his claws tipped in steel that burned with the reflected firelight. “I am Griffon King Blaze. I took these fractious tribes that scraped a living from the mountaintops, and built an empire that stretches across the world. You served Nightmare Moon but I fought beside her in battle before you were even born. I too have walked with Alicorns, little pony, and I outlasted them.”

King Blaze looked down his beak at the stallion. “The age of Alicorns is over. The lands of ponies cling to a history of bygone greatness whose weight they cannot bear. The sun and moon are moved by a circle of unicorns like a cart dragged along on a broken wheel. Someday it will grind to a halt.” He shook his head. “Face it, wizard. The old order is dead. Your chance ended when you failed your Princess.”

Star Swirl’s eyes narrowed with deep, cold will. His horn radiated burning magical energy that glowed dark. “Even a king should fear to anger a wizard.”

“Are you threatening me, pony? Shall the war begin right here? Right now?”

“I am ready if it does.”

The Griffon King unclasped his cloak and shrugged it off. It fell to the floor softly, revealing the grizzled body of a warrior underneath. Scars criss-crossed his throat and torso, bright lines cutting through the down and fur.

He put aside the scepter and lifted the crown from his brow, and flexed the steel-tipped claws of his talons.

“Then so be it.”

He spread his wings and lunged forward, and Star Swirl’s horn burned bright with magical power as he galloped forward to meet him.

At this point conjecture ends.

What happened next is a matter of public record.

It began with the earthquake. With a great rumble through the rock, the entire aerie suddenly jerked and shook, throwing every grounded creature off-balance, and immediately raising the alert.

At the same time King Blaze burst out from the very pinnacle of the palace, soaring straight up into the thin freezing air above the aerie like a firework rocket. Guards who were patrolling the skies above the palace when it happened said the King gripped the unicorn in his claws, crushing his throat in a rage, and that the unicorn’s horn burned with charged magic so powerful it hurt their eyes to watch, and blasted the King with magic fire.

The King carried them up into the sky and soon the other griffons lost sight of them, because by then the mountain was exploding. Thick plumes of volcanic ash, black and yellow and sulfurous, poured out from cracks in the rock and filled the sky with choking, blinding smoke. Great gouts of flame shot up from the ground, spouts of magma ran like rivers, and flaming boulders launched through the air like cannonballs, sending every griffon scattering in a mad panic to flee. And above, the piercing war-screech of King Blaze in his rage cut through everything, louder than thunder, louder than death, heard by every creature.

The aerie shook, and every creature within tried to flee in terror. Swarms of griffons flew out from the branched landings, colliding mid-air and sending each other toppling, the air torn by countless discordant wing-beats, while the earthbound captives dashed madly across the rock.

As they fled, lightning struck from the volcanic clouds and with each flash of light they saw in the shadows the great King and the wizard as they tore into each other, claw and bolt. His mighty wings beating, King Blaze clutched the pony in his talons and squeezed, and ripped, until the pony tore free and vanished in a flash of light to reappear a distance away, walking on clouds, blasting the King with magic lightning and balls of arcane fire that ripped through the air and scattered the smoke. Those bolts crashed down on the mountain, and it heaved and roiled.

Again and again they clashed, and tore into each other before breaking apart, while far below them the mountain was ripped to pieces. The great king-tree of Aetite bent and burned and splintered and snapped, torn apart by the forces unleashed on it.

Soon the mountain peak was empty of all life but the two of them as every other living creature had evacuated and watched in awe from a safe distance until the battle was silenced.

In mere minutes the ducal palace and all its priceless treasures, the jewel of the Empire, was utterly destroyed. And Godfrey, the Adamant Claw, the great Duke of Aetite, conqueror of many lands and builder of great things, who had never previously lacked for words or action, fell to the ground and wept for all he had lost.

Finally King Blaze emerged alone from the inferno and landed before the gathered crowd of astonished survivors.

He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his fur and his feathers were scorched and blackened with ash. Dark red blood poured down from a deep gash across his face, and his steel-tipped claws were warped and twisted from the heat. His one good eye burned with rage, and in spite of his wounds he carried himself regally. And all the nobles and warriors who had fled the upheaval looked at him with awe and horror.

Striding forward with heavy steps, and without pausing or calling for anygriff to tend his wounds, he raised a claw and spread his wings for attention.

Then he spoke, and witnesses described his words:

“All of you, hear me! Your king speaks! And let my words be carried across the length of the Empire.” Here he folded his wings and stood to his full height, looking out over the ruins and the survivors. “Let this be known: I… swear… vengeance. From this day forth the full might of the Griffon Empire will be bent towards that wizard’s DEATH. And until the deed is done, and the unicorn’s head hangs on a pike above the gates of Griffonstone, I will not rest, and no griffon will take up arms against any other enemy. This I swear, as KING OF THE GRIFFONS! RAAAAAAAAAWRRRRRR!”











Excerpt from ‘The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded’, by Clover the Clever.

When the dust settled the Griffon Empire’s expansion was halted, and King Blaze swore on his honor that the borders would not expand an inch until the wizard was dead.

Since then the Griffon King has made a sport of finding the world’s deadliest assassins, and sending them to kill Star Swirl the Bearded.

I have witnessed some of these attempts myself, and they were terrifying. But the Professor has always emerged alive, if not unscathed.

When news spread, and ponies wanted to know the state of the conflict, the wizard made no comment, beyond telling the Unicorn King that he had completed his mission. Likewise in Griffonstone, even as the King’s court began their plans to destroy the wizard, King Blaze refused to elaborate on the details, and no griffon dared to gainsay him.

The silence continues to this day. Though the Professor doesn’t like to brag, he is always willing to teach some lesson from his hard-won experience, even ones that most ponies find horrifying. Do not ask me about Slime Pit Maintenance Day. But on this he keeps his lips sealed, and the very idea of the Griffon King seems to enrage him. These two sworn enemies, standing astride Equis from opposite sides, seem destined to be locked in an eternal conflict.

But it wasn’t long before stories began to spread through both countries and beyond, as creatures argued and speculated over what exactly had happened and what it meant.

And with every story told, the legend grew.











“Wait,” Starlight said. “He was mad at Star Swirl, so he swore off expanding the entire empire?”

“It’s part of chivalric tradition,” Twilight said. “King Blaze may seem like a ruthless tyrant to us, but to his griffon subjects he was the epitome of royal honor. That he stood by his word was a measure of his integrity, and swearing to abstain from something precious until he’d had his revenge showed how seriously he took the insult. Some great knights swore never to shave or cut their manes, for instance, until they’d fulfilled their oath. Or even bathe. It was more common back then.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly! ‘Gross’ comes from the old Ponish word for ‘great’, and it’s only in recent times that it’s taken on negative connotations. Some sources call him ‘King Blaze the Gross’, in both meanings of the word.”
> Act Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Long ago.

Clouds lay against the skies like ocean waves, stretched out to the horizon and awash with golden light that burned the eyes of the earthbound.

Star Swirl looked up at it as he crossed the ridge. Powerful winds blew across the sparse grass and moss that clung to life on the rock, and tugged violently at the pony’s robe.

In the distance he saw the king-tree of Aetite.

The heart of the Aetite Duchy was a testament to the reach and ingenuity of the griffons. Following the model of Griffonstone, the aerie was a great winding tree of staggering size made into a city, rising from the top of mountains far above the treeline. Its roots bent down by the shores of a lake, its icy waters fed by the snow-capped peaks, and from which ran the rivers that plunged down the mountains to the plains.

It dominated the country around it, from the long jagged spine of the mountain range to the vast forested valleys and plains below, and from its heights the eagle-eyed griffon could see a thousand miles.

It was the pinnacle and the center of the duchy. And as in Griffonstone the palace of its ruler sat on the cross of its highest branches.

A great round opening at the base of the trunk led into the tree’s hollow interior, a vast open space of staggering height that stretched from the roots to the palace at its crown. Round apertures led out to landings for flight, and let shafts of natural light into it from all sides.

The effect was dizzying. Standing at the bottom and looking up, a creature could go weak in its legs, and feel like it was falling into a strange abyss.

The road through the ground opening led down into the lower levels at the bottom of the hall, in the center of the tree’s ring. Griffons of all stripes filled the air above as they went about their business, many of them armed soldiers, while on the walkways below the earthbound subjects of the empire worked under their watchful eyes.

Above and around him the griffons of the aerie flew by, giving him wide berth, and watching him intently.

“What’s he here to offer? Does he come with treasures for tribute? Pledges of fealty and alliance? Secret intelligence to turn the King’s eye elsewhere? He must have something.”

“He came alone, and brought nothing with him. If he has anything to offer it isn’t here.”

“He’s a great wizard, apparently. Maybe he has a dragon’s hoard under that hat.”

“That’s the great wizard? He looks like a homeless bum!”

“The Unicorn King must be desperate to send him. Did you know he was coming, Grindaxe?”

“Of course I knew he was coming,” the one called Grindaxe replied before taking a sip of her indulgence. “King Titanium’s stooge, here to deliver his surrender.”

“He’s not surrendering.” The third griffon, a young male peregrine and grey forest cat wearing a dress uniform jacket, bright blue with a red sash across the shoulder, scowled at him from behind. “That pony is dangerous. I’ve read about him.”

“Read about ponies? Gouge! Whatever for?” Grindaxe scoffed.

The young officer cawed back sharply. “For the war of course. To earn my honors, and make the King proud. Star Swirl the Bearded is not to be trusted.” He shot the others a sharp look. “Do you know who that is? That’s the one pony who sided with Nightmare Moon.”

At that every head turned.

The Lunar Rebellion. The War of the Two Sisters. When night fought against day and darkness refused to yield the sky, when evil dreams and the shadows that were always with us demanded their due and showed their power – and were defeated.

Everyone had some idea, some image that came vividly to mind of the final battle. Of the dark Princess in her warrior form, accompanied by her Shadowbolts, stalking the halls of the Castle of the Two Sisters, bringing every fear with her where she went.

Star Swirl the Bearded saw it all happen.

And he was there when the smoke cleared, and the castle stood abandoned, and the three tribes were left to their own devices, their questions unanswered. The last gasp of the Old Dominion.

“Nightmare Moon was the only pony who could stand to keep him around.” The young officer’s eyes followed the pony unblinking. “After she fell he was cast out. He spent years wandering in the wilderness while ponies moved on without him. It seems the Unicorn King decided to give him a second chance.”

“A relic of a bygone world,” Grindaxe muttered from behind her goblet. “The lands of ponies were once the greatest power in all of Equis. Wielders of magic without peer, masters of weather and agriculture, even keepers of the very heavens themselves! And all of it ripped apart in a single night – thanks to him.” She chuckled. “Without the royal sisters ponies are a shadow of their former selves. But we griffons can endure anything, adapt to anything, and rise to any challenge. We picked up where the sisters left off, and now the Griffon Kingdom rules the mightiest empire on Equis.” Her grin turned sour and she shook her head. “The world is changing. It would be poetic – in the worst way. That pony has done better service to the Griffon Empire than any other, and now he’s here to plead for the unicorns? It makes no sense.” She cawed at the crudeness of the situation.

On a wide platform in the middle of the ring, flanked by wardens and placed above the workers’ quarters, stood a great statue of a griffon armed and armored, carved from the heartwood where it grew: Duke Godfrey, the Adamant Claw.

Star Swirl the Bearded looked up, and took it all in. To those who watched him it seemed his cold, calculating gaze sought out the highest reaches of the tree, looking past everything else, calculating his path to the peak as though everything else, everything that stood between him and it was of no consequence.

“How did Nightmare Moon ever fall?” A young griffon muttered. “She fought beside King Blaze, and he praised her. She was a great warrior. How could she have been beaten by her sister?”

Gouge watched the pony climb the roots with distrust. “He knows.”

“You do go on. Let me get a… Oh!” An elderly vulture dressed in the finery of nobility bent over to peer down at him, and clasped her talons together. “He looks ferocious. You are all wrong. This is quite fitting.”

“Whatever you say, Countess Gloriel,” Grindaxe muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Kittens and hatchlings, all of you,” the Countess said. “The King will decide the future of Equis here in Aetite: whether it be ruled by the strength of griffons or the airy words of ponies. The Unicorn King knows this, and he has sent his champion.” She grinned. “Think what might happen when these two archons clash?”











Let me tell you a story.

It was in the days when the Griffon Empire was at its height, and Griffon King Blaze decided to conquer the lands of ponies. He invited the unicorn ambassador and spoke to him.

The Griffon King was a well-fed turkey and house-cat blend, and his plumage shone lavishly like his crown. The unicorn ambassador was a ragged old stallion in worn and tattered clothing.

“So, unicorn, you ponies think you will be better off outside my empire? I challenge you to a debate. I can show you greater wonders in my realm than anything you can conceive of, and so you will see how much better off we are. But if you can convince me you are better off without it I will leave you be.”

“Very well, I accept your challenge.”

“I have an army that can conquer the world!”

“In my imagination I can create as many worlds as I need. I think I am the better off.”

“I rule an empire so vast I could eat a delicacy from a different people every night and not have the same for twelve years!”

“No thanks, I only eat my oats. Anything different upsets my stomach.”

“My wings can carry me across the skies, faster and farther than any pony!”

“I have sheets of paper and crayon, I can draw more skies than you could ever fly across.”

“My palace is full of gold that shines like the sun!”

“Does your gold move? I can look in the water at the beach and see it shine like the sun, and dance on top of that.”

“My artificers can build machines that mimic life and thought!”

“I can do tons of tricks with my yo-yo. I call this one ‘parabolic orbit’.”

“I have debated the deep mysteries with the wisest sages and they have praised the depth of my knowledge!”

“I once argued with a rock, and the rock won. I praise that rock more highly than all the most learned of ponies, griffons, and kirin.”

The King turned away. “Curses! This unflappable unicorn underling has an answer for everything. This spurious spellcaster has me bamboozled and befuddled! What can I say to shut him up?”

Star Swirl the Bearded slapped on a large fake beak and mustache. “I know the wizard’s closely guarded secret! He was once roundly beaten and humiliated by a mischievous spirit called Iser Hender. When next you see him ask him about that, and he will surely crack.”

“Aha! Very well!” He turned back to where the wizard stood, having just tucked away the beak and mustache. “Wizard! What would you think if I said Iser Hender?”

“Very well, I accept your surrender.”

“Curses! I am foiled!” King Blaze stomped and screamed so loud and so hard that the ground cracked and the sky was filled with strong winds that knocked his griffons from the heavens, and they never flew again.

And that’s the story of Star Swirl the Bearded and Griffon King Blaze.











“At least we know this version isn’t true, eh, Twilight?”

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Starlight. There was once a panel convened at an academic conference to discuss it. They named this story ‘most credible’ as a compromise when the vote was split between ‘Savory Pumpkin Pie’ and ‘The Notorious Distemper’ and the attendees wouldn’t stop fighting.”

“Truly, ponies never change.”











Long ago.

Star Swirl the Bearded climbed the hall methodically, confidently moving along paths not made for walkers to reach the middle ring, not waiting or asking for assistance. And bit by bit he rose.

It wasn’t long before a griffon seneschal, a spectacled owl and tortoiseshell carrying a heavy book of scheduled events, descended from above to greet him, on behalf of the Duke. She informed him that accommodations were being prepared for him until the Emperor would see him.

His room would be ready shortly. Until then she invited him to explore the aerie. And so it was that more griffons saw the strange pony figure skulking and lurking around the middle tier of the city.

Soon, perhaps drawn by some kind of gravity of knowledge, he looked upon the tree-trunk columns that framed the doors of Aetite Museum, and went inside.

The first thing any visitor to the museum saw was the Heart of the Mountain.

The painting showed an eagle’s nest, the mother feeding her young with wings outstretched, while the chicks reached up and beat their wings for the feast. The nest sat atop the stone walls of a ruined structure with corners long filled with sand and overgrown. The ruin seemed to blend in with the mountainous landscape in the sunlight, and the bones of previous meals picked clean lay fallen in the golden grass.

It was enormous, towering over the observer and filling their vision when they crossed the threshold of the museum. Star Swirl stood there, looking up at it, contemplating it in silence.

“The Heart of the Mountain is beautiful, is it not?”

He turned to glance at the griffon who had interrupted him and nodded, though his face did not suggest he appreciated its beauty. Her back half was lion, like most griffons, but her front was a parrot, emerald green, with darker green eye-shadow and wearing a doctor’s sash. She looked at him with a condescending smirk, though it seemed more made of habit than aimed at him in particular. Crow’s feet marked the corners of her eyes and her beak and face were tense.

“It wouldn’t exist without me, though good luck getting any of them to admit that. I secured the materials. The pigment, the yak-hair brush, the canvas… I suggested the composition as well. It’s true! I said to him, Gustav, have you thought about doing something with sunlight? Something grand? And this was the result. Couldn’t have done it without me, not that I get any gratitude for it from that vulture.” She glanced backwards as though the object of her ire would be there for her to glare at, and when he wasn’t, glared anyway before turning back, her glare put aside and replaced again with the satisfied smirk. “Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. I am Grindaxe, the foremost historian and scholar of griffonkind, in feather and fur. I can see you are enjoying my museum.”

He gave a single nod, though he did not look like he was enjoying it much.

“The finest center of culture and learning in the Empire, dedicated to the study of griffon greatness. My specialty, of course.” She nodded to the painting. “It’s about the griffon spirit, you understand. The spirit of the age.” She drew herself up proudly, a slightly manic grin under her unsmiling eyes. “Do you know what makes us special? In a world of guided creatures, we griffons made our own purpose. Without special magic, without a fair start, without divine guidance we fought for our own and learned to adapt to anything. That is the world we now live in.”

Star Swirl had turned, and was looking down the other wing of the gallery.

Alongside the various works of art on distinctly avian themes were displays of the other creatures that lived in Aetite: mountain goat clothing and climbing tools, diamond dog bangles and collars adorned with gems. Educational signs describing their history with the griffons who, according to the signs, had always lived here. Knives and clawguards. A battered breastplate of leather and bronze with ragged tears where it had been slashed open.

On a stand in a glass display case in a prominent location, surrounded by the weapons and armor, was a leather cap covered all over in what looked like bones. The sign read:

Boar-Tusk helmet of Rover, the Rock Dog King.

	Claimed in battle by Duke Godfrey.

“You’re doing the right thing.”

Star Swirl turned his head slightly and gave her a sideways glance.

“Oh, I’m sure it must be hard for so proud a pony as yourself. But surrender really is the only option. There’s no shame in admitting defeat… Well, maybe a little shame. But your fellow equines will see that it was all for the best. After all, what can they do?”

She rolled her talon in a gesture that said ‘it’s inevitable’.

“And ponies… ponies did admirably, I will grant you. The system worked well for a long time, your magical marks giving you a purpose and a role to play in your civic structure. Charming, really. And so much more convenient than having to test your underlings until you find ones that are worthy – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could spot incompetence just by looking at a griffon’s haunches! I can tell a lot from looking at a good rump but alas, not that. But… Well, that system has rather broken down, hasn’t it?”

Star Swirl said nothing.

Grindaxe chuckled. “Don’t feel bad, you gave it a good effort. You kept the sun and moon moving for years without assistance, we’re all very impressed. But as believers in destiny you must acknowledge that it’s over. Your time in the sun has passed. Griffons will control the movement of the heavens from now on. It’s better that way.”

Still Star Swirl said nothing.

“We have a lot in common, really. King Blaze learned a great deal from watching ponies, and we built on it to create something… greater. The legacy of the Princesses will live on through us.” She looked thoughtful. “When Equestria joins the Empire I will visit the lowlands and see the famous pony cities. I look forward to it. Once my plans win the day, I will surely be magistrate of one of your scholarly cities. Cambridle, perhaps. I have always wanted to visit its famous library. Oh, but that will only be a diversion at that point, for enjoyment’s sake… I studied the past my entire life,” Grindaxe said, gazing up at the painting. “What a waste. It’s time to move into the future. For both of us.”

Grindaxe enjoyed the warmth that emanated from the pony. She smiled.

“Here. Have a souvenir from your trip.” She held out a slim book with the griffon flag on its cover.

Star Swirl took it in his magic and looked at it. It was titled The Rise of the Griffon Empire, volume I, by Grindaxe the Griffon.

It was also signed in thick blue ink, and had a little doodle of a griffon diving towards a rabbit.

“My masterpiece. The Duke himself is sponsoring my print run, naturally he was impressed with my work. Years of effort, finally brought to fruition! Once I cut off the parasites who were holding me back, that is. Treasure it, it’s sure to be the most valuable thing you own someday.”











Let me tell you a story.

One version of the story says that when the wizard first entered the king’s chamber they spoke directly and severely about the situation. Each outlined their goals clearly and established room for negotiation to see if it were possible to find a peaceful solution.

King Blaze was even impressed with the pony, who came armed with a very solid strategy. It is said that he had a real offer to make that would be very compelling to King Blaze, which would be of great benefit to griffons and secure the peace between the ponies and griffons.

Things took a rough turn when King Blaze remarked on the wizard’s beard, saying it reminded him of the shaggy hide of a wild boar he had hunted the week before. At the same time the wizard tripped over his robe and tore down the shelf where the King kept his porcelain figurine collection, which shattered all upon the floor.

From that moment onward battle was inevitable.











Long ago.

Soon Star Swirl was approached again, and told his accommodations were ready. He was given chambers to stay in fit for an ambassador, dark and rich and spacious. There were also spies.

There had to be, for several reasons: the Duke had to feel that he was informed about what happened in his domains. The dignitary had to feel that he was considered important enough to spy on, lest he feel slighted and diplomacy suffer as a result. The spies had to justify their budget by providing results. And the world needed to see when it looked upon Aetite that its rulers soared above the crowd, and that nothing was hidden from their reach.

But they struggled.

“He’s just sitting there,” the first spy said.

“He doesn’t even have a staff,” the second spy muttered. “Or any materials. Is he not even planning to prepare his case? Any sensible ambassador would show up with a cartload of books and papers filled with arguments and historical examples to draw from, and a dozen clerks to command, to present a show of force and order. How can he expect anygriff to take him seriously when he doesn’t have anyone to command? Is he even trying?”

“Is this how ponies do things?”

“No. Have you never been to Equestria? Ponies love to talk, it’s hard to get them to shut up. They love to flock together and surround themselves with others of their own kind, and fill the air with empty noise. Their leaders are worst of all. They talk as though words are talons, or salves. This one is just…” The spy’s face scrunched up in a grimace as he tried to find the right words. “Not a good pony.”

“He’s a lunatic.”

The minutes ticked by in silence.

“Molt this,” the first spy said. “This is a waste of time.”

“We have to report something to the Duke or he’ll have our heads.”

“We could do the Garbo option?”

“…That would work.”

They would, in the end, follow the accepted custom of writing an entirely fictitious report crediting him with lofty and devious schemes appropriate to his station, to spare his dignity. And thus everygriff was pleased.











Excerpt from The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded, by Clover the Clever.

Decades after the event this report was leaked by parties unknown. It is widely considered the closest thing to an official version from the Griffon Empire’s government of the event:

From a report compiled by Griffonstone Intelligence, recovered from (redacted) after the fall of Aetite.

Griffon King Blaze stood tall before the unicorn and they looked at each other, each sizing up the other’s threat. The magpie and white cheetah griffon, speckled white and black, wore a sharp form-fitting black suit and a simple yet elegant platinum band for a crown, and the two of them studied the other as the griffon stalked down the floating stair from his glass throne.

“The Great Wizard, the scourge of Saddle Arabia and the witness of the Two Sisters’ downfall. We meet at last,” King Blaze said. “So you’re the Unicorn King’s errand-colt. I should have suspected he would send you – the wizard who destroys everything he touches. I know your treachery well. But you are too late.”

Hanging in the air all around them in the otherwise dark chamber were scrying screens through which they saw the massing griffon armies across mountains, clouds, and forests, poised to unleash havoc on the unsuspecting towns of peaceful ponies below. The Griffon King’s throne floated in the center, the eye of the storm watching all things.

“The invasion is about to begin. Your fate has already been decided, and you are powerless to stop it.”

Star Swirl chuckled softly, and smiled a knowing, amused smile. “I am afraid not, great king. Your invasion has already been thwarted, and you did not even realize it was happening.”

“You are bluffing,” King Blaze snorted. “My spies have watched you since you first set hoof on this mountain, and you have done nothing.”

“So you thought. But I came here with a secret mission. While your spies thought they were watching me they were only watching a phantasm. I have penetrated your armory and your command center, have seen your plans and your capabilities, and have sent them back through magical means to your enemies.”

Star Swirl swept his cloak to the side and pointed a hoof at the Griffon King. “While you swept across the continent the Unicorn King worked in secret to form an alliance of many nations. Now all the world’s creatures stand united – against you. Your schemes are over, o king. Stand down your forces and surrender your crown, or your downfall is inevitable.”

“You overestimate yourself,” King Blaze said. “My spies saw through your illusory double. They know that while you feigned inaction in your chamber, in reality you were scouting our military facilities in secret – or so you thought. But you played right into our claws.”

Star Swirl’s eyes widened in shock, and King Blaze grinned. “Your secret informant was working for me all along. I know about the portal gem you planted in the yak enclosure, and the weapons cache for the diamond dog rebel litter. And oh yes – the invasion plans you sent back to your allies were false. When the attack comes they will be completely defenseless.”

Star Swirl shook his head in horror. “No, this cannot be! I covered my tracks perfectly, and plumbed the depths of your facility to the last!”

“You are wrong, wizard,” the Griffon King gloated. “For all your cunning and your tricks you failed to uncover the true secret of Aetite before it was too late. Beneath these mountains there is buried magical power beyond reckoning. I have already claimed my prize: the Heart of the Mountain is in my possession.”

A piece of the floor slid open and a plinth rose up from below with a soft humming sound. On top of it rested a pale crystal orb that glowed with unearthly power. King Blaze took it in his claws and held it up.

“Aetite aerie was only a means to an end. For this, I had the Empire conquer these mountains, subjugate its inhabitants, and put them to work in the mines deep within the rock. Now at last the Heart of the Mountain is in my possession, and with it I can power the ultimate weapon of conquest. Behold! The METAL GRIFF!”

The scrying screens blinked out of existence and were replaced by a single giant image that loomed over them from behind the throne. It showed a dark metal chamber, within which stood a single enormous entity, a giant griffon of black steel and mithril that radiated unstoppable power.

“With this, I will lead my armies into battle, and I will destroy all who dare oppose me! What I have set in motion cannot be undone, and you come only to witness your tribe’s downfall!”

It looked down on them from far above, its sharp beak locked in a permanent frown, its eyes of black quartz glowing with inner fire as it came to life. It spread its massive metal wings, every feather a giant blade, and let out a shriek that shook the hall.

King Blaze’s grin of triumph faded into irritation as Star Swirl stood unmoved, and clapped his hooves.

“An impressive toy, King,” Star Swirl said without fear. “But your spies are no match for my genius. I knew they were watching, and that the invasion plans were false. That is why in addition to the double in my chambers I created an illusory triple for them to chase like cats following a red dot! And while they were chasing down false leads and blind to my true whereabouts I infiltrated your top-secret research laboratory in the mithril mines beneath the mountain disguised as Professor Gravitas, and sabotaged your secret weapon!”

“What?!” King Blaze roared, raring up on his hind legs. “Impossible!”

“Not only possible – history,” Star Swirl said with complete satisfaction. “And now that you have revealed the Heart of the Mountain, the last remaining piece of the puzzle, I can detonate the arcane bomb and destroy Metal Griff, forever!”

With a flourish and a flash of light Star Swirl cast the spell, and the secret underground hangar erupted in flames as the whole aerie shook.

Griffons screamed and alarm sirens blared. King Blaze looked around in shock as the ground beneath them was rocked by explosions, and he turned to the pony with burning rage in his eye. “Why would you do this?” the King demanded. “I know who you are, wizard. Nightmare Moon’s henchpony cares nothing for the lives of others. So why do you want to stop me?”

“You are correct. I care nothing for ponies, and it means nothing to me whether the Griffon Empire conquers the world or not. The downfall of your petty schemes is only this: that once I have committed myself to a task I will never stop until it is completed to the best of my ability – my brilliant intellect demands no less.” He took a battle stance, spreading his hooves and lowering his horn. “Now come, and let us see who is the greatest warrior of the two of us!”

“GrrrrRRRRAAAAAAAHH!” King Blaze roared in fury as fire grew around them. “You may have destroyed my plans, wizard, but I will still have your head as my trophy! I will never rest until you are dead!”











“Twilight, are you… Are you sure these are the same creatures?”

“Well, it’s a little unclear,” Twilight admitted. “Many of these figures took on legendary stature over time, which makes it hard to separate historical fact from embellishment. King Blaze was already considered the timeless, ideal image of a griffon king in Star Swirl’s day, and it’s possible his name was just stuck in at pivotal historical moments for literary purposes. It’s hard to say for sure which griffon king Star Swirl even met, if he really did meet King Blaze or if maybe several different griffons were replaced with the legends after the fact. Honestly we’re not entirely sure when the early griffon kings were even supposed to have lived, the time-span is all over the place.”

“What is it the Foal Free Press says? Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.”
> Act Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Excerpt from The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded, by Clover the Clever.

The Feylight Wood Expedition.

I looked around, amazed, as we went deeper into the forest. Even in midwinter the trees were in full bloom, and the frosty grass crunched under our hooves.

I was accompanying my teacher on a research expedition, and I had only the vaguest notion of what he hoped or expected to find at the end. Star Swirl the Bearded rarely saw the point in telling me these things before the fact: we would either find it, and I would see for myself, or we wouldn’t, and the effort of description would be wasted.

This was just one of the Professor’s many annoying habits and I was steadily working to break him out of it. But when we found our goal it was always worth it.

Well, most of the time it was worth it. Sometimes the results were underwhelming, like the week we spent chasing Mimic Grass, fake grass that looks and feels exactly like real grass but is fake, and the Professor counted that one as a complete success. But sometimes there was something truly astounding.

Like the Feylight Wood. This forest, hidden away far from any pony habitation in the distant corners of Equestria, whose tall thin trees that drew not water through their roots but magical energies that it used to grow its leaves. Every morning the branches grew tiny bulbs that glittered like frosted crystals, that opened and spread in the sunlight, growing glass-like silver petals for leaves. They glowed softly in the dark as they evaporated into pale light at night instead of falling, only to grow again over the course of the next day.

We walked all day and night through the wood and I saw the entire cycle, ending with the brilliant motes of light rising into the sky all around us like…

Even now all these years later I struggle to find the words. But it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The Professor was in his element there, almost blending in with the scenery to a preternatural degree, scaling rocks and pushing through undergrowth more quickly and easily than he navigated the city streets of Cambridle.

At one point after I dragged myself up a rock behind him. I said, “You make that seem so easy.” He said, “Making things seem easy takes a lot of hard work.” Then he kept going.

But he was not focused on the trees, beautiful as they were. He was looking for something else, and eventually we found a crack in the rocky terrain that led into a cave, and pushed inside.

The inside of the cave was dark, and clammy, and smelly, and cramped and unpleasant. It was not an exciting adventure cave, but an uneven crack that just kept going downwards, and if I had been alone I don’t think I would have gone down it because I didn’t think I would be able to find my way back up. But in the end the cave opened up into a larger passage which led to a steep drop into a great hollow.

We climbed down without a sound. There was a tiny feeble light at the very bottom. Even weak as it was I could see it clearly in the darkness, and I heard a sound like a sad song in the air, sung by a voice that didn’t sound like any creature I heard, in a language I couldn’t recognize.

I whispered, “What is it?”

“The Oracle of the Breezies,” he replied. “She is dying.”

I could see her, then: this tiny, frail pony-like creature, whose wings must once have been huge and shimmering on her frame but were then only ragged shreds on her back, a long tail like a silken robe trailing out behind her. She lay sprawled out on the rock, as though her little legs were too weak to let her sit up properly.

Her eyes were milky and blind, but she turned to face us and I knew that somehow she knew we were there. There, to bear witness for her, in her last moments.

“Dying?” I mouthed the word. It was a pointless thing to say. But it would feel disrespectful not to say anything.

She looked so impossibly weak lying there. One of her tiny fluffy antenna shifted and waved while the other lay flat against her head, as though she was beckoning us close, needing to tell us what she knew before her time was up, knowing there was too much, and not enough time.

“She cannot return to her home, because oracles have no home,” Star Swirl said. He stepped closer to her with gentle steps, careful even not to breathe in her direction, and nodded for me to follow. There was a deepness in his eyes, like he was seeing her entire life. “When she dies what remains of her will rise up, like the leaves, and she will become a little star.”

“Oh… I… wow.” I looked at her for a few seconds, unable to find words. “So, why is she down here?”

“Why indeed.”

That is when the ground under us exploded, and everything turned upside-down. There was a sickening sound from all around us, but I couldn’t see what it was because Star Swirl had already cast a spell that sent me flying through the air like a rubber band snapped from a pencil.

I screamed until the rock wall knocked the air out of me. I scrambled up as quick as I could and found myself back up on the edge we had climbed down before, looking down at the Professor, and I saw what the sickening sound that filled the cave was.

An eruption of thick black slime covered the ground, and tendrils of it had snapped out to grab hold of my teacher, around his legs and his barrel, to drag him down.

I could only stare. Looking into the ooze I saw the shapes of ponies and other creatures who had fallen into the ooze and were trapped there until they had become part of it. Things that should have been left in the peace of the grave but were either brought back to life or used as puppets by whatever force lived inside the black ooze, a twisted parody of life. They clung to the Professor, dragging him down to join them.

On her stump of rock that still stood out from the rising ooze the oracle of the breezies sang, and it sounded like she was apologizing to him.

That’s when I saw the creature in the shadows up in another branch of the cave right across from me, a thing with too many legs that slouched and laughed and mocked. Its voice sounded wrong somehow, like it had lost its own long ago and stolen someone else’s, and it didn’t fit.

It said: “Struggle all you like. The Living Family loves you no matter what. The Griffon King sends his regards.”

The Professor was channeling a spell to hold them back, his horn glowing brightly with his aura under the brim of his hat, in light and dark shades of gray like thin clouds racing past a full moon.

But whatever he was doing didn’t seem to be working. It tried to drag him down, and he stayed standing. But he was transforming before my eyes even as he clearly tried to resist.

As I watched his healthy limbs roiled with dark magic like it was being drawn out from his core, his body shriveling up into little more than dry skin and bones, half-crumbled to dust. And his face was suddenly cold and monstrous, full of rage.

It happened so fast it almost seemed to come naturally. Like the black rot was already inside him, and his living self was the illusion, easily ripped away.

The thing in the cave kept rising, and bit by bit he vanished into the darkness before my eyes. His horn kept glowing, and I could see it below the surface before it faded. It swallowed him up, and he was gone.

I stared down in horror and disbelief, dumbstruck.

“I did not think it would be that easy,” the voice in the shadow said.

The ooze went placid, the entity seeming finished with subduing its target, and returned to waiting for more prey.

It felt like an eternity before it started moving again, though it was probably only ten seconds. The surface rippled, like a calm ocean noticing a storm far away. Then the storm got closer, and before long it whipped and lashed violently at nothing.

Suddenly there was a burst of blinding light, and for a fraction of a second the oracle’s song was as loud as a mountain splitting open, and as joyful as the spring. The glittering jewels of the Feylight seemed to come down all around us, and the ooze was forced back.

Suddenly Star Swirl was there, looking like himself again, and he turned his horn towards our attacker. And maybe for the first time, that thing that had been in darkness for its entire life was bathed in light, and it screamed.

There was a crack of shattering rock, and a deep rumbling, and the air was suddenly full of thick dust. The Professor swept up past me as though he had wings, grabbing me in his magic on the way, and he pulled me along behind him while the cave collapsed all around us, until I was unceremoniously dropped on my back on the frozen grass, hacking and coughing.

Star Swirl wasn’t looking at me. He held an orb of magic force, and inside it he held the oracle, whose tiny body looked broken and dead. Her eyes were closed, and I didn’t see her breathing.

He placed her down on a low branch of a tree, and he began to sing, quietly, in her language. And as I watched she began to glow, like the leaves.

We watched as she turned into light, and took her last flight, rising up into the early morning twilight with the glittering leaves of the Feylight Wood.

We watched them in silence as the cycle completed, until the lights had all been carried away and the trees were ready to begin again. Then Star Swirl turned away.

“It’s done. Come, Clover. We’re going home.”

I nodded, and followed after him. Above us the last of the leaves were fading from sight, as the morning sky began to brighten.











Long ago, in Aetite.

On the morning of the second day young Lieutenant Gouge rose with the sun and greeted the cold mountain air. His blue dress jacket was pressed sharply, and his red sash was crisp and bright as blood across his chest.

He had not slept as well as he liked. He had been pondering things, long into the night, trying to puzzle out the meaning behind the Unicorn King’s gambit. But in the end he had settled upon his next step.

He spread his wings and took to the air, flying towards the king-tree. And once there he made a beeline for the pony ambassador’s rooms.

He knocked, and greeted the ambassador when the pony answered. And he invited him to observe the griffon army in their training.

Star Swirl the Bearded went with him.

The training grounds was outside the aerie, a large encampment on the mountain plateau in the miles-long shadow of the king-tree. They walked there together in the early morning light, frost on the sparse grass, and Star Swirl’s robe clung to his legs, the bells ringing in the sharp winds. The young lieutenant led him to their seats, at a raised tribune before the jousting grounds, as though they were going to a sporting event.

They took their seats and waited, watching as the griffons filled the field and made preparations for the exercises.

“Talonguard Battalion,” the young officer said with pride as the warriors formed ranks. “The finest fighting force on Equis. They have made many conquests, and won many tributes to the Empire. Every day more griffons flock to join them under the Duke’s banner.”

Star Swirl watched a yak walking, slowly and heavily, dragging a large cart filled with weapons. Thick chains ran from the yoke to the cart, and others ran between its legs, front and back.

“Our newest subjects,” the officer said, following Star Swirl’s eyes. “Strong, fit, well-adapted to life in the mountains. They will do great service for the Empire.”

Star Swirl’s face remained neutral but he leaned forward in his seat and watched the exercises with careful attention.

A company of griffons ran through their training drills, marching in formation and turning in place at their captain’s command. Flying archers leapt up like fish from the water, letting loose arrows at the height of their arc that left their targets perforated before diving again into cover. At an unseen signal half the company formed a defensive wall while the other half took to the skies, and spears rained down on the shields below. The weapons were blunt and padded for practice, but the force behind them was very real.

The soldiers paired off to train in one-on-one combat, both armed and unarmed. They wrestled, grappling and twisting, throwing and pinning, and all eyes were turned to the two largest griffons in the company: one an eagle and lion, the other a condor and tiger. They slammed into each other with such strength the onlookers shook as though they felt the blows themselves.

“Our finest warriors,” the young officer said. “The Duke has recruited the greatest griffons of all the Peaks to join his battalion. This is the company that took Yakyakistan.”

Star Swirl nodded, but said nothing as he watched the duel unfold.

The two griffons circled each other in the sandy ring, searching for openings. Until all at once, like the crack of a whip, they lunged. Their claws clung together in a fierce contest of raw strength while their hindlegs both fought for purchase and balance, each trying to throw the other off.

Suddenly one fell backwards – the other slammed down to pin him but he slid out with lightning speed, flipped up on all fours, and pounced. The eagle screeched, and twisted as the condor struck him from the side, they both jerked a few steps to find their footing, and a claw gripped the condor by the throat.

The eagle screeched again as he pulled the condor down. A beat of wings, and the condor was slammed on his back and pinned.

The air was filled with the triumphant cry of birds of prey showing their appreciation. The condor tapped out, and the claw released. He stood up, they bowed to each other, and stepped apart.

Star Swirl said nothing.

A regimental drumbeat played, and all the griffons sprang into action. A great fence was rolled onto the center of the field, painted to represent a sheer rock face, and warded with wooden poles as spikes. In the air griffons beat their wings and gathered condensation to form clouds, like pegasi, above the field. And at the edge of the field the griffons brought up cannons.

At the captain’s signal the cannon crew began to move. They pulled the massive weapons forward against strong winds, created by griffons on the clouds above, at remarkable speed. In mere seconds they had crossed half the field and reached the great wall.

The griffons above pelted them with projectiles. Without hesitation a part of those below raised shields to deflect them and protect their brethren, while the others began to disassemble the cannons into smaller parts, removing the wheels, the barrel, the frame.

That done they began to move again. With forceful bounds the cannon crew scaled the wall, and with practiced ease the massive cannons were transported piece by piece up the simulated rock face, under fire, and reassembled on top in a matter of seconds.

The cannons turned and simulated fire on the cloud-borne attackers, who scattered. The shield-bearers swiftly broke the headwinds and cleared the air of moisture, revealing targets in the distance shaped like ponies.

The cannons were loaded, aimed, and fired live rounds that destroyed the targets from five hundred yards.

The entire operation had taken less than a minute.

One of the targets was a black-painted alicorn.

Star Swirl watched without blinking as it was blown to bits, his face as though carved of stone.











Minutes of the meeting between Griffon King Blaze and the pony Star Swirl the Bearded, transcribed by Griffus Publius Gossipus.

“King Blaze, I have come to discuss the worrying signs of war between our countries, and try to find a peaceful solution. But before we begin there is something I must say. I have been observing your aerie closely and I must warn you that you tread upon unsteady ground.”

“Hah! Lies and boasts from the easily defeated. You will not scare me so easily, pony – the Empire will not be stopped.”

The pony adjusted his spectacles and consulted his chalk tablet. “According to my calculations you built your palace on top of a volcano that’s about to erupt.”

“What of it?” Blaze, wearing his tallest and pointiest crown for extra majesty, puffed himself up. “Weak-willed and easily cowed creatures are always afraid of the future. Not so I! We will stay the course!”

“You’ve also filled the treasure vaults with unstable charged magic crystals you looted from Qirina. Those should really be kept individually sealed in mithril frames, and you’ve just poured them out in a huge pile.”

“Of course. What is even the point of having a wealth of crystals if you can’t pour them in a pile?”

“It’s adding to a volatile nexus of geological forces in this mountain that might rip right open anytime. You need to secure it before it’s too late.”

“Not a problem. I will find the biggest rock around and make an example of it. That will make the other rocks think twice about crossing me.”’

“I also understand that you recently brought in a passel of yak forced laborers…”

“We have great plans for them. There are so many things we can smash.”

“You put them right next to the aerie’s main structural support column.”

“We didn’t have room for them anywhere else. You can hardly hear them over the Diamond Dogs and Abyssinians. Anyway, the roots are good enough.”

“The roots are drilling through the rock and making it worse! I have identified seventeen points of structural instability up and down the tree that can bring the whole edifice crashing down. You need to fix this.”

“Nonsense. Fixing things is for chumps, it only gives them ideas. We will handle this the griffon way: Anyone who complains gets a stick upside the head. That is how I made the Griffon Empire the strongest land in Equis.”

“The griffons downstairs are screaming. All the water smells of sulfur.”

“Minor trifles.”

Star Swirl looked down. “The floor is getting hot. I think the tree is on fire.”

“No it isn’t,” King Blaze said, flapping his wings to hover.

The columns holding the ceiling creaked. The wall cracked with a loud snap and green gas piped out with a loud Psshhh.

King Blaze snorted and glared at it. “This brick wall thinks it can defy me? It has met its match. I’ll have you know that all my courtiers say that talking to me is like talking to a brick wall.”

There was a series of loud pops, and a sharp whistling sound began to whine from the floor.

Star Swirl shook his head. “Your majesty, even the land you control is collapsing. At this point the invasion is the least of my worries.”

“Nonsense. I shall fix this with my bold decisiveness. Clearly what’s needed is more territory to support the territory we already have. We must expand the aerie northwards!”

“You mean into the lake?”

“The lake has defied my architectural vision! It must be put in its place!”

The high-pitched whining got higher and higher, stinging their ears until it passed beyond the audible spectrum, and suddenly everything was silent.

“Look out!” Star Swirl hurled himself at the king and raised a shield in a bubble around them with all his might just as the explosion hit, and catapulted them both through the ceiling and up into the air above the palace.

Within the shield-bubble as they flew, King Blaze scowled. “This is your fault, you alarmist.”











Long ago.

After the drills the camp returned to its business and the observers were sent away. Lieutenant Gouge returned the pony to the aerie, and brought him to the Hunting Lodge.

The Hunting Lodge was the soldiers’ watering hole of choice, and the large bar was full of them, loud griffons spread across a grand hall of rough wooden make and walls hung with trophies. Large tables and large barrels of hard cider and other hard drinks filled the tavern. Everywhere they looked griffons were laughing, playing games of chance, and sinking drinking songs as they drank.

A musician, a lean griffon plucking a string instrument, sang a tale as he walked down the length and breadth of the hall: the hunt of the Arimaspian Boar.

“Like a river beneath the earth rushes ceaselessly, and what falls in its grasp has no hope of escape, so the king’s company moved through the forest under the rain-dripped leaves in search of its prey,” he began, playing a lively melody between the words that pleased the crowd.

“And while rain in the leaves

	Is a blessing to thieves

	The King cried ‘let it blast!’

	So the horn sounded clear

	And the beast in its lair

	Knew at once that its doom came on fast.”

“King Blaze leads by example,” Gouge said. “That is how he built the Empire. He knew that a griffon king should value accomplishment, not empty talk. You ponies enjoy speeches – I have read your king’s – but griffons laugh at empty blather.” He glanced sideways and looked over the pony. “When Blaze speaks, his words are like spears and hammers, not to be ignored. When he swears an oath, it is done. When he sets his mind, no force on Equis can change it. Blaze ennobled his warriors, gave them wealth and power and made them the envy of all, and showed all griffons that great deeds would be honored with great rewards.”

Captain Gouge ordered a cup of applejack, and a mug of cider for the pony, and took him to a table.

“Because of his vision the Griffon Empire covers a fifth of Equis and grows every day,” the captain continued while all around them griffons caroused. “Griffon warriors are stronger than any other creature, while Griffon nobles long to prove their mettle in battle and win greatness and glory. As long as there are new lands to conquer Griffonkind will only grow greater.”

The song finished, to stomping and shouts. The next song began, and from the first few notes plucked on the strings something was different. The raucous singing and laughing fell silent, and the griffons listened.

The player’s voice shifted, and when a moment before it had been cheerful and vigorous and full of laughter, now it was haunting and strange, though still loud and clear, as he began to sing of dragonfire.

Fire, that made the great forests a funeral pyre for every creature that sheltered within. Fire, that burned the land and made every river and lake run dry. Fire, that blackened the sky and blotted out the sun and made the air itself into poison.

Into this fire arose young Blaze, the strong, the fierce, the bold, head of a clan of griffons, one of the uncountable many of the Restless Peaks.

The player sang of the hunt. As a young warrior Blaze proved himself in the deep woods, and brought home many trophies to line his hall. As a raider he led attacks on rival tribes, and as a leader he defended against retaliation, clinging to his scrap of land on the mountainside against all challengers, holding his own in a time when small clans like his were easy prey. He was a good chief, but the ravines are full of the bones of good chiefs, picked clean by buzzards and rats.

The griffons listened as he raised the mountain winds in their feathers, the sunlight, the strength of youth and the triumphs and sorrows of pillagers and raids, of victories and defeats, of feasts at night when tomorrow was forgotten.

Then came Belekos, and brought the fire with him.

The hearthfire seemed to fall cold, and the lodge grew dark around them as the player conjured the ghost of an ancient pain.

Belekos. A dragon who would not slumber in a mountain, because he was the mountain. A dragon whose wings could envelop the sky itself, and whose fire could kill stars.

A dragon whose voice was command, and all other dragons were swept away beneath it, powerless to defy him even in their hearts. Whose mind was death and madness, that sought to cover the whole world until all was silence and ashes.

They called him the Jagged King. And the time was called the Day of the Dragons, and none knew if it would ever end.

All over the world creatures fell to the dragons’ fire. Creatures fled their homes. The survivors buried themselves in the earth and pleaded with the heavens for respite. And the black smoke covered the sky as fast as a dragon could fly.

Chaos and confusion reigned. The sun and the moon could not be seen. Dragon’s smoke defied any flying creature and forced them to ground. Crops would not grow, and even unicorn magic faded without starlight and hope.

Then she came to the mountains, tired and hungry, bearing news and seeking aid. From the lands of ponies she came, fleeing the cataclysm.

When the danger came they set off like courier pigeons bearing dire tidings, beating their wings through the night to escape the swift and hungry hawk, searching for friendly eyes to deliver their words. They had traveled far, and were weary and full of doubt, but though she was at her lowest point she would not yield.

The dark mare, wreathed in shadows of night and magic, accompanied by her knights, came to the Restless Peaks, and met Blaze.

She spoke with him through the night, and the young warrior listened to her words. She spoke of the dragonfire that swept across the land, that had covered the lands of ponies and scattered them to the winds and driven them underground, and that would soon come to the mountains.

They spoke long together, and shared stories of the world. He questioned her, and she spoke harshly and wisely; she questioned him, and he was not doubtful or unsure, but stared down peril and did not fear death.

It is said that Nightmare Moon looked into Blaze’s future, that night, and saw his destiny.

And he swore an oath there, in the shadows beneath the dark clouds, to stand against whatever would come.

So it was that when the dragonfire came to the Restless Peaks, when the divided clans scattered and broke beneath their assault, it was the warrior chief Blaze and his tribe who held their ground, and fought beside Nightmare Moon and her Shadowbolts, and stood defiant against the dragons.

The player’s voice brought to life the battle that followed in the minds of every creature listening. The choking black smoke that filled their lungs. The rumble of the dragon’s roar that made the earth tremble, the sight of great scaled wings beating in the skies. The struggle to remain standing behind shields of magic and hide while your brothers and sisters fell beside you.

On that day all of Equis hung in the balance, held in the talons of one griffon and his followers, a wall standing between the dragons and a defenseless world, when the sky writhed in pain and the mountain glowed red, and all the world wondered and held its breath.

And when his armies ground to a halt and that titan who soared above the earth showed himself on the battlefield it was Blaze and the dark mare who stood against him and taught him how it feels to be cut.

The earth shook, a single great crack of thunder as the dragon crashed down below the mountains. And so it was that on the summits and the deep valley of the Restless Peaks, the world watched King Blaze deliver to Belekos the first defeat the Jagged King had ever known.

As the song drew to its end all the griffons returned to their drinking and their games, though a thunderous stomping of tankards on tables showed their approval.

Gouge smiled, his heart soaring with courage and fire, lost in thoughts of heroism and adventure. But he was given pause when he glanced down at the pony beside him. The pony stared into the distance as though looking at a ghost. As though the hall held something only he could see, and all else was only illusion.

His face, though unmoving, seemed dangerous to approach. Like a dark fire that could not be seen with the eyes had smoldered up into life beneath the surface of him, and coming too close to it would consume you.











Let me tell you a story.

The creature crept around the corners of the den, barely visible. It went from shadow to shadow in soft, soundless movements, searching up and down for its feed.

Then with a sudden violence it was pinned on a skewer and dragged out into the lamplight, squealing and wriggling, and the griffon hen gasped in horror. “That’s no rat!”

“Indeed not,” Star Swirl the Bearded said, turning the skewer to examine the thing he had caught. It was made of darkness and wet, shapeless matter, and it opened a foul maw to snap at its captor as it tried to tear itself free, glistening with corruption. “And you say you have seen more of these?”

“I hear them slink around most nights! Has that thing been gnawing in my pantry?”

“It is worse than that. This thing does not eat grains or meat, but light and joy itself. I have seen many like it before.”

The unicorn’s horn came to life and glowed with bright golden magic, and the creature writhed and wailed as it burned into nothingness.

“If these things are spreading through the city we are all in terrible dangers… I must purge this corruption at the source.” He turned and looked upwards, and having found his objective he set out.

The hall was bleak, colorless, thick with dust and shadows. Star Swirl the Bearded strode into it, light streaming in from the open doorway behind him, and it slid shut with a creak and a slam.

“Star Swirl the Bearded. Welcome to my home,” said the Griffon King, in a voice that was as dry and haggard as it was pleased. “I have longed to speak with you, a creature who understands magic almost as well as I do. Who knows the hunger for knowledge.”

Star Swirl the Bearded came to a halt in the darkness and stood there, ears perked, glancing warily around him until his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Then he saw it.

Pressed against the far wall, splayed out unnaturally, legs and wings at odd angles, the Griffon King was a huge gray-black figure in the darkness. He was crow and panther, and deep shadows dripped from him like thick liquid onto the floor, seeping into the soil and corrupting it.

“You’re being consumed by dark magic, griffon king. It will kill you.” Star Swirl raised a hoof to his heart in horror. “What monstrous force did you seek out for this, this blasphemy?”

“The Black Bird of Death, who nests in the bone orchard of Tartarus, haunted my dreams,” King Blaze said. “She showed me a vision, the same one every night. A path lay before me, into the deepest caverns leading down to dark, forgotten temples, and ancient, hungry spirits. I scoured Equis to find the gateway it had shown me… the door that would lead me to my destiny. And it has.”

“There is no power in darkness, griffon king. Only madness!”

“It has made me stronger than ever before!” Griffon King Blaze reared up on his hindlegs and reached up with his long, skeletal claws, and his wings stretched out until the shadows enveloped them both. The doorway behind Star Swirl vanished in the void, and there was nothing in the hall but the two of them. “I thought that you, of all creatures, would understand… You too quest for knowledge, wizard. You know the allure of forbidden secrets. Dark. Light. Lies, both! With this power the Griffon Empire will cover all the world! For that, the price I paid was as nothing.”

“Then you are a fool,” Star Swirl said firmly. He stomped his hoof on the stone floor and it made a sound like thunder. “No price is worth this, King Blaze! You have sold your spirit to darkness, and it will destroy everything it touches. It tempts you with what your heart most desires, but it lies.” He shook his head. “King Titanium was wise to send me. This is not the first time I have faced dark magic.”

Star Swirl charged his horn with blinding white magic, that grew stronger and stronger until the entire hall glowed like the sun. The thick oily shadows burned in putrid smoke and King Blaze screamed as the corruption was purged from his soul. “No! NO! My power!”

“It was never yours, King Blaze,” Star Swirl said. “Dark magic knows exactly how to deceive you. It inveigles itself in your mind, learns your darkest desires, and promises you everything you could dream for. But once it takes hold of you it does not serve, but commands you forever.”

King Blaze growled, clawing himself up as the darkness drew back. “This is not over, little pony! I will tear your throat out and reclaim my power! Nopony defies the Griffon King!”

“So be it,” Star Swirl said, raising his defenses as the griffon king attacked, and the battle that shook the mountain commenced.











“This story annoys me in ways that I find very annoying,” Twilight Sparkle said. “It’s not wrong about dark magic. But it is historically inaccurate.”

“Also deeply tribeist.”

“Yes. That goes without saying.”











Long ago.

In the evening of the second day a messenger came to the ambassador’s room. The griffon was young and uncertain, and stammered through his message, that the pony was eagerly desired to attend a feast in the residence of Countess Gloriel.

The Countess lived in the center of Aetite, her nest a great round complex in a hollowed knot of the heartwood. Great banners in bright colors out front showed griffons gaily dancing and drinking, pining and entwining, marking the place as the heart of Aetite hospitality. Even from outside the sound of music and loud conversation made it impossible to miss.

Star Swirl the Bearded arrived at precisely the appointed hour, and rapped on the door. An old and pompous servant verified his invitation, deftly acting that he did not know the only pony in Aetite, and let him in. He was ushered through the gate, and he stepped into the Countess’s parlor.

The chamber was all loud noise and loud sights, reflective surfaces and chandelier-light, and tall griffons wearing their finest dress and heaviest jewelry as camouflage, for the better to hunt their prey. 

Star Swirl the Bearded passed them stiffly, and their heads turned to watch him as he went.

“The pony! How delightful! I don’t think any of us expected you to make an appearance,” Countess Gloriel said lightly. “I am grateful that you found the time away from your heavy duties.”

The Countess herself was an older griffon, vulture and sphinx, in a golden dress with a pearl necklace and golden bangles. She welcomed her guest with every show of delight at his presence.

Soon the griffons made for the tables, as the feast was about to be served. Star Swirl the Bearded was seated at the Countess’s own table, alongside her circle of acquaintances.

All eyes were on him as he took his seat. A musician sang a formation hymn, accompanied by a drumbeat that mimicked the steady flapping of wings, and the dive.

“We have already met,” lieutenant Gouge said coolly when a griffon moved to introduce them.

“As have we,” Grindaxe chimed in, delighted at the smolder in Gouge’s eyes. “We had a wonderful talk last night.”

On the wall behind Gloriel hung three paintings. The first was a portrait of an idealized griffon clearly meant to represent King Blaze himself, the very image of lion’s strength mixed with winged eagle’s might. Beside him was a portrait of Duke Godfrey, made in much the same idiom, and between them was a grand painted map of the Empire, its seventeen provinces clearly outlined, with Aetite prominent to the north.

“How does it suit you?” one young cockerel asked gaily. “This palace is filled with the flower of the griffon nobility, sir wizard.”

The pony said nothing, but tensed slightly.

“Careful,” Gouge said, brushing a wing against the cockerel. “That pony is fearsome. Whoever crosses him is likely to turn into a mist of magic dust.”

Grindaxe laughed. “Why Gouge, you almost sound frightened! Surely no pony poses a threat to the mighty officer of the Talonguard.”

“He does. However, there is only one of him.” Lieutenant Gouge watched the pony warily, his claws sharp at his sides. “The Talonguard’s full numbers are mustered, the positions are taken. It is flexing its wings, only waiting for the call to sound. Whatever it is you’re going to say to King Blaze, master wizard, you should hope it works.”

“Simple Gouge, your sincerity is endearing,” Grindaxe said with a smirk. “It’s myopic of you to hold out hope for a fight.”

“My eyes are very sharp.”

“Myopic in spirit, my dear. The quill is sharper than the claw. Ponies will see reason and join us peacefully, to fly to a brighter future. The Empire will grow even greater for it, and I mean to celebrate our triumph. I am fortunate that I will get to see it from a cloud-perch, and you will all get to read it from my vantage.” She let out a birdlike cry of anticipation. “Imagine what griffonkind can accomplish, with unicorn magic and earth pony strength in our arsenal! And pegasi will supplement our mastery of the air nicely. They are good at weather control, supposedly.”

“They are,” Gouge replied. He cast a glance at Star Swirl, who was looking back at him. “But we are not afraid of bad weather.”

“Please be at ease, ambassador, and enjoy your stay. We are all friends here,” Countess Gloriel said.

She plucked a piece of roast boar elegantly in her claws and stripped it by its fibers. “There is much to be proud of in Aetite. Only look at the wealth around you I am fortunate enough to enjoy, to see what griffons can do.”

It was true: Gloriel’s parlor was part art gallery, part treasure hoard, with gold and jewels left wherever they would fit around the walls. Star Swirl glanced over them briefly, but his eyes settled on something else.

Standing on a shelf among a clutter of hoarded and neglected trinkets was a figurine of Grogar. It was carved out of wood and painted blue. His horns were lead, long and curved and sharp, and his eyes were harsh.

The Countess followed his gaze and beamed. “Ah, the goat icon is an interesting piece is it not? It’s a deity of some sort – one of their primitive superstitions, they all look hideous really. It was in the tribute they gave to my nephew, and he gave it to me.”

Star Swirl picked it up and turned it this way and that as though searching for something, until he spotted it, then held it still.

“You’re familiar with these?” the Countess asked, pecking at her meal. “Yes, there’s writing on it. I didn’t notice for years. I had a scribe look at it. It’s some sort of goat blessing.”

Star Swirl looked at the carved runic script. It said ‘May his eyes always be on you, and may you get what you deserve’.

Star Swirl nodded and put it down facing the wall.

“A toast,” Grindaxe said, raising her goblet. “To his majesty King Blaze, to whom Aetite owes all its good fortune, and to the Duke.”

The other griffons echoed the toast.

“My nephew,” Countess Gloriel said with satisfaction, tilting her goblet to the portrait of the Duke. “The griffon who built Aetite, to whom we owe all this splendor, and who invited his old auntie to live here and host parties for him.”

Star Swirl sat still and cast a sideways glance, and the gesture made her laugh, and shake her head. “Perhaps you think that this was not a land worth developing. You wouldn’t be alone. But everything changes. This mountain was once a dragon outpost, you know. After they left this mountain was tilled by donkeys and goats, and run through with diamond dog jewel mines. A neglected backwater. But the creatures who lived here were proud, and brave. When the griffons came they laughed, and told us in very colorful terms what they thought of us. And they dug in.” She took a sip of her wine and put down the goblet. “Godfrey, the Adamant Claw, ripped them out of their holes like mice and brought them to heel.”

Star Swirl sat listening, motionless, and all the other griffons receded.

“Griffon knights never shy from a challenge. Counts and barons clamored to lead the campaign, and dueled each other for the chance. Thane Godfrey took the lead, and when the battle came for the diamond dogs he leashed them and tamed them. For his valor he was made a duke.”

Gloriel swept her talons wide. “Look around you, pony! They said nothing could grow on this mountain top. But bodies make excellent compost. We took this empty, barren place and we built Aetite, second only to Griffonstone in splendor.”

A servant filled her wine-glass and she wrapped her claws around the stem. She gave the pony a knowing smile. “Griffons strive for greatness, as the great king commands. So long as there are lands to conquer the flight of the griffon armies give them the chance to prove themselves. Do you think your lands will fare differently, pony?”

She watched him languidly, waiting.

Gouge took his glass, giving the others a way to break the tension. “No doubt the great wizard will prove ferocious prey, when the time comes.”

Grindaxe leaned forward over the table. “Perhaps he is a hunter himself? I understand he spends most of his time far from the court, out in the wilderness, in search of magical beasts.”

For what happened next, the observers would struggle to adequately convey afterwards. At this point Star Swirl the Bearded spoke.

The pony acknowledged that yes, he spent much of his time far from the cities of Equestria, in the wilderness where few ponies or other civilized creatures live.

That he had little to do with affairs of state, and that the concerns of both farmers and emperors were distant to him.

That all of this, his presence, his mission, the threat of war, was not his choice and was a problem he would not have conceived.

And he began to tell of what he was searching for, in the distant wilderness, and the world began to fade away.

He described it as though it were an alien world to them, bereft of sentient life, vast and open to traverse, where you could travel for a day or a lifetime without seeing the sun fall below the horizon, or another creature capable of speech. A place without distrust, or gambit, where laws and greed and force did not stand between him and the stars. Where there was only him and what he sought, impossibly far away.

Where, in a moment of stillness, the earth seemed a reflection of the sky and you could see through the entire world.

And in that search greater peril, greater foes, and struggle, than any they could imagine.

They heard him talk of hunting, and for a few moments, brief moments that felt much longer, all who listened were transported to another realm by his words, far removed from everything that mattered to them in their lives and placed in his, hunting a wild beast through shadows and secrets in places untouched by knife and nail, alone. Sometimes hunted, sometimes in pursuit.

Some in the company were unsure if he was hunting griffon.

He described the wild lands he had traveled, and the mysteries he had pursued, and all the while hanging over his description was that which was not described: the things that lay behind him, rather than in front. The things he was running from, not towards.

It was clear to all who heard him that he was chasing magical truth out there, far from home, and that it would please him greatly to leave them all behind and return there, for the magical mysteries of the wilderness were far better company to him than were griffons or even ponies.

That he was here because he had been commanded by his king, and there was little affection between the two of them, and that the affairs of ponies and griffons meant little to him.

That as he was alien to them they were alien to him, but that he had been summoned to this place to fulfill a promise.

King Blaze was waiting for him, somewhere far above. He would do his duty, whatever the cost.

Later on, when the griffons looked back at that moment and discussed it among themselves, they blamed each other for failing to understand what was coming.

Each of them saw something completely different in his words, recognized some part of themselves – duty, ambition, contempt for weakness, love of home – that they understood intimately. And none of them could understand why the others had been so blind.











Let me tell you a story.

Images of fire and violence adorned the walls, and the severed heads of King Blaze’s enemies hung in a neat row, looking very surprised.

“I brought a gift for your collection,” Star Swirl said, and threw down a blood-splattered helmet with its contents still within to the floor. “I’m disappointed you didn’t try to kill me yourself.”

King Blaze looked approvingly at the torn metal. “You can’t blame me, when I have such a famous pony under my roof! I had to see how you’d… hold up… to the rumors.”

Star Swirl let out an annoyed “Hmph,” and tossed his head, his thick tousled mane resting perfectly against his brow. Both it and his silky smooth goatee were undisturbed by the battle, and he strode forth fearlessly on long, slender legs towards the king, who stepped down from his throne to meet him. “You think you’re the first creature to send your muscle after me? Everywhere I go I am threatened and challenged. I bend to no-one.”

“I am a connoisseur of power. Strength thrills me, and weakness revolts me – and they say you are very thrilling indeed. I had to see it! But such powers do not come without a price. No straight and honest stallion, you are. What dark pacts gave you this strength? And beneath that, are you some soft little pony who has never known a day of struggle in your life?”

“You have no idea what trials I’ve overcome,” Star Swirl said in a voice that was soft like a whisper, and as rough as the growling of a great wolf. He stepped forward purposefully, gracefully, like a dancer, or a fencer, and his eyes smoldered. “I will happily bargain with forbidden powers for an advantage – because I know I will need every scrap I can get for what is to come.”

“Ah. There is a strength I recognize. You would do anything to protect the Unicorn Kingdom then?”

“The Unicorn Kingdom? Is that why you think I’m here? What has the Unicorn Kingdom ever done for me? No, I stand for myself only. Nopony else can trust in me, and I know not to trust in them.”

“Do not pretend you stand apart from the lives of others. Where you go havoc and chaos follows, and you leave every creature terrified in your wake.”

“Should that trouble me?” Star Swirl mocked. “Tear it all down – the blind obedience, the ironclad rules you wrap yourselves around and force down on your hatchlings. It lies and uses them, and when they see that it will hurt. Let them be terrified. Better that their eyes be opened now.”

King Blaze laughed. “You intrigue me. You will make the finest trophy of all, I think. Join me then, forsake your kind and unleash your power upon those who scorned you! Together we will be stronger than all of them.”

“I care for nothing, and join no-one. I exist in opposition – you are merely the latest obstacle in my path.”

“You wound me, Star Swirl. Am I not special at all, to you?”

“Not remotely.”

“Then I must remedy that. I don’t mind – I am a hunter, after all. And you ponies… you so enjoy being chased.” King Blaze looked at the wizard with a cocky smile, and deep, smoldering eyes. His bulging muscles strained against his shirt. “Not just anyone is worthy to be my enemy. I have searched the world for one, and now you fall into my lap. Such good fortune is not to be given up lightly. If you will not be my ally then you shall be my prisoner.”

“Try it, and I will give you more additions to your collection. I am used to being hunted, and I am not easily contained.”

“Such coldness in your voice! Such ruthlessness!” King Blaze let out a loud, boastful laugh without taking his eyes off the pony. “Your rage delights me! It is one of the few exceptional things in this world. Something so rare must not be extinguished, so instead I will fan its flames. I will destroy your life, Star Swirl the Bearded, that I may see how great your rage can grow.”

King Blaze strode up towards him, grinning, his eyes afire. “I will rip apart that armor you wear so well and see what you hide behind it in the depths of your being. I will find what matters most to you, solely so that I can destroy it and taste your tears. I will imprint my name upon your soul in pain.”

“You would not be the first to try,” Star Swirl said, turning his cheek. “And you will not be the last.”

“Oh I will,” Blaze growled. “I will make you think of me every waking moment. I will torment you until there is nothing left that could possibly hurt you more – and then I will end your suffering myself, and you will say my name with your dying breath, and it will be the sweetest sound any creature has ever heard.”

“Ah.” Star Swirl stared into the griffon king’s eyes with anger burning. “Then perhaps you are worth opposing.”

Without another word spoken they approached each other and their lips pressed together in a passionate—

Clover the Clever slammed the book shut and stared at the wall, grimacing, her eye twitching. “I… you… why would anypony even—I don’t even know where to begin!”

She stared down at the book. “I’m never touching you again.”











“Wait, no! Clover! Keep reading!” Twilight Sparkle cried as she reached the end of the text, furiously scribbling notes in her journal. “I have to know what happened next! For research!”











Let me tell you a story.

When the wizard and the griffon king met they agreed to a challenge for the fate of the pony lands. The game they played was called the Game of Ways.

“There is a place far away from here,” King Blaze said, and as he spoke a magical image of it appeared before them, so vivid that Star Swirl could not tell if it was in the Griffon King’s magic, or his own mind's eye, so vivid that he could have sworn he was there in the flesh. “A place where the mountains crack beneath the steps of giants.”

Star Swirl felt the ground tremble beneath him with each step of the unseen monster, his heartbeat racing. The griffon continued speaking. “Where towering figures blot out the sun as they walk, wielding great trees as clubs that they have pulled up by the roots with a single tug, or have snapped in two as easily as they would tear a blade of grass. A single giant eye stares balefully from its forehead, and those who catch its gaze will be crushed by its terrible blow.”

Star Swirl's mouth fell open as he saw the hateful creature roaring above him, crossing the great mountains and leaving great gashes in the forest through its passing, threatening violent death upon those who dared come close.

The Griffon King's grin widened as he watched his fear. “I am the Cyclops,” he said. “What will you be, to escape crushing death at my hands?”

The image froze, releasing Star Swirl from the grip of terror. He shuddered and gulped and coughed. “Is that how the game is played, then?”

“That is how the game is played,” the Griffon King replied, savoring his shock as if it were a fine wine.

“Wait just a minute.” Twilight Sparkle slammed a hoof on the page. “This is the confrontation between Star Swirl the Bearded and the Sphinx in Saddle Arabia! This story is plagiarized!”

She slammed the book shut and fumed.











Let me tell you a story.

“Focus, Star Swirl. Remember your lines. The fate of ponykind hinges on this meeting.”

The unicorn drew some deep breaths to calm himself. He shook his withers and whipped his tail, and stood tall and straight, head held high. He took a step forward and opened the door.

There was a bright flash of magic and a dimensional portal ripped open right in front of him, and he just barely had time to say “What?” before he was dragged through it.

He found himself standing in a heavenly palace, and a giant pony goddess made of beauty and clouds stood before him. “Greetings, Star Swirl the Bearded! I am Synapsia, the Goddess of Connection. The many far-flung worlds you have used as a waste bin for disposing of magics that inconvenience you have petitioned me to speak for them, and they demand recompense! You are being sent to another dimension to see how you like it, until you have learned your lesson! Now go.”

“What?” Star Swirl said again before another portal opened under his hooves and he fell through, tumbling down to dirt.

“At last! A hero has come to save us!” an excitable voice cried. Star Swirl clambered up on his hooves to see a collection of woodland critters, led by an elfin pony, tall and skinny and graceful and innocent. “Hail to thee, noble traveler. Welcome to the land of Wonderall, a world of enchantment and adventure. But we have no time to speak: our homeland is beset by peril, for the monstrous armies of the Dark Lord encroach upon us.” The entire collection of woodland critters whined piteously. “We were driven from our village, and were on the brink of despair. But now the Great Spirit has sent you to be our savior!”

Star Swirl the Bearded agreed to help the poor woodland critters, and together they had many adventures across the land of Wonderall. He spent the next ten years there, having adventures, making friends, and eventually defeated the Dark Lord once and for all and was made King of Wonderall, and everypony was happy at last!

And when his adventures were done he was returned by magic to the very same place and time, exactly as he was when he left, and on Equis all the years he had grown there had passed no more than the blink of an eye.

“Oh! What wonders I have beheld in all my years in Wonderall. Am I now doomed never to look again on the magnificence of the city of facets? Will my dreams be filled with the soft voice of Willow-Flight the Compassionate? Can I go on knowing that the joys of the Thundering Carnival are lost in the past that is another time and place to which I cannot return again? Must I now return to an older life that seemed so dire before but which has been distant and unimportant for so long that it may as well have been a dream? I must go on. I must find the strength. Dear Falderal the Nutchaser would not want me to mourn the loss of her friendship, but would want me to celebrate that it lasted as long as it did and cherish the memories for as long as my life will last. I must pick up the pieces of where I was, and keep the spirit of Wonderall alive in my heart always. Yes, that is what they would tell me.”

He took a step forward, stopped, and looked around. “Where am I?”











“And then when you had the meeting you were completely unprepared and things went horribly horribly wrong,” Clover the Clever said triumphantly. “And the rest is history.”

Star Swirl the Bearded looked at the elaborate charts and lengthy notes with many excited exclamation marks his student had chalked on the blackboard. “That’s… not what happened.”

“But if you were sworn to secrecy about Wonderall then you would say that, wouldn’t you?!”











Let me tell you a story.

The wall was adorned with images of life, knowledge, history. But though he watched the wall, the king was not watching them.

“There’s something special about the shadows cast from firelight,” King Blaze said. “The way they flicker and shift every moment, faster than the mind can follow… in a way they show it from every side at once, like nothing else can. I see it and think, yes, that is the truth of this one. They show the innermost being of a creature.”

He turned away from the shadows to the pony himself.

Star Swirl the Bearded hung before the fire, suspended by heavy chains around his neck the fetlocks of his forelegs, with a heavy ring around his horn. He struggled to keep breathing while the flames licked at him, breathing heavily through gritted teeth as sweat ran down his smoldering beard. His cloak singed and smoked, the enchanted fabric’s healing powers fighting to repair it as quickly as it burned.

“You will not forgive the ruse but I am sure you understand why it was necessary, to bring you here…”

Star Swirl raised his head and turned his burning eyes on the griffon king. “Is this the Empire’s plan, then?”

“Empire? What matters empire in a world of magic?” King Blaze moved closer. “No… This is what truly matters. The empire was only ever meant to bring us both to this point, you and I. Because we both know what truly shapes the world.”

Star Swirl hissed and bent his back, desperately trying to shield himself from the fire. “I don’t know your grievance. So many creatures have reason to hate me, I stopped keeping track long ago.”

“But I think you do, wizard.” King Blaze flapped his wings, a gust of wind like bellows, and the fire grew. “You watched her raise the moon, and refuse to set. You were there when the great work was nearly accomplished. But you ran. You fled into the wilderness, shunning your own kind. Why?”

Star Swirl hissed in pain, and pulled taut the chain from the collar on his neck to get away from the fire. “I… had to leave,” he said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “I hunted magical beasts instead. The dark creatures that live in the crevices on the edges of the world – that’s where I belonged. I had no place among ponies. I was barely tolerated even before it all broke down, and after… there was nothing for me there. Only regret, and anger. So I left, and searched for answers that ponies could not give.”

“And what did you find?”

Star Swirl said nothing.

“I know what you searched for. A way to break the curse. A way to tame the beast, or kill it. Perhaps a way to release it that would not destroy everything you loved in the process…”

He gripped the pony’s head with a claw and raised it up to look at him, and Star Swirl saw the fluid darkness flow across the griffon’s eyes. “You fight to contain it, but it always tries to break free.”

Star Swirl stared, visions of the apocalypse playing out in his mind, and in spite of the fire he suddenly felt cold. “That power must never be unleashed again.”

“You were hard to find, wizard. But I found you. You were hard to draw out, but I did. I had to bend half the nations of Equis to my will to bring you here, and now… I finally have you.”

He let go of the pony and stepped back. “The legacy of the Nightmare lives on in us. And now at last the light and dark sides of the moon will be united.”

He snatched the hat from Star Swirl’s head. The pony looked up with pangs of dread as the griffon reached inside, and pulled out an amulet, a silver disc on a white metal chain that glowed like the full moon.

He tossed aside the hat and from around his own neck he drew another amulet, the dark twin of the first, and held the two together. “And Eternal Night will once more cover all of Equis.”

Star Swirl breathed heavily, and twisted in his chains. “Listen… I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what lies it told you. But this power won’t serve you. It cannot be controlled. It can only destroy.”

“You misunderstand me, pony. I care nothing for wishes. The power demands to be released… and our destiny is to create the future. All that’s left for you and I to do… is to see which of us will live to see it done.”

Star Swirl shook in pain, and strained at his bonds. Something dark flickered and moved in his eyes, obscuring the reflected firelight. The chains creaked and his face warped as the transformation began.

King Blaze grinned when he saw it. “There is power in you we have yet to see.”

He grabbed a poker and began to stoke the flames higher.

“It’s time to let it out.”











Let me tell you a story.

Star Swirl the Bearded crossed the threshold to the King’s chamber. “King Blaze, I am here to—”

A sword emerged from nowhere by magic and impaled him through his stomach and emerging out his back, soon followed by a flurry of other swords. They hummed with power and tore through him in all directions, an explosion of blood all around him, and he fell to the floor in a dozen parts.

His horn glowed on his severed head and his body pulled itself together and merged into one, standing up once more.

King Blaze laughed uproariously and clapped his talons. “Magnificent! Simply magnificent. I think I’m going to keep him.”




Let me tell you a story.

Miles above the mountain as he plummeted through the sky Star Swirl the Bearded charged a spell with all his might to slow his fall while he cast the cloud-walking spell, and lightning struck as his hooves crashed onto the cloud. The shadow of King Blaze passed over him, and a ferocious gust of wind followed in his wake that threatened to rip the cloud itself apart.

Star Swirl dug in his heels and readied his spell, his horn glowing like fire, as the griffon landed in the mist in front of him. His great wings stretched far, and his roar pierced the air loud enough to shatter the dome of heaven, as the battle began once more.




Let me tell you a story.

Star Swirl the Bearded slumped against a tree to stop from falling as he drew a slow, painful breath. Blood trickled down from his lip, and every movement was agony. He stared down the bitter passage through the dead forest, branches like bones reaching out to claim him. Then he kept going.

All along the voice kept speaking, coming from everywhere and nowhere. “Do you feel the poison in your blood, trickling ever closer? Soon it will reach your heart, and all your magic will not save you. And once you are out of the way… the world is ours. Do you still think you can find me before then, little pony?”

Her laughter rang out across the wood as he took another step.




Let me tell you a story.

Star Swirl the Bearded cackled with cruel glee, stomping his hooves as his misshapen form blended back into the shadows, crooked and bent, leaving fire and ruin behind him.




Let me tell you a story.

Star Swirl the Bearded had not stepped away for three days and nights while the attack continued. He raised his shield against just in time for the fireball to crash against it, then dropped it again to conserve energy, sparks of burning stone raining down on the ground. The hawks shrieked all around, dozens of them, waiting for an opening.




Let me tell you a story.

Star Swirl the Bearded screamed in agony as the lightning shot through him, the chains creaking from the strain as he pulled against them. His frail, skinny frame rose and fell with each breath.




Let me tell you a story.




Let me tell you a story.




Let me tell you a story…
> Act Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Long ago, in Aetite.

On the third day a messenger came to Star Swirl the Bearded and knocked on his door.

“The King will see you now,” he said.

Star Swirl nodded.

The pony left his chambers with his garb, leaving nothing behind. He walked steadily and calmly, and all around him griffons paused their conversations and watched him as he went past.

He said nothing as the messenger led him through the aerie, and he took in all around him.

“The moon is rising,” one griffon muttered under her breath.

“What will happen to him?” one asked, not caring if he was heard.

“Are we really going to just let him walk out of here?” a tiger said to a crow, who shrugged, black feathers fluttering.

“There might not be any point to keeping him. There will be nowhere for him to go by the time he gets back.”

They took him to the barricade, the fortress within the mid-ring, from which the guards could watch over everything that happened in the aerie below. The gates were unlocked for them, and they led him inside.

They climbed through a series of guarded passages, doors unlocking and locking again, and finally onto a landing high up on the king-tree’s exterior, its branch pointing west.

“There is no earthbound route to the palace,” the messenger said their escort took up positions on the pony’s sides. “From here we fly.”

The guards closed in, and took hold of him. Their talons wrapped around his forelegs, claws gripping him firmly. They spread their wings and lifted him up, the landing and the branch fell away beneath them, and the vast extent of Aetite Duchy stretched out before him as they climbed.

Far below, in the camp outside the aerie the armies were moving. For days and weeks supplies had been pouring in from the plains below, arms and armor from the mines and forges of the mountain, and griffon soldiers in great number flying from across the provinces to answer the king’s call. Now they took to the air and beat their wings against the rain, a great flock rising like black smoke into the sky.

They carried the pony to the top of the tree, and the ducal palace finally came into view.

Sitting at the top of the central trunk, at the nexus where it split into disparate branches, it loomed ominously above them as they approached.

It was shaped like a nest. Not one of the pleasant bowl-shaped nests of singing forest birds in peaceful woodlands but the great cluster of a nest built high up in a forbidding tree, a huge and chaotic structure of wood and stone. To Star Swirl it looked like an extension of both the mid-ring fortress and the Countess’s parlor, as opulent as it was warlike, covered in spires and thick branches at all sides like spears reaching for the world.

They carried him inside and flew him through its chambers until they reached the highest, deepest place within it. There he stood before a huge arched doorway flanked by ceremonial royal guards in heavy armor, and carrying silver spears.

They put him down, and Star Swirl stood on the floor on his own hooves before the door. Slowly, heavily, it swung open.

He passed through alone, and it closed shut behind him.

The hall was enormous, and as he entered it Star Swirl was like an ant stepping foot in a cathedral.

It was unworked wood, yet twisting unnaturally in a crown to a wide glass skylight far above with bright sunlight pouring through. And it was empty of all furnishings and distractions, for nothing could be adequate to the creature within.

He stepped forward, and he stood before Blaze, king of the griffons.

“Ah. The legendary Star Swirl the Bearded. We meet at last.”

He looked up, and further up.

The king was a griffon, and he was eagle and lion. But no griffon was a hundred feet long, whose head reached twenty feet above the floor while lying at rest, with wings whose reach could shroud the sun over the mountains, or had draconic scaled ridges along his part-yellow, part-black beak, and over his brow. Black twin nubs protruded from his head that would someday grow into horns.

“They did not tell you, did they?”

King Blaze rested on his forelegs, his talons curled before him. One of them alone was the size of the pony’s entire body. His voice was as powerful as a landslide, but as steady as the mountain, neither overpowering nor violent.

He turned his head, and the motion sent a fluttering wind moving through the hall. “It has been long since I showed myself in public. And stories change in the telling, as fast among griffons as ponies,” the King said. “You may tell others what you have seen, if you wish. It will just be one more tale among many.”

Star Swirl made no gesture or motion in response. “I do not tell tales.”

“Indeed.”

King Blaze turned back and looked at the pony with giant, deep, black eyes that seemed to see straight through him. “So. You’re the pony who stood by Nightmare Moon’s side.”

“And you are the griffon who fought with her against the dragons,” Star Swirl said. “I see now that story held more meaning than I knew.”

“Does that change your plans?”

Star Swirl tensed up, his jaw clenched.

King Blaze stood up.

The floor trembled beneath Star Swirl’s hooves at his weight, every small movement taking titanic force and shape by the king’s scale alone. The rising of his claw, the pressure of his talons resting on the ground, the rustling of his feathers like wind whispering through the leaves of a forest as he came to rest and spread his wings.

“What, then, do you have to say to the king of the griffons?”

Star Swirl took a step back, and the Griffon King thought he saw a flash of uncertainty in the pony’s eyes. But the stallion stood in a formal pose and cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“From his majesty the Unicorn King Titanium the First, to his majesty Griffon King Blaze, I come to deliver a message of peace and cooperation. In order to avoid a war that is sure to be bloody and costly on both sides, Titanium is willing to discuss paying tribute to the Emperor. In order to secure the independence of the Unicorn Kingdom, with the lands of earth ponies and pegasi as well if the Emperor is willing, he is prepared to offer gold and jewels, the arcane knowledge and power of unicorns that would be of great benefit to the Griffon Kingdom. He wishes me to say that the Unicorn Kingdom would be more valuable as an ally, with powerful sorcerers like myself in the Kingdom’s service, than a conquered colony. If the Emperor is willing, the King will also offer to be an intermediary in negotiations with the other pony tribes to ensure their compliance. The King has much to offer, and wishes the Emperor to understand that ponies have much to offer if the relationship is willing.”

Star Swirl concluded his message and stood silent. For a moment it hung in the air, the two of them watching each other without speaking.

“Is that all your king has to say?”

King Blaze snorted, and the breath was hot enough for Star Swirl to wonder if it was his size or his draconic heritage that did it. “If this is his best attempt, if all he can do is try to buy my favor, he did not need a great wizard to do so.”

Star Swirl the Bearded kept his eyes on the griffon, shifting his stance slightly. “What is it you mean to say, great griffon king?”

“I was curious, when I heard you were coming. That he would send you, of all ponies, and what that meant. What you would say. But now I think perhaps the messenger is the message.” King Blaze peered down at the pony with dark, piercing eyes. “Do you know what I see? I see a pony who is exiled by his own kind, who is feared rather than loved. A pony of means, a pony of ability, but a pony without a heart. Star Swirl the Bearded cares nothing for the thoughts of others. Your king did not send you here because he believed in your powers of peacemaking.”

Star Swirl twisted a hoof into the floor, gazing up at the king along his horn. “I did not come here to anger you.”

“No? I have seen the look in your eyes before.”

Star Swirl did not look away. He drew a calm, deep breath through his nose, not moving his lips before he spoke. “I doubt that.”

“But I have. It is the look of someone searching for ways to kill me.” The giant griffon turned, catlike, and stalked across the great hall with deft steps. “You are not so hard to read as the others think, pony. Since you stepped inside this chamber you have been watching me like a warrior. Gauging my strength, searching for weak points.”

He spread his wings, and a sudden gust of wind rippled through Star Swirl’s cloak, and set his bells a-jingling. “Did your king send you here to kill me, pony? Or to die trying?” He asked. “Or perhaps in the hopes that we would kill each other, and rid this world of two monsters at once? That the last traces of old darkness would be banished…?”

Star Swirl took a few swift steps to the side, and stood calmly as in the center of the storm while the winds split around him. He looked up at the king. “If you think that, why did you let me come?”

“I would not be king if I was afraid of death.” Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “And nor are you, I think. You are alone, and far from home, and surrounded by enemies. Yet you do not seem afraid.”

The giant griffon easily crossed the room in a single bound, suddenly, and stalked around him while Star Swirl turned to keep facing him.

“I thought that was why he sent you,” the King continued. “Perhaps he thought a coward would be laughed out of these halls. And whatever else you are, you are not a coward.”

King Blaze stopped, and sat upright, and looked down at the pony in thought while Star Swirl met his eyes. “Is this your king’s plan, then? Kill me, and cut off the invasion at a stroke? Does he hope that in my absence the Empire would turn on itself, that Godfrey and Gloriel and all the rest would fight each other to succeed me, and the offensive abandoned and forgot? If so then I must disappoint him. Even if you kill me the invasion will proceed regardless.”

“I am sure I do not know what King Titanium thinks of your empire. I only have my message.”

“And that message brought you into my halls, within horn’s reach. His deadliest weapon of all, aimed at the greatest threat his little kingdom faces. Do you deny it, pony?”

Star Swirl said nothing.

King Blaze chuckled. “You are not a deceiver, wizard. Poor material for a diplomat.”

“Deception requires caring for the opinions of others, and as your majesty has noted I was never any good at that.”

“Hah!” King Blaze laughed, genuinely pleased. “So you have come to kill me then… or try to.”

“That’s where your mind goes,” Star Swirl said. “Do you think every creature’s imagination is so limited?”

King Blaze smiled.

And then he slammed his claw down on the floor.

In a flash Star Swirl teleported across the room and into a fighting stance, his hooves dug in, tense and ready to spring, his horn charged with magic and glowing, a shifting dark and light aura like clouds racing across the full moon.

King Blaze laughed. “You see, little pony? Life is war. You of all ponies know that. We are made of the same stuff, you and I. I can see what your king sees in you.”

Star Swirl’s eyes burned. “You know nothing of me.”

“Don’t I?” King Blaze raised his head in satisfaction. “You will be a formidable foe on the battlefield… I don’t doubt that you will take many griffons down with you. They will sing songs of your death for decades. It will be glorious.”

Star Swirl bit back his tongue until the bile receded. “Do you really care so little for life?”

The King shook his head slowly. “You don’t understand. The griffons are many things but they are not cowards. The more power you contain, the more dangerous you seem, the more they will dream of hanging your head on the wall for all to see. Great challenges lead to great rewards. I taught them that. Don’t pretend the great Star Swirl the Bearded doesn’t understand. You, of all ponies, are not interested in peace.”

“I do not want to kill anyone,” Star Swirl said in a low voice. “But if it’s necessary to protect the peace… I am willing to.”

King Blaze shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, wizard. You can lie to anyone else. But I recognize a nightmare when I see one.”

Star Swirl’s face flashed in a snarl. He had dug in his hooves and his horn glowed, a shifting dark and light aura, like clouds racing past the full moon.

He forced himself to stand at ease and extinguish his magic. “They think that. I wondered what you would think.”

King Blaze laughed, slowly. “Oh, now it comes. That stings, wizard. Such hurt in those few words. Go on.”

“Do not presume you know me. Some things are duties. Some things are tasks. Some things are…”

“Desires?”

“…Questions. Questions that cry out for answers.”

“Is it so painful for you to admit that you want something, wizard?”

Star Swirl glared up at the griffon king, and for just a moment there was the slightest tremble in his legs. King Blaze leaned down.

King Blaze laughed, softly, bitterly, and it made a deep rumbling sound in his throat. “It comes to this at last then. A battle for the ages between us two monsters, to decide the fate of Equis… She must be pleased.”

The King leaned down so his head was close. “Tell me, little pony.” His voice was so strong that even at its softest Star Swirl felt it throughout his body. “Do we not understand one another well?”

Silence hung in the air.

Star Swirl turned his head away, his eyes closed.

“I see it is true, great king, as the griffons say,” Star Swirl said. His voice was low, reluctant, but resigned. “You are indeed as mighty as they claim. You are the source of their spirit, the drive that urges them on to conquest.” He sighed. “That is what I had to see for myself. What you were, in all of this. If everything she touched…”

The king raised a brow.

Star Swirl turned his head away, his eyes closed. “I was lost, after the fall. Ponies had to find their own way forward, and so did I. There was nothing for me there but pain and regret. So I left, to search for answers in the places untouched by ponykind, the dark corners of Equis. I needed to find the root of the evil, and to find some way against destiny itself, to repair the damage we had done. I spent years in the wilds, searching, heedless to everything else… And when I finally returned to Equestria I found a land I couldn’t recognize. The pony tribes divided. A Unicorn King, unworthy of his crown, ruling a country built on a lie. Blind and careless to the past, as though they thought by pretending it never happened they could erase the pain. And I was an ugly reminder of everything they wanted to forget.”

The griffon king cocked his head, watching and waiting.

“I had to see the only other creature who knew her as she was,” Star Swirl said quietly. “To take the measure of the griffon, the one who fought beside her for the world’s survival before he became the Conqueror King, so feared and hated by all the world. I had to see if you really are what they say… if everything she touched carries the same taint.” He looked up into the king’s eyes, his own eyes filled with the resolve of someone who had seen too much and had nothing left but to continue forward. “If you are a monster that I have to put down before I do the same to myself.”

They were both still for a moment.

“I miss her.” There was an unusual tremor in the pony’s voice. “So much.”

“She was…” King Blaze sighed. “She was unique. I doubt we will ever see her like again. The world no longer has room for creatures like her.”

“She held the beauty of starlight in her eyes, and the softness of the breeze in a shadowed garden to steal away from the summer’s heat.” Star Swirl looked up at the heavens through the glass skylight. “She… understood. In all the world, she was the only pony who understood.”

“I saw her as a friend. A king does not get to see many creatures as friends.” King Blaze looked away into the distance of his memories. “She was a fearless warrior, and an honorable ally. I learned much from her. I… did not believe it, at first, when I learned she was defeated. I could not imagine it.”

“She was alone.” Star Swirl glanced away and closed his eyes. “At the end of everything, she was completely alone.”

Another moment of quiet passed.

“Your griffons are wrong about me, king,” Star Swirl said. “I was not the one pony who stood by her side. I was the one pony who failed her when she needed me most.”

King Blaze lowered his head. “I cared for her, pony. I knew when she was defeated that the world would never be the same. I mourned her… It was she who taught me to command. It was she who made me king.”

“And now your kingdom is turned against her people,” Star Swirl said bitterly. He looked up at the griffon, with no anger in his eyes, only regret. “Tell me, great king, how did that happen?”

King Blaze turned his head upwards, deep in thought, and remembered.

“She… she came to the Peaks when I was young and foolish, and unsure of myself. She was searching for allies, and had been rebuffed by all the other clans. But she was strong enough for a griffon to admire, and desperate enough to offer her words to a minor clan chief, and a half-breed.

“She recognized my mixed blood, and knew what it meant – in all its facets. She knew that dragon blood made me stronger than a griffon, and that griffon blood pulled me away from the Dragonlord’s command. But more than that, she knew what it meant to be apart from those you rule. We spoke long into the night, and she taught me a different way to lead. She taught me about your pony nobility, and urged me to lead by example rather than through challenges of strength and fear alone. To inspire others to lend me their strength. That we are stronger united. And thanks to her we stood against the dragons, together.

“Her lessons worked. Rather than demand obedience from my underlings from fear of my strength I promised them rewards in return for their accomplishments in my service. When we won victories and claimed land and wealth, rather than hoard it for my own glory I gave it out to those who had performed great feats of strength. I showed my followers that they would be rewarded for their valor, and I showed the great warriors of other clans what they could reap if they fought for me instead.

“The other clan leaders laughed at me. A thane who didn’t have a respectable pile of gold to call his own? Outrageous. Ridiculous. Doomed. They kept laughing until their strongest warriors left them to join me instead, and I took their treasure and gave it to their old underlings as a prize.

“In the end Belekos, the Jagged King, was felled. The sky turned, and the Day of the Dragons ended. With the dragons gone we had an entire new land for the taking. I carved it up like a roasted boar, and gave it out in pieces to my followers, in return for their loyalty. I told them to do the same, and spread the word of griffon greatness across the mountains and the plains, as Nightmare Moon taught me. More and more griffons flocked to my aeries, we spread our wings and soared! They wanted to prove their strength, and share in our wealth. My nobles competed for the greatest of them, sought out new lands and new challenges. We grew to greatness no griffon had ever known…” A flicker of pain flashed across the griffon king’s face. “I wonder if I should have seen it then.”

Star Swirl listened, and waited as the king struggled to find the words. “Was it Nightmare Moon’s corrupted influence hanging over me? Was it the Jagged King’s final curse on us both? Or was it a magic spell built into the idea itself? My Griffon Kingdom grew and became the Empire, stronger than ever, built on the twin promises of victory and reward. But somewhere along the way it became too strong to keep in check. With each new conquest came new nobles and warriors looking to prove their might, and the drumbeat of war became unending. The Empire moved from strength to strength, battle to battle, to all who watched we were unstoppable, and glorious!” The king’s voice rose to a great shout, and then stopped, and he let out a long-drawn sigh. “It’s difficult to turn, when you’ve been traveling down the same road for so long. They all expect things from you, so clear from the image of you they carry around in their heads. Perhaps you know this, strange little pony.”

Star Swirl glanced away. “Yes. I do know this.”

Griffon King Blaze shook his head. “My foolish, mis-taught children… I have seen what happens to empires, pony. They take, and take, and take. The sweetness of triumph turns to dragon’s greed. In the end there is nothing left but bloodlust, and cruelty, and the inevitable. Look upon my works, Star Swirl the Bearded – I did this. The Griffon Empire will grow until it can grow no longer – and then it will tear itself apart, leaving Griffonstone a hollow shell. I do not want this fate for my children.”

The King shifted, and the floor creaked, the sun blocked by the king as he turned his head upwards to look out the skylight. “I am growing older, pony. Even dragon’s blood doesn’t make me immortal. I sit at the head of the Empire, but it has a will of its own. Someday I will be gone, and the imperial crown will go to some careless thug like Godfrey, and it will all be over.

“I built a machine for conquest, little pony. The Empire spreads across Equis like a fire, that grows hungrier the more it consumes. And it does not—cannot—stop moving. This war is nothing personal. I hold no animosity towards you ponies. But the Empire has set its eyes upon you, and I cannot change that.”

Star Swirl blinked, and stared. “You don’t even want to do this?”

“What I want is for griffonkind to endure. Not crash back down into a thousand powerless, fractured clans, easy pickings for any other creatures. But even a king does not always get what he wants. In difficult times we make the best choices we can and hope for the best. You of all ponies should know this.”

Star Swirl took a step forward, staring up at the giant griffon in disbelief. “You don’t have to do this. You’re the king! Don’t tell me you’re powerless now.”

“But I am king. It is my responsibility. I will not sacrifice the entire kingdom to satisfy my own regret.”

The two of them looked at each other in silence, locked in a stalemate each with themselves.

Star Swirl drew a deep breath, then let it out. “Tell me,” he began. “You are famous for your honor, King Blaze. You built the Griffon Kingdom by honor, not only bloodshed. Your word is iron. Isn’t that so?”

King Blaze nodded.

“And if you swore on your honor to put an end to the imperial conquest, would your griffons not listen to their king?”

King Blaze laughed, mirthlessly. “Maybe they would have, long ago, when my strength was fresh in their minds. But it has been a long time since any griffon truly feared me. The Empire has overtaken me, pony. I can no longer command it.”

“Then perhaps it’s time we remind them,” Star Swirl said. “Show them the fire of the past one more time.”

King Blaze gazed down at the tiny pony. “What are you suggesting?”

“Fight me,” Star Swirl said. “Give them a spectacle they cannot ignore, to instill their hearts with awe and dread, and show them that the empire is still no match for the terrible wizard, or for the magnificent Griffon King. Show the ambitious who trail your steps what they are up against if they seek to break from your rule.”

The wizard stared into the eyes of the king of griffons. “Remind the Empire how it feels to be uncertain. Remind them of Nightmare Moon, and the Day of the Dragons. Show them what it means when titans fight. And then, when the horror of it is fresh in their minds, and none would dare gainsay you, make your command.”

Star Swirl raised his hoof in invitation. “A secret pact, known only to the two of us. Put an end to the endless bloodshed, and let your people learn to live in peace.”

King Blaze looked at the pony, deep in thought. “The nobles will not accept a complete halt. Not without a fight. They will want your head instead.”

“If there has to be a war, make it against me only,” Star Swirl said. “Make it your duty to see it done. Find the greatest assassins on Equis, and send them after me. Maybe give me a head’s up when they’re coming, so nopony else is hurt.” He chuckled softly, and smiled. “Even the boar hears the call of the hunting horn, does it not?”

King Blaze raised his head level, and looked at the golden aerie hall around him. “I won’t make this easy for you. They must see that we give it our all. Are you sure you are ready for this?”

“I won’t hold back if you don’t.”

The corners of King Blaze’s beak curled in a smile. He held out his talon, that was as large as the pony, as if for a shake. “Then I believe we have an accord, Star Swirl the Bearded. Are you ready?”

The pony nodded, and put his hoof against the talon. “I’m ready.”

His horn glowed, and King Blaze’s eyes lit with fire as the ground beneath them began to tremble.











At the end of all the stories, Twilight closed the last book.

“That’s where it ends. Star Swirl the Bearded goes into the room, and the rest is theory.” She sighed. “I’m afraid we’ll never learn the full truth.”

She pushed away the book and glanced over her notes. “The Griffon Empire would never grow again. It stayed in that deadly stalemate with Star Swirl for many decades after, until the Windigo frost changed everything. Then came the first Hearth’s Warming and the founding of Equestria. With ponies united again the danger of war abated. King Blaze eventually faded from history, and his successors struggled to keep his lands together, let alone conquer more. The Empire stagnated, and eventually broke apart. The Griffon Kingdom itself kept going, united around the Idol of Boreas, until it was lost. And you know the rest.”

“You sound weirdly sad about this,” Starlight said. “Things worked out well in the end. The invasion was stopped. The three tribes lived in peace and disharmony, and eventually the first Hearth’s Warming brought them together. It’s a happy ending.”

“I know. It just… it bugs me, you know? There are so many things we’ll never know about the world we live in. About the ponies, and creatures, that built it, and made it happen.”

“There’s always time travel,” Starlight said eagerly, flashing a manic smile until Twilight scowled at her. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Sheesh.”

Twilight ran her eyes over the stacks of books and the notes she’d written on her quest for understanding. “He went there to make peace. But he failed completely, and the two of them were locked in battle for many decades to come,” she said quietly. “What was he thinking, in a time like that? This is maybe Star Swirl at his lowest point. Trapped in a dark age, watching Equis descend into barbarism. Everything was a struggle for him… It’s kind of tragic that the only way he could find to protect Equestria was to fight.”

“Whatever else you can say about him, Star Swirl the Bearded is pretty clearly the wrong pony to make peace.”

“Maybe. But ponies and griffons have such a long history together. Even into the modern day, young griffons came to attend pegasus flight camps. Pegasi, hippogriffs, griffons. We’re more closely connected than either of us think, and still – so far apart. I keep thinking that if things had gone slightly differently griffons could have been just like us ponies.” Twilight ran a hoof softly across an illustration of a griffon in flight. “A whole nation of creatures struggling across centuries to find a sense of themselves, trying to find something to keep them linked together…”

“Threats of violence is no way to organize a country.”

“We’re all bound by the limits of our imagination. What will ponies say about us in a thousand years? Will they think we did a good job? Will they understand that we did our best with what we knew?”

Starlight didn’t answer. 

Twilight pushed the book aside and stood up. “You mentioned time travel… I’ve wondered about that sometimes. Maybe just to observe, if it could be done safely. If we could see things long gone, without interfering… Just imagine what we could learn.”

“You’d witness a lot of tragedy then. And I know you would desperately want to change it. Would that be better?”

“There are good parts too,” Twilight said. “We all made it this far.”

“Yeah. Somehow. Here’s hoping it keeps going that way.”

Twilight took one last look back at the desk as they left the library, and the stacks of books piled up on it, and their histories.

She lingered there for a moment, then turned away, and closed the door.