> Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
>  by Tundara
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Part One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
A Myths and Birthrights Side-Story
By Tundara

Part One

Mid-spring covered Equestria in a comforting blanket of sunlight and pleasant breezes, the air filled with the laughter of youngsters playing and couples whispering sweetly into each other's ear. From Vanhoover in the west down to the new settlement of Los Pegasus across the vast mid-western deserts and plains and into the nations heartlands and the old cities clinging to the eastern shores the scene was repeated. 

Including in one small unremarkable village; Sparkledale. 

Built between the capital and the city of Baltimare, the small village, no more than a dozen homes, an inn, and train-stop, was known for only two things; the bright red flowers used to make potions that helped with aches and pains, and as the ancestral home of the Sparkles. Sparkle Manor dominated the village, looking over the smaller houses and the two story inn. A smattering of rain-clouds hung over the village, a consequence of the local Weather Officer not being very proficient with mathematics or reading missives from the head office located in Cloudsdale. 

The manor had seen a resurgence of activity in recent weeks as its mistress and her herd vacationed away from the hustle and intrigue that hung about Canterlot since the coronation of Twilight Abigail Sparkle. The new princess had grown up in the soft wood halls of the manor, her early love of magic and history formed among the moderately sized library and the many paintings and busts that lined the walls. Princess Twilight herself hadn't returned to the manor; rather her older brother and his family had decided to escape the city, and the spot-light Twilight was attracting from the other noble Houses. Along with Shining's herd had also come a contingent of Crystal Guards, the royal protectors of the Princess of the Crystal City, and his parents. The remainder of House Sparkle would arrive over the next week. 

His herd-mothers, their assorted daughters and sons, had elected to stay behind to spend more time with Twilight. 

Once they arrived, the manor would be filled to the brim with ponies, both laughing family and stoic unmoving protectors. 

It was amid this sea of joviality, in a nation basking beneath the sun as it celebrated the ascension of a Princess that a single holdout was located.

Her name was Tyr.

Appearing to be a normal unicorn filly, Tyr was stubborn, aloof, anything but normal, and very set in her ways. Which in Tyr's case meant being treated as a goddess made flesh, rather than as a petulant child, by her caretakers. It had only been a couple weeks since she'd been taken in as a foster-child by Cadence and Shining. Using ancient magic known only to the Royal Herd, Tyr had been altered, her true nature as an alicorn hidden. Gone were her wings, and she still felt their absence. Little motions and gestures she'd taken for granted suddenly becoming impossible.

At a hundred and thirty five years old, no pony had been certain if the spell would work or last. It had, on both accounts, but had also come with an unexpected side-effect. With her divine nature suppressed, Tyr had become susceptible to illness. It was nothing serious, just a mild unseasonable cold bug that left the filly's nose running and her sneezing continually.  

Her fluffy golden mane, broken only by a streak of cobalt blue bordered by cotton bands, hung limp and listless in her summer-blue eyes. Hooves crossed in front of her chest, she gave a little huff of annoyance as her foster mother tucked her into the plush, thick covers. Cadence hummed a gentle tune as she plucked a thermometer from its dangling position in the corner of Tyr's mouth.

"I hate this," Tyr grumbled as Cadence checked the thermometer.

"Oh?" was all she got in response.

"Yeah. I've never been—," the remainer of Tyr's complaints were shattered by a series of sharp sneezes and coughs. Laying back into the goose-down pillows, Tyr just groaned, all ideas of complaining drained from her. 

"Aw, there, there," Cadence cooed softly, leaning down to kiss her foster-daughter just below her soft pink horn. 

"Knock-knock," came a voice from the hallway, both Cadence and Tyr looking over to see Velvet Sparkle step into the room. "I just came to see how my favourite grand-filly is doing." 

"She's your only grand-filly," Cadence pointed out. 

The older looking mare's face brightened a bit as a bemused smile touched the corners of her eyes. "'Grand-filly', I was once honestly afraid I'd never be able to say those words." 

There was a very brief moment of sadness that flickered across her face, breaking the smile and leaving a more neutral expression behind. Trotting into the room, her hoof-beats becoming muffled as she transitioned from the shining wood to intricate, thick woven rugs, Velvet came to the bedside and sat down across from Cadence.

"You were afraid you'd never have grand-foals?" Cadence arched a brow, her eyes squinting ever so slightly at her mother-in-law. "But you had Shiny when you were young. Not to mention all your herd-daughters..."

"Oh, hush," Velvet snapped softly, waving a hoof. "It's a long story, and you jumping to conclusions won't help. It's a story I've wanted to tell for many years, but haven't been able to repeat to anypony. Not my beloved Comet, not my own foals, not even to myself."

An idea flashed behind Velvet's powder blue eyes. 

Jumping up fully onto the bed, legs folded beneath her, Velvet said, "How about I tell you the story. It is a long one, about the lost years of my foal-hood. Filled with adventure and danger, old wizards and cruel sorcerers, and a Queen trapped in stone." 

Tyr's eyes lit up with interest as Velvet began her story, the middle-aged mare's voice filling the bedroom and filtering out into the entire manor. 




    


I was young when my parents died, still very much just a little filly. Much smaller than you are now. I had yet to earn my Mark and was so naive and innocent. Everything was a big game and I was so excited when Father told me he'd be bringing Mother and I with him on one of his expeditions.

For some time he'd talked about going north beyond the Crystalspine Mountains in search of the mysterious and reclusive Halla. It had been his dream to create a modern comprehensive book detailing the life, customs, and history of arguably the most isolated race in all the world. Even when he returned from visiting the distant lands of the Zebras and Camels across the eastern ocean, having seen some of the oldest cities on Ioka, all he could talk about was the Halla. My sisters, brothers and I would gather at the bottom of his old chair, as Father relaxed with a pipe and glass of apple brandy, to listen to his stories. 

And what stories he'd spin. Pieced together from rumour and scraps of half-forgotten Pegasi history, he would have us enthralled as he spoke about the Eternal Herd and how the earth would shake for miles in any direction heralding their approach long before the dust plume could be seen. His voice would go low and soft as he created an image of a singularly proud and unfathomable civilization. We'd laugh and clap our hooves at the silly voices and accents he'd put on while he repeated the only song believed to be of Halla origin. Then the room would fall silent as he regaled his foals with the legends of the Halla's queen, and the war she waged against the early pony settlers of Equestria. 

You can imagine my glee when Father told me that he'd be letting Mother and I join him on his expedition to the north. My younger brothers and sisters would be staying behind, along with Father's two other wives. I can't tell you how much I annoyed my siblings as I pranced around the manor in the weeks leading to our departure.

It was a wonderful early spring day when we boarded the stage coach to Vanhoover. The Celebration of Life was close at hoof, not that I cared. Missing out on the two weeks of birthday parties stacked one on top of the other was worth it to travel with Father on a real expedition. 

With teary eyes, we were wished good luck, and Mother and Father said their final farewells to the rest of the herd. 

It took us a couple weeks to reach Vanhoover, a pleasant city sitting in the shadow of the western edge of the Crystalspine Mountains. From there we met up with the rest of the expedition; a couple of Father's colleagues from Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, our guide across the mountains, and several sturdy earth ponies to help transport the equipment and supplies. I was so excited, leaping back and forth around our guide until he made Father promise to keep me calm and out of his way.

Eventually we made it over the snow swept pass and I saw the Taiga for the first time. An endless sea of Cypress and Firs that covered valleys and sweeping plains; the single largest forest in all the world, and the most mysterious. We ponies know more about the Everfree Forest than we do the Taiga. My hooves could barely stay still as I thought about the Halla that could have been watching us even then as we descended the northern side of Mount Harper.

The Blizzard Singer Legion tried to warn the expedition off as we passed their ancestral fort. Their commander went so far as to plead with Father to make me stay with them in their mountain fortress. But he refused, said he could handle the dangers and protect me, and she gave up.  

I was trotting alongside Professor Gem Swirl of House Swirl when we approached the forest's edge. He was a kindly middle-aged dark toned unicorn who often snuck me little treats or would tell me all about the different gem formations we encountered while crossing the pass. I can't recall now what we were discussing at the time, only that he grew quiet and smiled the widest most brilliant smile when we found ourselves beneath the snow capped tops of the trees.

Deeper and deeper we made our way into the forest, Father and his colleagues turning over every rock and looking behind every tree for any sign of the Halla.

They found none.

The forest was beautiful, primordial, and pristine. Not one hoof print in the snow, or disturbed branches, or campfires did we find. 

By the tenth day father was beginning to grow despondent, wondering if the Halla even existed, or if they were nothing but old Pegasi tales. 

Then we encountered the Frost Wolves.

Frost Wolves are not unlike the Timberwolves that live in the dark and old forests of Equestria. Instead of being made of branches and leaves, they are formed from magical ice and snow. Their breath can freeze the hairs of your coat, and their bite steal all the warmth in your body. Unlike the Timberwolves, Frost Wolves love to hunt and stalk living prey, especially foalish ponies tromping through their homes.

My memories of that day are a confused blur. I know I woke early and played around my parents tent, chasing a couple squirrels and a racoon. The specifics of what happened next are lost. All I remember are the screams and the sight of crimson stained snow around Gem Swirl and our guide as the wolves attacked, followed by running as fast as I could through the forest while Mother screamed my name.

I ran and ran, my little legs carrying me of their own accord as pine branches slapped across my face. Green, brown and white flew passed in a dizzying swirl of trees and snow. 

Three of the wolves chased me farther and farther from the camp, their breath chilling my hooves. I tried everything I could to lose them, darting around trees, under logs, and across frozen streams. Nothing worked. 

The wolves were toying with me, enjoying the chase. Their barking laughter echoing through the forest along with my ragged gasping sobs. 

Tripping, I tumbled down a sharp embankment, breaking my left back leg and cracking my skull terribly in the fall. Dizzy with pain and unable to stand, I was going to be easy pickings for the three hungry predators slinking down towards me.

I cried and wept, shouting for my parents as the wolves drew closer until they surrounded me.

Terrified out of my young mind, I closed my eyes not wanting to see the wolves' hungry faces and frost blue glowing eyes.

And just as I was certain I was about to be eaten, he arrived, crashing through the low shrubs sounding a bugling war cry. I'll never forget the sight of him as he landed above me, legs spread for balance and his head held low. 

He was much larger than any pony besides the princess, his legs and body covered in armour tinted a dark green with bronze detailing in the shapes of bears running through twisting branches and leaves. He wore an open faced helm, a rack of antlers reaching up from his brow and his dark brown eyes burning with uncontained rage at the wolves. From my position I couldn't see his Mark, or if he even had one. 

The wolves hesitated only a moment, then they leapt towards my would-be saviour. The first he caught on his steel tipped antlers, the sharpened metal tearing into the elemental's chest and neck. Tossing his head high, my rescuer hurled the wolf through the air, the beast shattering into shards of ice when it struck the stout trunk of a pine. The two remaining wolves struck from either side, their icy teeth searching for a crack or fault in the green and bronze armour he wore. With a pulse of greenish-white magic, both wolves were forced back and my saviour again lowered his head, hooves pawing at the ground as he snorted in anger.

Out of the shadows another Halla emerged, a bemused smirk showing beneath his helmet. He began to taunt the wolves, his voice deep as the roots of the trees. Unlike the Halla that had saved me, his posture was relaxed almost to the point of carelessness. But his antlers glinted with the same steel tips and he wore identical armour. Puffing out his broad chest the new Halla again taunted the wolves. 

Turning tail, the remaining wolves disappeared back into the forest, unwilling to risk injury or death for the sake of a wounded filly, not when easier food was nearby. 

It was at that point exhaustion, shock, and the effects of adrenalin leaving my system sent me falling into the deep black of a dreamless sleep.




    


"Do you know what those two were saying?" a voice gentle as the rolling spring hills surrounding Sparkledale asked. 

Broken from her reverie induced by the story, Velvet looked over to the door and found Shining Armour leaning against the frame. Velvet gave her son a bittersweet smile, old faded tears resting in her eyes. 

"No, Shiny. Both died before I ever saw them again. I never even learned why they had rescued me. I wish I had been given the chance to thank them myself."

Shining Armour seemed unmoved, though those that knew him well understood that it was a combination of his training and his desire to always seem strong that gave his face a cold demeanour. Pushing off the doorframe he crossed the room to give his mother a hug. 

"I met a Halla, once," Tyr said between sneezes. 

"Oh, did you," Cadence's words danced with bemusement. 

The sick filly just nodded her head quickly, then broke down into a fit of groans as she grabbed her head. "Ugh, how do mortals put up with disease? Hecate, help me and this body." Wiping her nose with a warm cloth, she asked, "What happened next?"

Taking a deep breath, Velvet fell back into her story, Shining joining the herd on the bed, Cadence leaning into his shoulder and wrapping a hoof around his leg.




    


I slept in fitful spurts that night, coming to awareness several times before Celestia brought the dawn. Each time I saw a different Halla standing over me. One time I was brought screaming awake when they set my leg, only to drift back to sleep immediately.

As the sun shone down from high overhead, slanting through a small window, I finally woke properly. My entire body ached, but I was alive at least. From my leg I felt only a dull throb. It was my heart that hurt the most. 

I had no idea what had happened to my parents, and I clung to the faint hope that maybe they had escaped and were looking for me. But the fear and worry that they hadn't survived and I was alone among strangers refused to leave. Unable to hold back the dread clinging to me, I cried.

A board creaking made me lift my tear stained face and finally examine my surroundings.

I was in a smallish room of plain wooden logs. Bits of moss hung down from the ceiling and a simple lantern hung beside a featureless door. I was laying on a cot covered with a blanket that smelled strongly of mildew. At the foot of my cot sat a bench, and on the bench was an old Halla hind.

This was the first really good look I had of the Halla, and my eyes were drawn to the hind. She was larger than I expected, with a broad chest, thick powerful neck, and a rack of antlers. Her coat was a muddy brown and she had a mane of silver hair that flowed like a waterfall, and a short stubby tail. But what I found most interesting was her cutie mark. It was all sharp lines and sweeping curves of white in the image of a howling wolf. My young mind tried to figure out what special talent or skill a howling wolf would mean.

"You're awake," the hind said in heavily accented Equestrian, standing from the bench to trot over to my side. Her hoof brushed aside my mane as she checked my eyes and forehead. "Tis good to see you awake at last, little one."

She gave me a faint smile as I shifted around on the cot, one that fast became a scowl that could freeze warriors in their tracks when I tried to stand.

"No, no, little one. Your leg needs time to mend, else you become lame."

'Lame', the word stabbed my heart as deep as the worry for my parents. I had seen a lame, older pony once. I had pitied the way he had trouble walking and how he couldn't run or jump. My fear must have been evident on my face as the hind wrapped me into a hug and made calming noises deep in her throat.

"Shh, shh, little one, no need for worry now. You are safe, and your leg will mend given time. You just lay down and rest. I will go tell the Eagle that you are awake."	

Mute with fear and confusion, I just laid back down, being extra careful of my broken leg. Terrified of becoming lame as much as my parents being missing, I made sure to listen to the old Halla hind. After she left me I laid in silence for several minutes before she returned with a large Halla bull.

"So, this is the unicorn foal from the invaders?" the bull Halla asked in his native tongue, nostrils flaring as he snorted and glared down on me. Shivering a little at the intense dislike being directed my way I tried to slink deeper into the old covers. "Why my eldest thought to save such a pathetic thing, I cannot fathom."

"You are scaring the poor thing. Can you not see she is but a filly? She is hurt, scared, confused, and not a threat. Whatever you and the other Eagles may believe."

"Pah! The Bears should have let the ice elementals have their meal. They had earned it fairly."

"It is not in a Bear's nature to refuse battle nor to let an innocent die," the old hind pointed out, a dark frown making her eyes crinkle.

Snorting again, the bull continued to glare. "Not innocent. They sought the Queen. None but looters and treasure seekers cross the Fangs of the North. We have nothing else the ponies deem of value. Not gems nor metals nor can they grow their crops up here."

"Oh, I am sure that Mother Earth has many of those things you listed hidden in her bosom throughout the Taiga," laughed the hind. 

During their conversation I looked from one speaker to the next completely baffled by their strange dancing language. The Halla rolled their 'R's and drew out their 'I's creating a rich musical sound that alternated continual between deep burrs and high lilting notes. It is one of my favourite languages to speak, up there with Prench and Buffalo. Equestrian is plain and boring in comparison. But I did not yet understand the Halla, and so I continued to try to hide in the rotten covers they'd provided.

"So, One Horn," the bull said switching to barely understandable Equestrian. "Did you seek the Queen? Did you seek to again unleash her upon all the Seven Races?"

"Q-queen? The Queen of the Halla? Um... Y-yes? I think?"

The bull laughed in triumph, stamping a large hoof and tossing his head as he bugled.

"See, Blue Winter, she even admits they sought the Queen."

"Oh, shush, she doesn't understand the question. She thinks with the ideals of the ponies and their flawless princesses," Blue Winter snapped to the bull, then to me she asked, "Tell me, little one, what do you know of the Queen?" 

"N-nothing," I whimpered. "F-Father told stories of an a-ancient Queen. B-but she would be l-long dead. He'd hoped to find and speak to your c-current Queen, Ma'am."

"And I hope you see," Blue Winter countered back at the bull, her face contorted into victory. "The ponies believe she died centuries ago. They don't know the truth. And if they did, do you think any of them would cross the mountains and look for her?"

"Yes. It is in the Ponies nature to try to control. Look at how they bend Sky and Earth to their whim. If they knew of the Queen, they would seek her out." The bull snorted, his small black eyes boring into me. I could feel his anger and hatred rolling over me like the damp old blankets I clutched desperately too for protection. Too young to understand why he hated me, all I knew was that he did. "We cannot let this viper stay in our midst. She is a danger to us all with every breath she draws."

"That is your right to believe, however wrong you are," snorted a third Halla from the doorway. Switching to Equestrian as he stepped into the room, the new speaker asked, "So, this is the little one creating a commotion?"

He stepped around the other two Halla without hesitation, owning the small room with his presence despite being shorter than Blue Winter. His once grime-black mane was flecked with white, as was the long combed beard perched just below his large nose.  Around his neck sat a thick chain of silver with a clasp engraved with a flying raven, small garnets set into the metal as eyes. Bunched around his shoulders was a simple grey cloak, the hood pulled back. On his antlers were hung feathers and charms, gold bands sitting snug at the base of his prongs. 

"I am in agreement with Mistress Blue Winter of the Wolf Lodge, as are the rest of Raven Lodge, this filly is no danger or threat to the Halla, and certainly not the Queen," the new Halla said, giving me a smile a grandfather would give his grandfoals. Soft white-green light flickered along his antlers, a similar light grabbing hold of my blanket and gently pulling it away from my desperate grasp. Whimpering and confused why he was taking away my only protection, I looked between the Halla. I quickly found the blanket replaced by his cloak, the soft woolen cloth far warmer and comforting than the old blanket could have ever been. As he swapped the blanket for his cloak, he said in his native tongue, "The Ravens will take full responsibility for her actions, if it will bring you comfort. Or are the Eagles so stubborn and afraid of a foal that they would murder her through heartlessness?"

"That is not the issue! For sixteen centuries we have guarded the Queen. I will not broke any threat to her."

Face contorting into a sneer, Blue Winter leapt back into the argument, snarling, "Listen to yourself and then look at her! What possible threat could she be? Her herd is gone because of us."

"Not because of us. Because they tromped about places no pony should tread. It was the Taiga that took away her herd, not us," roared the old bull in response, his bellow driving me deeper beneath the cloak and shivering with fright. "Crisp Winds, you know our oaths are first and foremost to Protect the Queen."

"You may be able to comfort yourself with the delusion that it was the Taiga and duty that killed the interlopers, as it has done every pony, griffon, or buffalo that has crossed the pass, but you know it is a lie. We should have turned them back, not left them abandoned and alone." Turning his back to the Eagle, Crisp Winds surrounded his antlers with magic again, gently lifting me from the cot. "I am taking the foal to the Raven Lodge, there she will be—,"

"I forbid it!" The Eagle slammed his hooves onto the old wooden floors, his nostrils flaring, rage burning like the flames of Tartarus in his eyes. 

Crisp Winds slowly shook his head, a sad frown playing at his lips as he gently deposited me on Blue Winter's back. Slowly he turned to the larger Halla, his jaw set as his magic become cold and deadly. 

"I no longer recognise you, brother, that you would sentence a filly to death just because she is not of the Halla. Try to stop us, and I will defend this little one as if she were my own."

"Bright Briar, Husband, do the right thing," Blue Winter said, shifting her posture so that I was further away from the angry bull Halla. 

Shocked by the cold fury in Crisp Winds' voice and the gentle pleading in Blue Winter's, he shot me one last look of dark rage before turning and stomping from the room. 

"Mark my words, she will be our downfall!" 

His final words, purposefully in Equestrian, echoed through the Hall as he left. Confused by the nonsensical shouting match, I just shivered in fright on my protector's back. 




    


"Velvet, look," Cadence whispered, her soft tone forceful enough to snap the mare from her memories and story.

Blinking away the old images, Velvet looked over to see Tyr sleeping, her small chest rising and falling in slow rhythmic motions. A matronly grin on her face, Velvet gently kissed her foster grand-daughter on the brow before slipping off the bed. Cadence and Shining both repeated the gesture before the three closed the curtains and gently slipped from the room before shutting the door with a soft little click.
> Part Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Two

Tyr dug her hooves into the loose soil of Sparkle Manor's garden and felt... nothing. Gone were the little sensations and tingles that hinted at the aether flowing through the world's ley lines. The world felt so much duller, and Tyr wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the change. She didn't want to become accustomed to the emptiness, but she was already beginning to forget what it had felt like to touch the essence of the ground. 

Subconsciously she rubbed a hoof along her back, scratching at the fur between where her wings had once been. 

Stepping away from the flowerbed, Tyr made her way towards where Velvet and Comet sat beneath the shelter of a gazebo. Her small hooves scuffed and kicked at the ground as she walked towards where the two younger, yet older, ponies sipped their afternoon tea and read the Canterlot Chronicle. A sneeze bursting from the filly's nose followed by a groan made the two look up and towards the disturbance.

"Tyr, what are you doing out of bed," Velvet scolded, though her voice held little in way of reproach. Rather, she laughed a little, a slight titter she covered with a hoof before patting a cushion beside her in invitation. 

"I was bored, and lonely," Tyr responded as she clambered onto the soft seat. 

"Does your mother know you've snuck out of the manor?" Comet asked, his gaze already returning to the sports section of the paper. Before Tyr could respond, he gave a displeased grunt that made her ears flick backwards. "I can't believe it, Vel. We lost to those trumped up jackanapes from Appleloosa. How some frontier town put together a Hoofball team, I can't fathom for the life of me. This has been the worst season yet, and it only just begun. At this rate old Lateral Pass is going to have to be forced to retire. New blood, that's what we need, new blood!"

Comet finished his short tirade with a snort, paper tossed aside as he gripped his tea and took a hearty sip. 

"Now, come out with it," he then said, ire redirected towards the newest addition at the table. "It's impolite to keep ponies waiting."

Tyr had to bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from snapping back. He may be rude and not technically part of her herd, since herds were matrilineal in nature. At least, Tyr was fairly certain that particular detail remained the same. Her mother, her real mother, had taught her to be smart and patient as the river that would carve away the land. Not just lash out in anger.  

It turned out Tyr didn't even need to defend herself as Velvet grabbed the paper, rolled it tight, and then swatted her husband across the muzzle. Tyr and Comet both stared at Velvet with eyes almost bulging out of their heads.

"Dear, I know Halla shock spells..."

Velvet's voice was precisely controlled, her eyes not lifting from her own paper as she abandoned the improvised weapon. After a few moments, she glared over her paper towards her husband.

"Understood, love," Comet said, a note of contrition filling the simple words. "My apologies, Princess Tyr," he added, offering the filly a sharp bow of his head.

"Apology accepted," Tyr said, sniffing a bit as her nose ran.

Continuing to read, Velvet picked a hoofkerchief from the table and wiped Tyr's nose before the filly could protest. 

"So, little one, does your mother know you are out here?" Velvet asked as she set paper and reading glasses aside. 

"My mother doesn't even..." Tyr began, her voice trailing off as she saw the already exasperated look Velvet carried like a lance. "No, she doesn't," she said before another sneeze shook her.

Nodding slowly, Velvet glanced towards the manor, then said to her husband, "Dear, could you be a sweetheart and tell the Princess where Tyr has gotten herself." 

Comet Chaser began to bristle, his mouth opening to argue, but was swiftly intercepted by a look that could send Timberwolves scampering for the darkest parts of the Everfree.

Tyr shivered a little at the dangerous smile Velvet gave Comet, as if daring him to test her threat. He seemed to honestly consider calling her bluff, but then he just gave a sigh of disappointment and trotted off towards the manor. As he moved away, Tyr heard him mutter, "I'll see if Shining wants to play some cards. Much better company."

Once the door snapped shut at his tail, Tyr turned back to Velvet, a frown tugging at her face as she regarded her foster grandmother.  

"You know Halla elemental magic?" Tyr asked, deciding that anything was better than talking about the here-and-now, or worse yet, why she had decided to sneak out of the manor. Ponies, Tyr had learned, had a deep fascination with knowing where she was at all times. They were worse than the priestesses in the Citadel of Light. At least they knew better than to talk to her unless spoken to first. 

A familiar sharp pang of loss jabbed into Tyr as thoughts and memories of her old home briefly surfaced. Velvet, probably recognising the expression, gave Tyr a sad smile as she picked up one of the tea pots sitting in the middle of the table and poured a cup out for the filly. 

"Here, drink this, slowly. It is very hot. It'll help with the congestion and the aches."

Silently Tyr took the small cup in her equally small hooves and lifted it to her lips. She hissed and almost dropped the cup as the searing hot liquid burned lip and tongue.

"Slowly, love, slowly," Velvet sighed, taking the cup back and placing it on the table. After tending to Tyr, she leaned back on her cushion, lifting her head up to stare at the pegasi moving clouds about in preparation for a light rain in the evening. "So, you want to hear more of my story, yes?"

Tyr just nodded, tongue still protesting its ill treatment from her carelessness.

"Well, I was taken from what I later learned was the Eagle Lodge..."



    

Eagle Lodge was old, and it showed in the partially rotten timbers throughout the Hall. Crisp Winds and Blue Winter carried me out of the hall, the few apprentices of the Lodge watching me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. They, like Bright Briar, saw me as a threat to the peace and stability that the Halla had known for countless generations. 

The sun stung my eyes as we stepped into her harsh afternoon glare, and for a few moments I just peered through the doorway between my past and future like I was a Janus. 

I had developed many expectations of the Halla from Father's stories. I used to dream of their towns and cities. Sometimes I imagined that they lived in giant hollow trees that stood as tall as mountains, roads and pathways formed from woven branches. Other times I pictured simpler affairs closer to the Buffalo of the Mild West, with tents and open campfires that the Halla would gather around as they shared their oral history. 

The reality was far different.

My first sight was of Reinalla, a fortress-palace of thick granite walls perched on a low hill overlooking two small rivers, both barely more than streams. The walls looked to have been molded or poured, and from the outside gave an impression of being a sheer cliff. Inside the walls sat the Eagle Lodge. The part I'd been kept in was tucked away and to the side, an aging building sagging under the weight of its history. The majority of the lodge mirrored the walls, presenting a strong, stone face, with simple windows and a sod roof. 

In the middle of the Lodge's wide arms sat a simple stone garden, and at the garden's heart was a statue. Her wings were spread wide, a look of serenity and calm on her face, as if she was listening to the most beautiful song ever sung. Her mane was thrust back, like a billowing wind touched her face.

"Why do you have a statue of the Princess?" I naively asked from Winter's back.

Neither Winter nor Crisp so much as glanced towards the statue, the former saying, "That is not your Sunbringer, little one."

"Oh... So it is the Namegiver then," I reasoned. 

"No." Crisp Winds shook his head. "It is not the Namegiver either."

Tapping my chin, I considered the statue some more as we approached Reinalla's gatehouse. Just before we passed under the hewn stone arch, I asked, "Is she Nightmare Moon?"

"No."

"Well, who is she then?" I demanded with a petulant huff.

"She is our Queen," Winter sighed, turning her head to look over her shoulder at me. "She once brought the Spring and looked after the foals. That was long ago. So very long ago."

"Oh," I said back, shrinking a little under the weariness tugging at her eyes, a weariness born by generations.

I remained silent the rest of the trip. 

From the fortress we came down a short hill and into the town.

Hoofbridges crossed the rivers and the paths and roads winded and swirled through the town. Log homes were interspersed with older stone buildings. No matter their age or the differences in their construction, every building was built around the forest and the gentle, rolling hills. Balconies and gazebos were everywhere, with Halla sitting on wide benches as they ate, conversed, or played Humtha —that's a type of combination card and board game, dear— as they took in the chill afternoon day. Near the end of a broad lane sat a pair of tall structures, their stone sides painted black and white in swirling and looping patterns that dazzled and confused the eye while large windows, closed against the chill northerly breeze, let in light.

Blue Winter barely paused as she trotted down the street towards the later buildings. 

All around us other Halla stopped what they were doing to stare at me. A stunned silence followed us as my caretakers carried me up to the wide double doors and into the first of the tall, painted buildings. 

Where the Eagle Lodge had been weathered with time and age, Raven Lodge was all newness and crisp, the air filled with the scents of rough cut wood and fresh grass used for the thatched roof. The only things that showed any age were the scrolls and book filled shelves that covered almost every available space on the walls. Occasionally there'd be a break, a ponyquin garbed in odd armour or robes in the spot. A set of stairs lead up to a second floor, while the entrance hall continued all the way to the back of the building, doors placed in even intervals along both walls.

I felt a wave of nostalgia and homesickness twist my insides as I gazed in wonder at the familiar surroundings. In turn memories of better days leapt forward to torment me as I again felt so small and alone, lost so far from my herd, from my parents. 

"Welcome to the Raven Lodge!" Crisp Winds proclaimed, making a sweeping gesture with a hoof. Raising his voice, he then called out, "Come, everyelk! We have an honoured guest to our Lodge!"

At once there was the dull thudding of hooves and a trio of bright flashes. Letting out a miniature shriek, I tried to hide further behind Blue Winter's neck and head. The flashes turned out to be teleportation spells, identical triplets that stood in the center of the Hall with antlers raised in a haughty pose while the other Ravens clambered from rooms, down the stairs, or leapt over the second floor railing. In short order the entire lodge had gathered, two dozen Halla all standing in a loose group.

"Greeting, Grandmaster Crisp Winds, Mistress Blue Winter," the Halla said as one.

"As I am sure you've all heard, and divined, by now, Reinalla has a very special guest," Crisp Winds said without preamble, pacing slowly in front of the gathered Halla. "She is new to the Taiga and unused to the forest's, and our, ways. I want you all to treat her with respect, courtesy, and fairness. Am I understood?"

Again in unison, the Halla said, "Yes, Grandmaster!"

"Good," Crisp Winds gave a soft glare down the end of his nose. Switching to Equestrian, he continued, "Now, please step forward and meet Velvet Sparkle, twelfth Baroness of Sparkledale."

I had no time to be surprised that Crisp Winds knew of my heritage, or that he assumed my mother was dead, as one by one the members of Raven Lodge took a step forward, bending a knee and lowering their nose almost to the floor while introducing themselves. The only change was when the triplets introduced themselves. They moved as one, spoke as one, and laughed as one.

"Very good," Crisp Winds said as the last stepped back. "You may return to your studies." Turning to Blue Winter he added, "If you wish, you can return to your own lodge, Mistress Blue Winter, we'll see to her safety and comfort."

"Aye, I best be getting back. The other Mistresses will be having their hooves full with the yearlings," Blue Winter agreed. Lowering herself before me, she leaned forward and gave me a brief nuzzle. "Now, you be taking care, understand? Listen to the Grandmaster and mind yourself."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, my unease clearly showing in my fidgeting hooves and the quivering in my voice. 

After Blue Winter had left, I was lead upstairs and settled into a comfortable, if slightly small, room.

I wouldn't leave it again for almost five months except to eat and tend to my physical needs.



    

"They kept you prisoner?" Tyr gasped, thumping her hooves onto the table and almost upsetting her cold tea.

"What? Celestia, no!" Velvet laughed. "The triplets in particular were always trying to get me to leave my room, but I was too sad to leave, my dear."

"Why?"

"Because, I had lost my parents and I was all alone surrounded by strangers. I just wanted things to go back to being the way they had been before; when we lived here, in Sparkle Manor." Velvet gave a wistful smile, waving to Princess Cadence as she left the manor. She then gave Tyr a wholly significant look. "I am sure it is a feeling you can appreciate." 

"Yes, I can," Tyr mumbled, fiddling with her hooves.



    

It was Autumn when I finally decided to leave my room. 

Crisp Winds was instrumental in breaking me out of the shell I had created. Everyday that season he would come into my room and just sit beside my bed. Often he would bring a book and read it to himself, though he had a habit of muttering the words so I would overhear. Some days he would talk about an upcoming festival or event, such as the Harvest Trade, where the wandering Halla would return to the towns. There they would exchange goods and services, and even herd members, in preparation of the long winter. 

I would hardly react in either case. Head resting on my goose down pillows, I would stare through the window at the meandering sun and pray to Celestia that my father and mother would walk through the door. 

The few birches outside my window had become a blaze of oranges and reds when Crisp Winds marched into my room. 

"Come, get up," he commanded, his antlers glowing as he tore back my covers and heaped them on the floor. "It has been too many months of this foolishness."

"No! Sleep. Not wander." I countered with the little Halla I'd begun to pick up as I tried to bury my head under my pillow.

That protection, too, was stripped away, and soon I was being hefted up and carried down and out of the lodge. I kicked and screamed, cursing Crisp Winds in both our languages as tears flooded from my eyes. Thrusting open the lodge's doors, Crisp Winds didn't slow down. 

Reinalla was bustling with activity that day, the last of the Harvest Trade. Cutting through gawking crowds, he carried me all the way to the Badger Lodge. 

The crafters were out in force, showing off tools to sell, or haggling their services to repair. Sitting me down near several bolts of cloth, all autumn colours, he called to a Journeyelk to find his Master or Mistress. 

The Mistress soon arrived, several pincushions bobbing on her antlers like apples on a tree. She hardly looked at me as she approached, her eyes showing large bags underneath. 

"Grandmaster Crisp Winds, a pleasure and a delight. What can I get for you? Some silk from Marabia, perhaps? Found in a shipwreck along the eastern ice flows. All good quality." The Mistress gave a hopeful smile, but it floundered when Crisp Winds gave a slight shake of his head.

"I'm not here for myself, but for the guest of Raven Lodge, Lady Velvet Sparkle. She has nothing to wear for the winter."

"Nothing at all? Poor wee filly." The Mistress clicked her tongue as she considered me. "So; boots, cloak, perhaps some underclothes as well. Ponies don't handle the Taiga so well, not at the height of winter, when the blizzards sweep down from the north to chill elk and beast alike. A scarf of thick wool, as well. Wolf fur for the cloak, or perhaps the Arctic Fox would be better." 

"She will also need a ceremonial dress for the Brou'alla."

The Mistress stopped in her muttered planning, her watery brown eyes slowly drifting up to Crisp Winds. I had managed to only catch a few words here and there, but had gathered enough that I was to get clothes of some sort. Her expression grew pinched, and I could tell she wanted to say something, but the cold, aloof indifference of Crisp Winds set her on the back of her hoofs. 

Eventually, she gave a bit of a sniff, curling her nose as if she'd smelled something rotten, and turning away said, "The Grand Eagle will not be pleased to see the One Horn at the Brou'alla."

"He doesn't need to be," Crisp Winds snorted, leading me up to a slightly raised workstation. 

The Mistress said very little as she took my measurements, just abrupt commands on where and how to stand, or lift my head. Crisp Winds haggled the price as I was being measured. It seemed an odd method of business, but kept silent as the Mistress worked, wilting beneath her hard eyes. By the time she was finished, my legs were sore and all I wanted was to crawl back into my bed. Not much of a change from the morning, in retrospect. 

At Crisp Winds' side, I trotted back to Raven Lodge, a bubble of silence following me as the visiting nomadic tribes stopped to watch me. Along the way we stopped at a stall set up in the shade of a covered wagon. 

"Ha-ha, my friend, good it is too see you!" jovially burst a voice rich and rolling with a resonating timbre. From behind the wagon stepped a truly massive Halla. A cloak of rich burgundy was draped over his frame while gold bangles and rings covered his neck and hung from his ears. His grass-yellow eyes were narrow, twinkling slits as he approached Crisp Winds. Lowering his head, he jumped forward the last yard, his and Crisp Winds antlers slamming together with a resounding 'crack'. "It has been too many seasons," he laughed as they stepped back. 

Then, turning to me, he switched to Equestrian, his accent containing a hint of the languid pace of the inner sea provinces, as he said, "So, this be the lass. Word spread to the nomads that Reinalla had taken in one of the forsaken One Horns, but I didn't believe it till now. What were you thinking, cousin?"

"I was thinking that I couldn't let a filly be tossed out into the Taiga to fend for herself." Crisp Winds scowled, one hoof striking the ground. "We have been blinded by fanaticism for sixty-two generations, allowing the same coldness that infected the Queen to imprison our judgement. It needs to end, cousin."

"Aye, I know, I know," the stranger agreed. Then he turned to me and gave a short bow, introducing himself, "Greetings, fair maiden of the Sunlands, I am Thundering Trumpet, Raven of the Kuppa'jo nomads."

"Velvet Sparkle," I replied, shying back and looking to Crisp Winds for some support. "Where did you learn Equestrian? Your accent is different than the others."

"Ha-ha! That is because I learned from a one-winged pegasus. He had tried to fly over the Crystalspines, and it had taken his flight as punishment. Found him living like a rabbit near Three Prong Lake, about a month's travel to the east. Had dug a snug home for himself in a hillside. I gave him food to last that winter in exchange for him teaching me the pony tongue. The wraiths found him sometime before the next fall, sadly. His home was in tattered ruins and his bones lay upon his cot when next I returned. I made a habit of using your tongue. Find it fascinating. You only have one word for 'winter', for instance. One! Ha-ha!"

"Yes, cousin, as fascinating as your adventurous youth was, we have more pressing concerns. What do you have to report on the other tribes?"

Thundering's humour dropped in a flash, his eyes growing dark as his voice became a low rumble of discontent.

“It is worse than you know. There is a foul wind sweeping the North. Word spreads of the dead leaving their burrows. There is fear that a Necromancer walks the Tiaga, a shade black as the night that corrupts the land with its presence.”




    


“Really, a Necromancer?” Cadence gave a little laugh, making Tyr’s head bop as it rested against her side. “I believe you are just making things up now. There hasn’t been a Necromancer since the end of the last age. Certainly, I’ve never heard of one in my entire life.”

“Why would you, your Highness?” Velvet gave a taught smirk. “Afterall, this was in the Taiga, and there has been not a word from that land until these last few weeks.”

“I suppose that is true,” Cadence conceded, taking a little sip from her luke-warm tea. Frowning at the cup, she cast a quick spell, returning it to a nice, steamy warmth.

“What’s a ‘Necromancer’?” Tyr asked, taking a moment to blow her nose. 

“You’ve never heard of a Necromancer?” Velvet feigned shock, pressing a hoof to her chest as she gave a sharp gasp. “You’ve never read ‘Daring Do and the Bones of Mount Guldur’?”

Slowly, Tyr shook her head, muttering, “We didn’t have the same books as you. Most are just history books. We did have a lot of plays, however.” 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that!” Cadence said with a little, bouncy laugh. “Twilight loved the Daring Do series, and the ‘Adventures of Doctor Whooves’, as well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them, too.”

“Maybe,” Tyr conceded, “But none of this tells me what a Necromancer is.” 

“A Necromancer summons the spirits of the Dead, dear,” answered a smooth voice, the tone lilting in that peculiar Canterlot way, as if through inflection alone the speaker was conveying total superiority. “The last known practitioner was Lord Bleak Harvest in the year 12 B.E. He, and his apprentices, were destroyed by Celestia at the battle of Gallows Pass.”

Velvet hardly stifled a sharp intake of breath as her head spun around, a wide, joyful grin stretching from the corners of her eyes. Walking along the grass wearing simple travelling bonnets and cloaks were a pair of unicorns very familiar about the manor.

“Whisper Runes! Glitterdust! What are you doing home so soon?” Velvet cried joyously as she stood up to embrace the two mares. “Comet is going to be delighted.”

The first, Whisper Runes, was a plain looking off-white mare with powder blue mane and eyes. Little crows feet showed in the corners of her smile as she and Velvet shared a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Glitterdust was rather attractive, her coat a purer white, and her mane alternating streaks of gold and magenta. Like Velvet and Whisper, her age showed in her periwinkle eyes and the tightness about her face. 

“I wasn’t expecting either of you for another fortnight. How is our little Twily? Still adjusting well, I hope.” 

“Twilight is Twilight, love,” Glitterdust giggled, her voice having a high, almost shrill, quality about it that most would have found irritating. “Half the time she looks like she’s about to yank out her own mane.”

“The other half she is yelling at somepony complaining about the change to the night sky. So, pretty much as we expected.” Whisper concluded as the mares all took seats around the table. “So, why are you telling our new grandfilly all about the dark arts, Vel?”

“Oh, that,” Velvet blushed, the blood making her cheeks go from grey to light purple. “I’ve been keeping her entertained with the story of my time in the Taiga.”

“Oh? Really! Oh, please continue! I’ve always been so dreadfully curious about those missing years of your life.” Glitterdust placed her chin on folded hooves and gave Velvet what could be equated to ‘foal eyes’, though the look lost some of its lustre coming from a mare in her thirties. "And you've always been so closed about it. Of course, you'll have to tell the foals. They're inside saying hello to their father. So, you'll have to be quick before they turn up and you're forced to repeat everything."

“Since I was going to continue the story regardless...” Velvet gave a teasing sniff, explaining the barest pertinent details so the two would not be too lost before delving back into her tale.



    

Crisp Winds and Thundering Trumpet continued for some time, talking the politics of the Taiga and sharing rumours and stories. I didn't pay attention, and only much later really understood that what they had been talking about that morning revolved around me. But, at the time, I was more concerned with watching a Snow Butterfly as it flitted and flapped about the wagon than listening to the adults. 

Following the butterfly, I trotted around the wagon, stopping only as I bumped nose to nose with a colt. His antlers were shrouded in a soft greenish glow as he lifted boxes up into the wagon, the magic sputtering and dying as his eyes widened at the sight of me. 

“I’m sorry. Playing.” I said in my broken Halla, my cheeks burning like the arid deserts of the Mild West. 

The colt frowned, his dark brown, almost black, eyes searching my face and trailing upwards to fixate on my horn, making me blush harder still.

“I’m not hurt, nothing is broken, I hope, so, apology accepted,” he said in a low, timid mutter as he picked up a box and placed it on the wagon. His accent was heavier than any other Halla I had met that spoke Equestrian. He had to repeat himself a couple times for me to understand what he was saying. 

“I’m Velvet, Velvet Sparkle,” I hesitantly said, offering a hoof as mother had shown me.

“I know,” the colt responded, not looking away from his work.

A few, tense moments of silence lingered before I said, “It’s polite to tell a pony your name when they give you theirs.” 

Giving me a look of incomprehension, I sighed and switched to Halla, saying, “I give name. You give name.”

“Growler.” He stated, hardly looking at me as he concentrated on the boxes. 

Seeing I was going to get little more out of him I started to wander back towards Crisp Winds, but stopped as something caught my eye. “You don’t have a Cutie Mark,” I said, pointing at his bare flank. 

“Huh? ‘Cutie Mark’?” Growler asked as he placed the last box among its fellows. 

“You know, your Mark! It shows your special talent.” I jabbed him a couple times on the flank, earning myself a scathing glare.

“So? I’ve not found my Fau’lla yet,” Growler shrugged, starting to walk away from me. 

“But... you were using magic!” I protested, giving an exaggerated wave towards the wagon and boxes. “Like it was easy.”

This caused Growler to stop and give me a perplexed stare. “You are One Horn. Can’t you use magic?” 

Instantly I was blushing again, my face puckering into a sour pout. “Unicorns can only do very little magic until we discover our special talents. Only the most powerful unicorns can do more than make their horns glow until then.”

“Really?” Growler took a couple steps closer, examining my horn in greater detail. “Master Trumpet says that the One Horns have the strongest magic. Much stronger than Halla. With spells that can, what is word... jump? Jump. Go from one place to another in poof.”

“Teleport,” I said, stifling a giggle as he struggled. “But Papa said only a few unicorns with talents related to magic can use that spell.” 

“So, you can’t tell-e-port, then?” Growler almost seemed sad as he asked the question.

Slowly I just shook my head, and said in a low voice, “I don’t have my Mark yet. But Mama always said that just meant I have potential. I can be anything, or do anything.”

“Hmm,” Gaining a distant glaze to his eyes, Growler looked off towards the hidden horizon. “How do One Horn’s get their Mark?”

Brightening up, I explained all about Cutie Marks; how they would just appear when a pony discovered their hidden talent or potential, how you would just know what it meant, and, for unicorns, how your magic would be unlocked. He listened calmly, asking only a few clarifications as I told him about some of the famous Cutie Marks, like Celestia’s sun, or Star Swirl the Bearded’s vortex of stars. I even managed to get him to laugh as I talked about all the little adventures me and my siblings would have looking for our Marks.

“Why have adventures?” Growler asked, laughter making his accent even thicker, “When you can just take the Brou’alla? It is tonight, and all the youngsters are allowed to participate. Adventures are messy and dangerous.”

“Crisp Winds mentioned something about a Brew-la,” I said. “What is it?”

Growler’s laughter dropped, and he gave me almost a pitying look. 

“The Brou’alla is when we find our Mark. You will see tonight. You must come.” 

He gave a forceful nod, and I was about to ask for clarification. I was so curious to know how the Brou’alla would help me find my Mark. Papa and Mama had always said that my Mark would come in time, and I needed to be patient. But before I could ask, the Triplets came around the wagon, their expressions of concern vanishing into relief upon seeing me.

“Lady Sparkle, We have been looking everywhere for you,” they said as one. 

“White, Red, and Violet,” I squeaked, my mane standing on end at their sudden appearance. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been chatting with my new friend.”

“While we’re certain that the Grandmaster will be pleased to see you making friends; he sent us to find you and bring you to the lodge so you may prepare for the—”

“Brou’alla,” I interjected, pleased that I didn’t mangle the word so badly this time.  Skipping towards the Triplets, I waved and said good-bye to my new friend. As we walked back to the lodge, I said, “Growler was telling me all about it. Do you think that Master Crisp Winds will let me take part?”

“We are certain he will, Little One,” they responded, sharing a secret smile among themselves.

Dinner that evening was a splendid affair. The entire lodge gathered, and for the first time in months I felt a sense of warmth. Even after all these years that meal is still so vivid in my memory. The evening sun hung above the tall windows, casting everything in a wonderful, auburn glow. Everyelk was filled with laughter, the Triplets leading the others on with their jokes. Most spent their time jesting and guessing which of the youths would find their marks, and which lodge they would join. More than a few had already changed from their drab blue-black robes into more festive, autumn toned clothes.

The food itself was even more surprising than the glow of the company. It was something I had never seen before, or tasted. Covering the table was roast cabbage swimming in a gravy sauce, something referred to as Figgy Dowdy, corn glazed in spiced butter, succulent brussels fried with pre-boiled potatoes, and several other dishes I couldn’t begin to describe. For drinks there was rye whisky for the Masters, while the journeyelk had a pale ale. My mug was mostly water, with only a hint of the ale and honey. The air was heady and full of the rich smells, and despite the cooked bird sitting at the heart of the display, I found my mouth watering as I heaped my plate high. 

As the last of the food was served, Crisp Winds stood, thumping an empty mug for attention. Like the others, he had replaced his robes, but instead of the fall tones, he wore a cloak of raven feathers. Perched upon his head, held firmly between his antlers was a mask made like the namesake of the lodge. 

“Attention, everyelk and pony, attention. Tonight is the Brou’alla, when the younglings follow in the hoofsteps of our ancestors. For the past cycle they have wandered with the old herds. The yearlings are weaned and have chosen their herds, and tonight those they replace will find their lodge. But before that, we feast! Before we feast, a few announcements. 

“Smoldering Pine has been accepted as the new Raven for the Putta’Ti Nomads. Also, the Kuppa’Jo and Flask’Ah are splintering to form a new herd. Eagle Perched Fir is leaving the Flask’Ah to lead this new herd, the Waki’Nin, and has selected the Triplets as his Raven, or I suppose Ravens, in this case. Congratulations, all of you. Do our Lodge proud, and be cunning and quick in your new homes.”

A ruckus roar of laughter and stomping of hooves followed the announcements, the mentioned elks’ friends all giving them heartfelt and sincere congratulations. To my left one of the Triplets blushed under the praise one of her peers gave her. Unaware of the significance, but seeing that it was important, I joined in, stamping my hooves and hollering at the top of my voice.

It was as the sun began to kiss the horizon and dip below Ioka’s disc that we were lead from the lodge and up towards the town’s square. 

The Halla of the lodge all wore cloaks adorned with black feathers and patterns of stern faced ravens. I wore the dress the Badger Mistress had made. 

It wasn't the grandest nor the most beautiful of dresses, but it had an honest, earthy elegance. The auburn fabric hugged my small frame, with slits positions in such a way as to show that I had no mark upon my flanks. The collar was high, and I remember it itched. In my mane the Triplets had braided a few leaves.

Apprehension had replaced my earlier joviality. I would have tried to turn and run back to my room, but pressed in by the Triplets, with Crisp Winds in front, and the rest of the Ravens behind, I was pushed forwards. Head hung low, I was unable to see anything besides the tails of dresses and legs until we reached the gathering. 

In a half circle stood all the adults and those too young to take part in the Brou’alla, except for the Grand-masters of the Lodges. Standing before the statue of their Queen, taken from the inner court of the castle, the Grand-masters were all dressed similar to Crisp Winds. It was like a group of were-ponies, or were-elk had stepped out of legend. Fox, Owl, Badger, Bear, Wolf, Eagle, and with Crisp Winds, Raven stood before the thousands of Halla. 

To one side, garbed in cloaks covered in frolicking foxes, was a band. Drums and pipes mixed together in a slow, almost droning sound that created a gentle blanket over the gathering. Stepping forward, the Grand Mistress of the Fox Lodge, a slight, almost willowy, hind raised her head towards the rising moon as shadows and stars embraced the world. From her rose a song, high and piercing before swooping into lingering, melancholy notes. Supported by a choir, she swayed from side to side, eyes closed as magic began to dance like silver-blue flames along her antlers, the crowd silenced by her voice.

I felt my cheeks grow damp, and I did not know why I cried, only that my heart felt profoundly weary. For those several minutes as the lament twisted through the elder pines of the Taiga, I wanted nothing more than for my mother to wrap me in her hooves and hold me again. 

As the last, tingling notes faded away like snow in the spring, the Grand-Mistress stepped back and Bright Briar took her place.

“Duty, Honour, Vigilance,” Bright Briar spoke the words with a slow force that made me want to cringe and hide behind the Triplets. “We are the Halla, and since the time of the Thaw, when the great mother, Ioka, she who holds the world upon her shell, was still young, these words have been our guiding light. When we faltered, the world slipped back into Ice and Shadow and our Queen was lost, not to just us, but to all the races. And so, since the time of our failing, when the second age of ice threatened to drown all beneath frozen tears and the Windigos rampaged unchecked, we have refused to waver again. The Queen in Stone remains safe from the world, and the world safe from her.”

Bright Briar retook his spot in the line of Grand-Masters, the head of the Owl lodge stepping forward.

“It is the time of the Brou’alla, the time for you of age to learn your role, to find your place, and to meet yourselves. Step forward, and become Halla.”

I found myself being pushed forward, and when I looked back I saw the Triplets giving me warm, comforting, and supporting smiles. Swallowing my anxiety, I skittered forward, keeping low between a couple of slightly older colts. Off to my left I saw Growler. He was wearing a fairly plain vest, and tugged at it occasionally as if it were too tight. 

Along with nearly a hundred youngsters, I stood before the Grand-Masters as the Grand Owl continued to speak.

“Will you be an Eagle, and learn to lead the fragments of Hir’Etirna? Will you be an Owl and give guidance and wisdom, preserving our history and upholding our traditions? Perhaps you are a Wolf, and it is your role to protect and safeguard the future. Are you a Bear, fierce and proud warriors of the Taiga, seeking out the enemies of the Halla? Maybe it is the Fox that calls to you, beauty and music coursing through your veins, song and dance and laughter ever in your heart? Or, is it the Badger where you belong, crafting goods, and maintaining the relics and lodges. If none of these speak to you, it may be the Raven where you belong, studying and discerning the mysteries of magic.”

As the Grand Owl spoke several journeyelk of the Owl lodge moved through the crowd carrying draughts. To each youngster they gave a single sip before moving on. When the journeyelk reached me he gave me a cold glare, but offered his cup. Hesitantly, I took a sip, fire and ice leaping across my tongue. A warm, fuzzy haze spread through me, my eyes fluttering shut while the last of the Grand Owls words faded into shadow.

For a short eternity there was nothing but a slow, rhythmically pounding drum and an endless expanse of emptiness neither black nor white, just nothingness. I tried to step forward, but found my legs refused to answer. I tried to call out for Crisp Winds or the Triplets, but my voice was silent. 

Then a sound reached my ears, a gentle pat-pat-pat of paws. The pounding drum began to speed as the paws drew nearer, and it was then I recognised the drum as the sound of my own heart. 

Out of the emptiness emerged a She-Wolf, her fur a glistening white with a patch of gold between her ears. Eyes blue as the summer sky considered me as the drumbeat slowed. I can not explain why, but I knew no fear of this wolf as she approached, towering above me as she regarded my small form. 

“Velvet Sparkle,” the She-Wolf said in words that were not words, her voice both silent and echoing like the crash of a storm tossed ocean. “Long has it been since I have seen one of the Unicorns standing before me.”

The She-Wolf began to pace around me, taking my measure with cold deliberation. Questions bubbled in my throat, but none found voice.

“I see a past scarred by fangs. You’ve known loss, and you will know loss again before you can leave the Taiga. You’ve known joy, and you will know joy again before you’ll again walk the fields protected by She of the Sun. Yours is a cruel fate, to be a mother, but to not be a mother. It is among the Wolf you belong.”

“Lies and truth! She is a Wolf, but also more than a Wolf!” Screeched another voice. 

From above descended a great raven, the bird spinning over the wolf as she cawed.

“She is also of the Raven; magic is in her veins running deep and strong. Mysteries and secrets of Ioka will be laid bare before her, and she will pass them on. Spells not seen for an age will be hers to command. It is among the Raven she belongs.”

The raven gave a stern flick of her wings as it landed between the wolf and I. 

“She is more than even the two of you.” rumbled a third voice, and out of the nothingness stepped a bear tall as the mountains, her fur rolling over her colossal frame. “Velvet Sparkle is a Bear. Foes will be laid bloody and torn beneath her hooves, struck low by unflagging courage. She has seen evil, and, in time, she will refuse to let it take root and steal from others as it stole from her. It is among the Bear she belongs.”       

The three spirits looked towards me, and in turn they spoke.

“Wolf!”

“Raven!”

“Bear!”

As one they continued.

“You are all of us, and we are all in you. Three guiding stars, three purposes. Not at odds, but in unity. We are your Mark. Know us, and know yourself.”

Their voice still echoing across the empty expanse, the three began to fade away. Upon my flank I felt a cool touch, like the caress of an icy winter wind whistling down the Canterhorn. As it passed, the nothingness grew up and swallowed me too. 

> Part Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Three


“You got your soul-mark by drinking a potion?” Tyr gave Velvet an incredulous look.

Laughing, Velvet said, “Well, in a manner of speaking—”

“Do you know how to make it?” Tyr leaned on the table, her large eyes shining with enhanced eagerness. 

Velvet was momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in Tyr’s demeanor. Taking a sip of her tea, she made a calming motion with her hooves. Velvet hated what she was about to say. Crushing a filly’s hopes always left a sour lump in her throat. 

Carefully she set her tea back down as she said, “No, my dear, I’m afraid I don’t.” The hope draining from Tyr’s eyes had the predictable effect on Velvet. “And even if I did, would you want to take it? Would you want to be a Fox?”

“I think she’s more likely to be a Badger,” Glitterdust giggled, reaching over to tickle Tyr. “Yeah, you look like you’d like to live in a nice little hole in the ground.”

“Ha-ha, quit it.” Tyr tried her best to look angry as a fit of giggles burst from her throat, her hooves trying to fend off her foster grandaunt. “I said quit it! You don’t tickle a goddess!” 

“Oh-ho, really?” Glitterdust redoubled her efforts. “I’ll have you know Twilight loved my tickle attacks!” 

“Glitter, she probably isn’t used to being tickled.”

“Nonsense, all little fillies get tickles!” 

“Glitter!” Velvet and Whisper snapped at the same time. 

Retreating from Tyr, Glitterdust gave a sulking look. “Was just having fun with my grand-filly. It might be ages before we get another.” 

“Oh, you never know.” Velvet’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “There is this pretty mare that I think Two-Step may like." 

Velvet would have added more, but Whisper gave a disagreeing frown. It was a normal joke around Sparkle Manor that Velvet was always trying, and failing, to arrange marriages for the younger Sparkles. Usually it was used to tease first Twilight, then later her half-sisters, Limelight and Pennant. In recent years, Star, Elegant, and Melody, all Glitterdust's daughters, had become the subject of such teasing. It was a practice that had never sat well with Whisper, however. Instead of pressing the old joke, Velvet turned a smile on Cadence. 

"Or, Shining might take a second or third wife.”

“Not sure I’m a sharing mare.” Cadence smiled wolfishly, adding after a moment, “Anymore. Too many bad experiences. I am thinking of trying out monogamy.”

The spirit around the table dampened, the three herd-wives all sharing sad glances. They’d all secretly hoped that Cadence and Shining would take on a second, and perhaps even third, wife. They held no illusions that Cadence would give them a grandfoal. The princess had been married many times over the centuries, and not once had she had a foal of her own. Tyr was the closest she had come, besides a few step-foals. The legacy of these past marriages still existed in ‘Prince’ Blueblood, the Duke of Vanchester.. 

“What happened next, grandmother?” Tyr asked. Her high pitched voice brought all the mares out of their grey thoughts. 

“Well, there was a lot of arguing, hoof pointing, and name calling. In the end it was decided I would be apprenticed to all three Lodges, spending a year at one before moving to another.” Velvet slipped back into the story as if it was a comfortable dress, eager for the excuse not to have to deal with thoughts about her son and daughter-in-law’s potential foals. “With the Wolves I learned how to deal with squabbling younglings and adults. The Ravens taught me their magic, naturally. And the Bears, oh the Bears... It was with them I became re-acquainted with River Growler.”   

“Oh, I sense romance in the wind,” Glitterdust gave a dramatic sigh. “Thrust into the unknown, alone and confused, surrounded by the strange and ruggedly handsome barbarians of the north. You see him, his mane taken by a slight breeze so it rustles as if a honey coloured cloak.  You’re eyes meet, and you just—”

Falling onto her side, Tyr let out a peel of hiccuping laughter followed by several sneezes.

“Oh dear, you okay, love?” Cadence asked, helping Tyr back onto her cushion and offering a hoofkerchief to blow her nose.   

“Y-yeah,” Tyr mumbled, trying to brush Cadence away with little success.

“Poor thing, is everything alright?” Whisper asked, looking between her wives, daughter-in-law, and foster grandfilly. 

“A cold bug, is all,” Velvet said, watching with care as Cadence took a thin shawl and wrapped it around Tyr’s neck and withers.

“This time of year?” Whisper lifted a brow, but didn’t press further, though the slight pinch between her eyes told Velvet that Whisper was very concerned. “Maybe we should take her inside? The wind is out of the north today and has a bit of a bite to it.” 

“No!” Tyr protested instantly, “I want to hear more of the story.”

“It is still rather pleasant out.” Glitterdust smiled, leaning down towards Tyr. “We’ll make a deal with you. Vel will tell more of her story for a bit while we have lunch, then to bed. How does that sound?”

“Sounds okay, I guess,” Tyr mumbled around a pout.

“‘Sounds okay... what?’”

“Grandmother Glitterdust.”

“That’s better.” Glitterdust gave a smile of supremely smug satisfaction.

“That sounds good to me. How about you two?” Velvet looked to Whisper, and especially Cadence. Tyr was her daughter, after all.

“I agree,” Cadence said, ending the discussion decisively with a quick addendum. “But if you start getting worse, I want you in bed toot-sweet.”

With things settled, Velvet decided where to pick her story back up. With a smile, she knew where.







Three falls passed in my apprenticeships. During that time I was like Twilight or Whisper, my nose forever stuck in a book or lesson. Never did I find the time to make friends beyond the few other apprentices I encountered, and they were always stand-offish. Like Twilight, I was an overachiever. I had to be twice as good as any other Halla, otherwise I was just that poor, little pony. 

Winter was the worst. I bundled myself in layer upon layer of thick wool comforters and a cloak of wolf-hide. Meanwhile, the halla needed only a simple cloak to stave off the deep, winter chill. Whenever I left the Lodges to go to the market or read a book by the ice-covered creek I was watched by pitying eyes. None were hostile, not anymore. I may have been a unicorn, but I was also Halla, and for all but the Eagles, that was enough. But acceptance is not friendship. 

I grew up over those years. I lost my lanky appearance of my foalhood and blossomed into who I am today; a strong, confident, and headstrong mare. 

Unable to fight as the majority of Halla do, ramming steel tipped antlers into my foe, I had to learn the old art of the Dragoons. Few other Halla bothered to learn the proper way to wield sword, spear, and shield.

It was for these skills that I was approached during the Brou’alla with a query to join one of the nomadic herds. Over the past year they had lost seven members to Frost Wolves, Dire Bears, and, the worst of all, the Draugen. Me and a few other members of the Bear lodge were asked to join. My knowledge of magic and dealing with younglings also helped.

The day after the festival I stood at the enchanted menhir gate. Freestanding, stone blocks, the menhir are magically linked to a hundred others throughout and around Reinalla. Together, they keep the dangers of the forest away from the homestead. 

When I agreed to join the nomads I was been told to pack only the absolute essentials. Everything I owned was on my back. My light, embossed armour —the most loyal companion of any Bear— sat beneath my wolf cloak, hugging my lithe frame. On my left side hung the sword I had been given during my apprenticeship, a simple steel blade devoid of pomp and flash, while on my right sat a kite shield over my saddle-bags. Inside the bags were two days of rations, a small medical kit, sleeping blanket, my woolen comforters, and a couple dozen bits worth of currency to trade with any other nomads we would encounter. The stone marks the Halla used as coins clicked whenever I shifted my stance.    

My wait was not long before the members of the Waki’Nin made their way from the town. 

A small herd, the Waki’Nin numbered barely a hundred, including the youngsters. As nomads, the herd was strong with the un-marked, those Halla who belonged to no lodge. There were a few Badgers and Wolves, their marks seeming all the more vivid beside those who were without. Among them I noticed three familiar faces watching me with wide grins. The Triplets trotted in unison behind their Eagle. Perched Fir hardly smiled as he saw me waiting by the menhir, only a slight twinkle in his old eyes belying his happiness.

“Baroness Sparkle, I had begun to think you’d turned white and ran away,” he chuckled as he passed, hardly slowing in his long stride. 

Having to almost canter to keep up, I came up to his side. “I realised this morning that we hadn’t discussed where I was to meet you. I figured the road north was the most logical spot.” I paused to give a sly grin. “Seems I was right.”

Perched laughed, one of the few times I would hear the sound, letting the twinkle in his eye become a true smile. “I see I chose wisely in listening to my Ravens’ advice about you.” A long chuckle made his chest rumble. “You should get acquainted with the rest of our herd. And welcome to the family, Velvet Sparkle of the Waki’Nin.” 

I didn’t have time to respond before Perched lifted a spiralling horn to his lips and gave a great, reverberating blow. The horn’s cry was echoed by a dozen others as the nomad herds began the long journey across the Taiga. It would take us almost a month to reach the wintering grounds in the south-reaches of the forest.

Paired with Growler, it was our duty, along with the other Bears, to patrol ahead and along the flanks of the herd. In the first week alone we drove off Frost Wolves and a great, big troll. At night we took turns standing guard. This was mostly peaceful, the herd gathered in a tight circle around the younglings. The stars and moon provided their silvery, protective light. Not once did we light a fire, having no need to cook as we foraged our food, and the light would attract only danger. When we would stay in a place for more than a night, tents would be erected, but this proved to be something of a rarity. 

Along the way I did become acquainted with the rest of the herd. The first that approached me was the herd’s juniour Fox, Sylph Vixen. As her name suggests, she was a slight hind, barely bigger than me. Small of stature, but big of presence. At dusk she would sing for the younglings, playing an old lute while the rest of the herd joined in for the refrains filling the evergreen canopy with music.

Long ago, 
when forests were new,
and fern had yet to grow.
My mamare sang to me,
legends great and true.

Of the first tree~,
that brought us all life.
And the Goddess,
that new only strife~.

Winter on her breath,
Ice grasped the disc.
Until she was felled,
By heroes six.

The Queen in Stone~!
Our duty to serve~,
To protect.
To be protected from.

It was not always so.

In times of old, when fir was young,
Upon her throne~,
She watched us all~,
And sang songs now unsung.

The foals filled her eye,
A sprig of Life~,
Health to the sick,
Strength to the weak.

One day she will return~,
Reclaim what is hers,
What was before,
Let us grasp once more.

The Queen in Stone~!
Our duty to serve~,
To protect.
To be protected from.

That was always my favourite, and it was hers too. There were a hundred others, but the legend of the Queen in Stone was the one she loved the most.

Winter passed, and we made our way to the northern foaling grounds. It was beneath the boughs of the oldest living things upon our world that the Halla brought forth their next generation. Sylph had a difficult time that spring, her foal was one of three stillborn among our herd. I found myself in the terrible position of comforting my dearest friend as she was forced to leave her baby behind as only a name etched into a plinth surrounded by poppy fields. There were far too many names upon it’s weathered face. 

For a time I feared she wouldn’t recover. Sylph no longer sang to the younglings. She could hardly look upon them without crying. But as spring progressed, her spirits recovered.

And then the Season was upon us.

Never in my life have I experienced such an intense Season.

I was barely a mare, and the previous Season had felt like little more than a slight warmth. Maybe it was seeing the ritual combat of the bucks. Or perhaps it was because I was that year older. Maybe the brilliance of that spring after the long northern winter played some part. Regardless, I felt like an inferno was burning through every muscle and sinew.

I had to avoid most of the herd, and along with a few others, tried to find ways of cooling down. I spent most of my time near an icy, mountain stream. Eventually the Season’s end approached, the fire within began to die, and I decided to rejoin the herd. 

The sun had just set as I approached where the herd had been sleeping. The tapestry of stars twinkled, while the moon sailed high, the dark blot of the mare-in-the-moon watching the sleeping world below. 

“Where have you been?” snapped a voice to my left as I slunk through satin shadows, one I instantly recognised.

“Growler?” I hissed through my teeth, “Don’t sneak up on me. I almost gutted you.”

“With that little poker of yours? Unlikely.” Growler chuckled as he stepped out of the shadows cast by an elder pine. “Really though, where have you been? I was worried.” 

“Aww, the wee baby was worried for little ol’ me?” I smirked, my smile flashing in the moonlight. Turning, I flicked my tail over his nose playfully. “You needn’t have been. I was just by the stream with Misty, Evergreen, and Thistle.”

“I looked for you at the Rutting.” He admitted, and I swear his cheeks lit up the night. 

“Oh, you did, did you?” My smirk grew, and jumping up onto my back hooves I gestured at my sleek frame. “You thought you would be able to have this, hmm?”

“What? No!” Growler sputtered for several minutes, his cheeks glowing brighter still. “A few of us were worried for you, that’s all! We were concerned that... Um... Well... You see... You’re a pony and... Well... Halla are big, and you’re small.”

Laughing loud enough to receive a reproachful shout from the nearby herd, I fell back onto all four hooves. 

“That’s sweet of you, Growley, but I can take care of myself.” Tapping a hoof to my chin, I added, “Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been doing these last two weeks. Besides, seeing a bunch of bucks ramming their antlers together only does so much for me. As you point out, I am a pony, and I need more than just a strong, handsome buck, muscles rippling with a sheen of sweat...” I cleared my throat at that point, my own cheeks burning bright.

Sitting down, Growler gave me a surprised look. 

“You’re still in heat.” 

“No, I’m not,” I protested, though the fire that was starting to burn once more in my loins was telling me otherwise. I became very aware of Growler then. Moonlight shimmering in his fur. A gleam in his gentle brown eyes. The curve of his back, and the strong muscles underneath. My thoughts were filled with memories of the last winter, of the long nights spent talking, sharing our different foalhoods, the few battles fought side-by-side against beasts and monsters. A gentle smile touching my lips I leaned forward. My muzzle next to his ear, I took in his heady, musky scent. It reminded me of freshly broken evergreen leaves and peat. “Maybe just a little,” I admitted before nipping him on the ear.

“Velvet?”

My eyes trailed down his wide chest, coming to a rest between his hind legs. I wanted him so badly. My entire body sang for his caress. To feel his lips on mine before trailing down my neck to lower regions. A thrill ran up my spine at the ghostly sensation crawling across my coat at his imagined touch. Turning back to the stream I again flicked my tail across Growler’s muzzle. Watching him over my withers, I smiled as he took in my scent. 

“Come, I won’t bite,” I purred. “Maybe.”

There are few times I can recall so clear a desire. Yes, the Season was twisting my thoughts, but it hardly needed to bother. My heart was already made. I trusted Growler with my life every day; as he entrusted his with me. He seemed to consider the situation before following me. 

“Are you sure about this, Velvet?” he asked once we reached the stream.

There was no hesitation as I leaned forward and kissed him. Electricity sparked through my body at the contact, fanning the flames inside me. After a long moment I pulled back and saw he had a dopey grin on his face.

“Yes, I am. I can’t think of any pony or Halla I’d rather have my first time with, Growley.” 

I brought my forehooves up to his face, holding it steady as I kissed him again.

“Do you have to use that name?” he asked breathlessly when we broke apart again.

“You want to quibble about your name, Growley, or make love?”

“Oh, the latter,” he laughed, grabbing me around the barrel as he lunged in for an even deeper kiss.  

Illuminated by the moon and stars, we laid together that night, and for many nights after.




      


“Aww, it sounds perfect,” Glitterdust cooed, dreamily staring up at the cloud’s overhead as she rested her chin on her hooves. 

“Too perfect,” Whisper grunted, though she also had a smile. “First times are short and—”

Clearing her throat Cadence drew everypony’s attention. “Ahem, there is a filly present.”

“Oh please,” Tyr tried to snort, only for it to turn into a sneeze. “I once spent a weekend with Dionysus.”

“Who?” 

“Um, God of... uh... parties, and wine... and... stuff...” Tyr’s cheeks glowed red as she ducked her head a little lower. 

“Parties?” Glitterdust arched a brow.

“Wine?” Cadence’s face carried a slight disbelieving frown.

“By ‘Stuff’, you don’t mean...” Whisper’s voice trailed off into a couple polite coughs.

“I don’t think you want to know. Really.”

It was the three mares turns to blush as their imaginations ran wild as to what ‘stuff’ could entail, spurred on by Velvet’s steamy developments in the story. Cadence laughed at the blushes her mothers-in-law sported. A bright light flashed in Whispers eyes, banishing the crimson tinting her cheeks. 

“Vel, how old were you?”

Brought out of her own thoughts, Velvet gave a small ‘pardon me?’, to which Whisper repeated the question.

“Oh, I was sixteen at the time.” 

“Sixteen!” Glitterdust and Whisper repeated, their voices making the servants bringing out lunch jump. 

Velvet simply shrugged at their shocked expressions. “Different times and society,” was all the explanation they received. Velvet took a moment to thank the servants before turning her attention to the plate of sandwiches, carrots, and celery stalks.

“You love him still,” Cadence stated softly after placing a sandwich in front of Tyr.

“I... Yes, I do, and I always will,” Velvet admitted. “But he’s dead, so it’s immaterial.”

The table grew very sober at this revelation. Glitterdust reached over and gave her wife a gentle hug, but didn’t say anything. 

Cadence took the opportunity to lean down, and whispering so only Tyr could hear, asked, “What is Dionysus really?”

“Hedonism,” Tyr replied in an equally hushed voice. 

Raising a brow, Cadence gave her head a shake. “I wonder sometimes...” Cadence’s voice trailed off as she gave a slight ‘tsk’. She was about to add more when she noticed Tyr beginning to wobble before falling against her side. Reaching up, Tyr grabbed Cadence’s wing, wrapping it around herself like a blanket while shivering almost uncontrollably. 

Forcing a smile, Velvet was about to continue her tale when a fit of coughs wracked Tyr’s body. The false smile vanished, replaced by concern.

“That’s not good,” Velvet stated, pushing back her lunch. She, and her wives, all moved around the filly, pressing hooves to her forehead, looking into her eyes and mouth, and coming quickly to the consensus, as only a group of new grandmares could manage, that Tyr needed to be put to bed straight away, a warm compress of sparkle flowers applied to the chest to ease her breathing and lemon tea for her congestion. 

“No, I want to hear about the Halla and grandmother Velvet’s adventures!” Tyr protested, trying to ward off her grandmothers.

“You will, after we get you tucked into bed, dear,” Cadence said, lifting Tyr up with her magic and leading the herd towards the manor.

Getting Tyr into bed proved to be rather simple. The promise of the story’s continuation enough that the moment they entered her room, she clambered up onto the bed, slid beneath her comforters, and then smiled up at Velvet expectantly. She groaned a little as herbs were applied and special teas brewed. 

The tea had a tart flavour that made Tyr squirm while the sparkle flower compress had a sickly sweet smell almost like burnt honey. The filly did her best to fend off her foster family, but such efforts were futile. When she’d at last sipped the final sip of tea, Tyr just grinned and waited. 

Before Velvet could continue her story, however, the thick doors of the room opened again and Shining stepped inside followed by Comet Chaser.

“We thought we heard you ladies come inside,” Shining said, giving a bright smile. 

Comet Chaser greeted his second and third wives with a stiff nod and grin. Velvet barely suppressed a laugh at the uncharacteristic display of emotion from her husband.

Waiting until everypony had found a seat, a few cushions and a couch being brought in from the adjacent Rose Room, Velvet continued the story.

“It was a few months later I began to show the signs that I was pregnant—.”

“What!?” Shining and Comet exclaimed together, their eyes growing large while their mouths fell open. 

“Hey, don’t interrupt!” Tyr snapped. “It’s your fault you missed part of the story.” 

“Hush, Tyr, no need to be like that,” Cadence admonished before nodding for Velvet to resume.

“As I was saying...”







My pregnancy was met with concern. There was happiness as well, but overwhelmingly it was concern that pervaded the herd. At first I assumed that they were upset about me carrying a half-breed, but I quickly learned that was not the case. 

The night I told Eagle Perched Fir I was pregnant was one of the most frightening in my life. Over the months I had come to respect and love him as a father. He was the only Eagle that treated me not as a walking calamity, but as a Halla. I anticipated disappointment and anger from him as I approached. Fir looked up as I stopped in front of where he and the senior wolf of our herd rested. 

“Is something the matter, Velvet” he asked in his slow, gentle way.

I could do little more than nod. My throat was clenched shut, while my gut was tied into an improbable knot. After several attempts I finally managed to say, “I’m pregnant.”

Fir simply nodded, turned to the senior wolf, Gnawed Bark, and said, “it is as you thought.”

“You knew?” I asked as relief began to wash through my veins.

“Please, you and Growler have been about as subtle as a rampaging dragon,” Gnawed snorted as she stood. With a wave of her head, she said, “Follow me.”

I didn’t ask where we were headed as she lead me a short distance from the herd. No words were shared at all, Gnawed keeping her own council until she abruptly stopped in the glade next to our camp. 

“Hold still,” she ordered as magic alighted along her antlers. Humming one of Sylph’s songs, Gnawed passed her magic over my sides, making me realise she was using a scanning spell. She spent several minutes scanning the foal and I, rotating through as many different spells. As time progressed she ceased to hum, and her face took on a dreadful pallor. “Well,” she said after completing the final scan, “The good news is your foal is alive and growing. But she is very weak, Velvet. You need to prepare yourself to the reality that the odds of you carrying this foal to term are beyond slim.”

“But, the Halla are a joining of unicorn and elk blood!” I protested. “So says the Ballad of the First Herd.”

“The ballad also states that it was the queen that breathed life into the foals when they could take none for themselves.” Gnawed reminded me, placing a hoof upon my withers.

“Then I’ll... I’ll...”

“You’ll prepare yourself for the worst, and hope for the best.” Gnawed interjected forcefully, a dark scowl making her eyes turn into two black pools. “As we all must do. Many lose their first foal to the Gasping. It is the price we pay for our service to the queen, and our betrayal.”

“That’s a load of dragon crap, and you know it!” I snarled, my upper lip curling back as my anger rose. “The arse licking Eagles in the home-steads feed that line of maggot riddled meat to keep the nomads in line. I’ve seen a goddess, Celestia, and she would never do a tenth the things attributed to the queen.”

“The Sun Princess is not our Queen, Velvet. She may be the purity and light that bathes the disc, but the Queen is a spiteful whoredotter that would cleave us all from gullet to arse, as in the Tale of Immodel.”

“I can not believe that,” I fumed, the two of us beginning to circle the other as our tempers rose. “It is not just Celestia, but Cadence! It is thanks to them that ponies have known a thousand years of prosperity.”

“What of Nightmare Moon, hmm? Our very Queen’s niece? She too descended into madness. Or did you think those preposterous rituals on the Fall Solstice performed by the ignorant, blind foals you once called kin were nothing but old hinds’ tales?”

“No more than you plow your head into the earth about Iridia!”

“Do not speak that vile wretch’s name!” Gnawed thundered, drawing herself up to her full height, little sparks of electricity arcing between the prongs of her antlers. 

At that point the argument grew heated and devolved mostly into name calling. After an hour of trading barbs, I stormed off into the woods. Fuming, I took little heed of where I was heading or my surroundings. Cursing Gnawed and the Halla in general, I found myself in a sheltered glade with a small pond.  

Alone, my anger faltered and I was left with only the worry for my unborn foal. 

I looked down into the pond and saw my own face framed by the bright half of the moon, almost as if I had taken the mare-in-the-moon’s place. The eyes that looked back at me were haggard and haunted, hollow sunken things filled with sadness and regret.

In that moment I felt so alone.

My friends among the herd were little comfort. My distant mentors back in Reinalla could not console my heart. Not even thoughts of Growler could break the sorrow that clung to me.

I was very much as a little filly, desperate for a hug from my mother and the reassuring smile of my father. All I wanted was to hear their voices again and be told that everything would be okay. That my filly would be strong and healthy, and the icy fear that had been sunk deep into me was silly. 

Tears dripped from my chin, breaking the mirror surface of the pond, and in the ripples I thought I could see my mother looking back at me.

I could almost even hear her. Closing my eyes, I focused on the whisper of memory, but it drifted away, like fog on a morning breeze. Desperately, I closed my eyes harder, my face tense with the effort of bringing forth happy memories. 

But it was futile. 

The memories were gone, chased away by the great swirling beast of anger and fear that pervaded my thoughts. Furiously, I scrubbed the few tears from my face. 

In defeat, I stood, and as I turned away from the pond I saw him.

He stood upon a short slope of stone protruding between the roots of an elder pine. A red cloak trimmed in white fur was bunched over his withers revealing old, battered barding. Jutting out of the left breast of his armour was the point of a deep purple crystal with swirling blues that churned like eddies and currents. Dark grey and unpolished, a helm rimmed in broken spikes rested on his brow, a crimson battle-spine protecting a long, sharpened horn. A grim smile parted thin lips to reveal a pair of curved fangs. But it is his eyes I remember the most; they were like a ring of blood inside a pool of green bile.

We just stood there, staring at each other, neither moving. 

I could taste magic in the air. It was foul and acrid, burning my tongue and making my horn itch. A pulse went through the magic, slow and thready, like the beat of a hollow heart. As the pulse washed over me, I felt the magic tugged at me, sapping away a fragment of happiness. My own breath halted as I felt the pulse repeat itself, throwing corruption into the wind, while sucking out all the was good.

“Who are you?” I snapped, setting my hooves into an aggressive opening stance.

The figure didn’t respond, he hardly even seemed to notice me. Tilting his head, he whispered, “such a pretty thing. Young. Full of life. So much hardship lays before her. I wonder… I wonder…”

As unnerving as his appearance, his voice was worse. Slow, precise, with a hint of cruel humour dancing around the edges, as if at any moment control could vanish to be replaced by lunacy. 

As slow as the drifting of a glacier I drew my sword, my eyes never wavering while my ears scanned for a potential ambush. 

“I won’t ask again,” I snapped as I slid a hoof forward, readying myself for action. “I am Velvet Sparkle, of the Waki’Nin Nomads, and you are in our home. Who are you?”

“She asks me my name. Should I tell her, little moondream, tell her who I am?” The figure chuckled, shaking his tangled mane. “It wouldn’t matter, would it? Names and titles are meaningless things, after-all. In the end we are all just sacks of meat to the reapers, and then we are dust.”

The snap of a twig to my side made tense muscles burst into action. I spun, bringing my blade up in a guard.

Out of the brush staggered Sylph, a couple twigs sticking out of her mane. She skidded to a halt mere inches from my sword, eyes crossing as they focused on the steel in front of her nose.

“Ah! It’s me, Vel! Sylph!” she yelped, scooting back.

Ignoring Sylph I glanced back to the stone, but the other unicorn was gone.

“Did you see him?” I asked as I slid my weapon into its sheath. 

“See who?”

“There was another unicorn, right there, on that rock,” I exclaimed as I went to inspect the indicated spot. There were no signs that the other unicorn had been present. The soft loamy dirt was undisturbed around the base, and the short grass was unbroken. He couldn’t have teleported away as I hadn’t seen the tell-tale flash of such a spell. It was as if he had turned to smoke and drifted away. “He was right here, I swear on the first daughter!”

Looking around, Sylph shrugged. “Well, he isn’t here now.”

“You believe me, right?” I asked as I paced in wider and wider circles looking for anything to indicate somepony else had been there with me.

“Never said I didn’t.” Sylph giggled as she glided up to my side. “Not my concern anyways. Ponies in the Taiga is for the Wolves and Eagles. You should tell the elders.”

I stiffened at the names, casting a wary glance over my withers towards Sylph.

“I... don’t think that is a good idea.”

“What, because you got into a little argument with Gnawed?” Sylph let out a derisive snort. 

“You heard that?”

Rolling her eyes, Sylph jabbed me in the side. “Vel, I think half the Taiga heard you two going at each other.” She then let her good humour slide away. “The herd’s worried about you, Vel.”

“That seems to be pretty common,” I snorted starting to trot off again away from the herd. 

“Well, you have to admit your smaller, more fragile, not as strong as—.”

Fast as a cobra, I spun, anger making my mane dance. Despite being shorter than Sylph, I loomed over her in presence. 

Sparks danced off my tongue as I snarled, “I am not weak!” 

“M-My mistake!” Sylph shrunk back, pressing her ears flat to her head in submission. 

“I’m strong, and so too will be my foal,” I continued, not realising I’d reverted to Equestrian in my anger and fear. “We have to be... We have to be...” 

Tears threatened to flow freely as I brushed past my dearest friend. She stopped me with a raised hoof. I turned to ask her what she was doing, but felt a lump lodge itself in my throat as she brought her forelegs around my neck.

“You are strong, Velvet, the strongest Halla I know.” She whispered, stroking my mane with one hoof. “No matter what happens, you have the herd, and we’ll always be here for you. Even when you’re being a stubborn goat.”

The ice in my heart was torn free by the gentle words, and like a foal I wrapped my hooves around Sylph and let myself cry. 

We returned to the herd just before dawn’s first light began to creep over the disc. Swallowing my damaged pride, the first thing I did was apologise to Gnawed for my words and storming off. She in turn apologised for her own role in our argument. I told Perched about the unicorn I had seen near the pond, and he sent a cadre of our herd’s bears and wolves to investigate. They found nothing except a slight feeling of unease lingering about the stone on which the unicorn had stood.

Settling against Growler the next night, I kissed him gently upon his jaw.

“You shouldn’t antagonise the elders so much, Dwemëu,” Growler stated, using his magic to draw my blankets tight against my barrel.

“You worry too much,” I responded quickly, giving him a cock-sure grin. I refused to let him see me as weak and jittery. 

He gave a low grunt and frowned. “You can try to shield your heart from me, but it will not work. Dwemëu, I know you too well. I can feel your fear.”

Nodding slowly, I repeated what Gnawed had told me the previous night.

Through it all, Growler remained silent. When I finished, he held me closer, looked up to the rising moon. I could feel the hidden strength that thrummed through his frame, and it gave me hope.

“Our daughter will live, of that I have no doubt,” Growler said, his words certain and absolute. 

We spoke little more that night, slowly drifting off, unaware that the course of Halla history was about to be altered forever. 

I was awoken to the sounds of screams and wails. Casting aside my blanket, I drew my sword while casting a simple enchantment that granted moonsight. Flank to flank with Growler, we searched for the danger to the herd. Little sparks of waiting electricity arced between his antlers, and I could sense him connecting to the earth, preparing his defensive and offensive magic.

From the position of the moon I discerned I had slept perhaps a half-hour, perhaps more, making it the start of the witching hour. 

More and more screams filled the camp, hinds leaping to their hooves right out of sleep. A few of the flightier members of the herd made to stamped. Twisting and glancing about I searched for the source of their fear, but saw nothing. The bears that had been patrolling the perimeter appeared, ready for battle. They too looked for the threat, making me realise that whatever was happening had slipped past our guards.  

Order was restored when a ball of magic burst above the herd, temporarily banishing the night. All eyes were drawn to the source. The Triplets stood, grim of face and dark in their anger.

“Bestill yourselves,” they snapped, their magically enhanced voices echoing like the tread of a giant through the trees.

“But the Queen, she came to me!” cried Silver Pine, one of the more anxious members of the herd.

“Me too. Same here. I as well,” voiced several other hinds. 

“She threatened my foal,” Burnt Willow yelled from near the middle of the herd.

Only a slight frown on White’s muzzle betrayed the triplets emotions at the statement.

“Unlikely,” they replied, stamping their hooves. “The Queen in Stone does not deign to address the likes of us. There must be another explanation to what we experienced.”

I looked about the herd and saw many frowns and angry faces. Arguments began to break out amongst our number. From a nearby pair I heard repeated that foals had been threatened.  

“Enough!” Fir roared, his deep, brassy voice crushing all discontent. “We are Halla, not panicky, timid, little ponies. Act like it.”

From throughout the herd voices began to question the Eagle, most demanding answers as to why the queen would threaten foals, and why now? She had been quiet since her imprisonment, what could make her stir now? More and more the questions came, piling atop each other until I could not keep track of them all. 

“She didn’t threaten our foals.”

It was Sylph who had spoken. She had leapt atop her mate’s back, using him as a perch to glower down upon the rest of the herd. 

“It was a warning!” She shouted, drawing agreement and nods from every corner of the camp. “She is warning us. We must find one of her hidden vales before the winter, or all our foals are in danger.”

“The Seven Vales are a legend,” snapped Crimson Winter, the senior badger. 

“To the rest of the disc we are a legend,” I responded, drawing the herds attention. Hesitating for a moment, I looked from Sylph to Growler, both giving me firm nods to continue. “Ioka is filled with myths and legends, and almost all are grown from a grain of truth, even the Grain of Truth!” A smattering of chuckles rippled through the herd. “We are Halla, and to those beyond the Crystalspines, we are nothing more than myth and hearsay. I look around and see that it was all the expecting mothers that received this vision, yes?” 

A smattering of nods and confirmation greeted my question, as well as Burnt Willow asking, “Did you see her, Velvet?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t have if she came in a dream.”

Some confusion spread, more than a few wondering what I meant.

“Vel is a unicorn, you rock brained farmers,” Sylph yelled as the confusion grew louder. “Cursed never to dream but once in the year.” 

“So, what does this have to do with the threat we received?”

“Warning,” the triplets corrected.

“It means that we will winter in a vale,” Fir shouted, quieting his herd before another rumble of discontent could sweep through it.

“But we don’t know where they are,” protested Silver Pine. She began to wring her hooves, little tears trickling down her face as she muttered and blubbered to herself.

Perched Fir smashed a hoof into the stone beneath him, splintering the weathered granite. “We have the old songs. As Velvet says, we Halla are legends, and we will use legends as our guides. Now, get what rest you can. Tomorrow we break camp.”

Still muttering amongst themselves, most of the herd returned to their tents. 

Unsatisfied with Fir’s command, I went to the triplets to demand more answers. 

“She has shown us a vision of what will happen to those herds who refuse to winter in places strong with the magic of spring,” White said, her voice low and sad as she and her sisters began to pack their tent, placing their potions and things into their saddle-bags. “No foal will be born to those herds that did not make for one of the Seven Vales, Velvet. There is a darkness within the Taiga, one that saps the life from the unborn.”

“Do the other herds know?” I asked as the ghostly laments of the previous spring thrust forward from my memory. I shivered despite the warm, balmy night.  

“The Queen has warned them as she has us. It is up to them to listen or not,” White hesitated, then added, “But, most will return to the homesteads and will not be able to reach one of the vales in time. It is going to be a bleak spring, next year.”

To reach one of the vales and set our eyes on the sacred blossoms we journeyed far to the south, to the base of Mount Greyhame’s treacherous slopes. The blades of our Bears tasted the blood of beasts mundane and fantastical on an almost daily basis as we made our way towards the glade. At the front of our herd, side-by-side, strode the triplets, ever our guides, reading the signs that pointed the way.

Beneath an arch of crimson ice, and through a valley of weeping, poisonous fog we travelled. To the petrified bones of an ancient wyrm slain in a time forgotten, his gaze pointing to the final path, we marched. Mount Greyhame herself seemed to reject our presence, the mountain sending loose boulders down upon our herd. 

But as the Taiga began to turn gold we knew we had made it.

Hidden high upon Mount Greyhame there exists a bountiful garden sheltered beneath the arms of Kuëthmyrsil, the first cherry tree, said to have been planted by the queen when she was young and new to Ioka. A small pool encircled the tree, fed by the icy waters flowing from the glaciers that gave the Crystalspines their name. Butterflies, millions of them, fluttered between beds of flowers. Before the tree sat a monument of the blackest marble. A single word was barely visible on the stone, weathered away to almost obscurity by an untold number of years.

Namyra.

No Halla yet remains who knows what meaning lies hidden behind that word.

None save I and one other.

Within Cherry Blossom Vale we found the Kuppa’Jo and Flask’Ah. Shortly after our arrival, two more herds emerged out of the walls of fog that formed the final barrier protecting the vale. A final herd would join us before the first snows fell and access to and from the vale was severed for the winter.

Over a thousand Halla wintered together, and it was a wonderful season. Within the vale winter’s grasp never reached us. Each day was sunny and warm as if it were the height of spring forever. Though cramped, we never wanted for sustenance, a single blade of grass enough to fill our bellies, and but a sip from the crystal clear pool enough to quench the greatest thirst. 

A town formed, and for the first time since I joined the herd, fires were lit. At night we sang, and during the day we watched the younglings play. A few of the badgers spun silk thread using the fibers on the butterflies wings. They only used those butterflies that passed away naturally, but there were so many that by spring there’d be tons of the thread. The thread proved to be lighter, stronger, and softer than any other. Cloths made from the thread seemed to repel water while also holding in heat like wool four times as thick. 

That winter solstice was one of laughter and joy. I had grown large with my foal, as had most of the other hinds. Nibbling on bread made with berries picked from the holy tree, I leaned against Growler, as Sylph sang traditional pony chorals to us and the triplets. She had learned the songs from me, and though she stumbled on some of the words, Sylph enjoyed singing them to us. 

Little did we know of the dangers the coming year held in store for us.

I had a sense of the coming calamities. There was a tenseness deep within my gut whenever I thought of the small life growing inside me. This was often. As often as I dreamed, which was every night, without fail. As the vale protected us from the evil seeping deeper into the Taiga, it also countered whatever curse was laid upon unicorns.  

Winter made way for a glorious Spring, the brightest and warmest within the annuals of Halla history. 

Anxiety flitted through the herds as the birthing season came upon us. Though no Halla mentioned it, we all carried the same fear; that our foals would not live. 

The first day came and went with none of the hinds entering labour.

A second passed the same way, followed by a third. 

Anxiety was threatening to boil over into full panic. Anger swept through the six herds, many claiming that the Queen had tricked us and we’d doomed our foals. These voices were few and quickly drowned out by calls for calmness. As things began to reach a fevered pitch, the first hinds began to labour. 

The birth of my eldest happened early in the afternoon. A section of the vale had been set aside for the hinds to have some privacy. I don’t recall much, Gnawed having used a spell to induce a fugue state. What little I do recall is pain unlike anything else I have experienced, and then a grey nothingness between dreams and reality. 

When I awoke I was so weak and tired. I could hardly feel anything behind my withers. Shifting my head I noticed Growler sitting beside me. He had one of my hooves in his own, and his other hoof wrapped around a bundle in gold cloth. For several moments I wondered why he treated the cloth with such reverence, then it struck me; he was holding our daughter.

“Growler?” I tried to say, but my voice was hoarse and raw, coming out as a garbled croak. 

To his credit, Growler neither jumped in surprise nor exclaimed my name. He just leaned over, kissed me on the brow, and asked me to stay quiet while he fetched me a thimble of water. While the magical water refreshed my throat, sending cool tingling waves through my weary body, he explained what had happened.

“You’ve been asleep for a week, Dwemëu,” he began. “Our daughter is alive but… It is as we feared, she has the Gasping.”

In that instant my world began to crumble. Demanding to see her, Growler shifted the bundle to my side. Moving the cloth, I got the first look at my daughter.

Large brown eyes stared up at me from within a face whiter than snow. Above her brow were the nubs for antlers. Between them was a short tuft of two-toned hair, pink and cobalt blue in colour. She smiled up at my face, reaching with her little cloven hooves. 

“She reminds me of my grandmother,” I said, trying to hold back the competing joy and sorrow. As I spoke she took a short, watery breath, her entire body rattling with the effort. “Hello, River Sparkle, I’m your mother.”

I didn’t have long to enjoy River’s presence before the tent-flap was tossed open to admit Perched Fir and five bulls I recognised as the Eagles for the other herds. Their long faces were covered in expressionless stone masks. Masks that cracked when they looked down on me and my daughter.

“It is true. She is white,” stated the head of the Kuppa’Jo.

Tensing, I held River closer, fearing for a moment that they were about to take her away from me. Instead, one by one, the eagles knelt, touching their antlers to the ground. The tent was filled with silence except for River’s troubled breathing. They remained that way for what felt minutes before they again stood. Ignoring my presence, they immediately began to talk amongst themselves.

“I never thought another white hind would be born,” Waking Spirit of the Rag’Ling herd muttered, shaking his large head.

“She has the Gasping, however,” noted Perched Fir. “She will not see the next spring, even living in this vale.”

“True.”

“It is a shame she cannot be saved,” Waking Spirit stamped a hoof and snorted. Turning to me and Growler, our presences were finally noted by the bulls. “Would you do anything to protect her?”

“That is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard,” Growler snorted, rising to his hooves and striding towards the much larger Halla. “We are her parents, of course we’ll do whatever we must to protect our daughter!”

“As it should be,” Perched gave a swift turn of his head, leading the Eagles out of the tent. 

As the last left, the triplets and Sylph entered. All four of my friends carried wide grins. For what felt like hours, we spoke, talking about very little, all of us avoiding the greater issue. My mind was troubled by the encounter with the Eagles, and I could see Growler was having the same thoughts. 

“She’s so cute,” Sylph cooed, playing with River and making the foal giggle and wheeze. “And so white. Just like in the myths.”

“Why is her coat colour so important?” I asked, though I dreaded the answer. 

“White hinds are… gifted, Vel.” Sylph shifted a little, wincing at her own words.

Turning to the triplets for a better answer, I gave the trio a hard stare.

“Gifted is an understatement,” Violet chuckled. “It is said that a White Hind can peer between our world and that of the dead, guiding lost souls to the afterlife.”

Picking up where her sister left off, White added, “A White Hind is impossible to catch. With but a thought she can vanish, reappearing where she wills without effort or spell.”

“She knows every path in the Taiga. All the secret places. All the hidden trails. Everything is to her as a paved road,” Red finished for the trio.

I’ll admit, I felt a little overwhelmed by the weight and certainty in the triplets voices. They spoke of her as a saviour or saint, and their eyes carried a faith I had not seen among the Halla when they looked down on the small, gold-wrapped foal. It was the same way ponies look upon Celestia when watching her raise the sun. 

I had known that my daughter would be different, but this was too much. A happy, normal, healthy life was all I had desired for her. Sadly, two of the three seemed to be impossible. 

“So, when do we leave?”

It was Sylph that asked the question, looking expectantly between the rest of us.

“What do you mean?” 

Rolling her eyes, Sylph jabbed a hoof at me. “Oh, please, I know you Vel. You’re trying to think of someway to help her.”

“Yes, but… How? How do I save her, Sylphy, how?”

“I told you the answer months ago, dum-dum.” Snorting, Sylph shook her head. “The Queen.”

“You can’t be serious!” Growler snarled, taking a threatening step towards Sylph. “She—.”

“Saved the life of my son!” Sylph snarled back, pressing her antlers against Growlers, returning his look with an intensity a hundred times greater. “She saved the lives of how many foals? We lost not one this year. Not. One.” Shoving Growler back, Sylph poured her righteousness down on him in a withering glare. “I can not think of a year when a single herd hasn’t lost at least one foal. But for all six of the herds here to have all their foals survive? This is Her doing, River Growler.”

Looking to the triplets for support, Growler instead found them nodding agreement with Sylph.

“She alone can heal the Gasping,” the trio said, reverting to their usual method of talking together.

“’A sprig of Life. Health to the sick. Strength to the weak.’” Sylph recited. When she received blank stares, Sylph swung her lute down from her back and played the song. Throughout, little River giggled and squealed, waving her tiny hooves towards the instrument. As the last note drifted from the tent and Sylph returned her lute to her back, she said, “If we bring a sprig from the first tree to Her, She’ll be able to grant one boon, and heal your daughter.”

“Alright,” I gave a firm nod, heart set. “Then that is what I will do.”

“What we’ll do, you mean,” Growler stated. “I may not agree with this plan. It is foalish and doomed to failure. But I will not let my mate undertake this alone.”

“I am coming too.” Sylph said with a thin smile, and before I could begin to protest she added. “You will need some-elk who knows the legends and myths. Who can guide you to the Lost Vale of the First Tree. And even if you found the tree on your own, which you wouldn’t, you’d first have to find the Golden Sickle in order to be able to take a sprig from the tree.”

Sighing, and running a hoof over my face, I asked, “I suppose you know where the sickle is, too?”

“Gamla Uppsala. The royal burial mounds of the Halla in antiquity. It is said that the royal herd held the sickle, both as the leaders of the Halla when the Queen would travel, and as her High Priests and Priestesses. When the last of the Youngling line perished, it is said that she was buried with the sickle. It was three hundred years later that the Queen returned to the Halla and declared the Eternal Herd march upon the pony refugees that had landed in what is now Equestria. But the Queen never returned to the old site of the Youngling’s lodge; Lion Lodge. I am positive that it is there, within the burial mounds, that we will find her sickle.”

Smiling, the triplets said, “It is settled then. We six will find the Lost Vale, and save River Sparkle.” They then paused, and from the way their ears flickered I could tell they were speaking amongst themselves. “But to do so we must first separate. If this endeavour is to succeed, River must be taken to Reinalla. We will bring her to Raven Lodge and intrust her safety to Grandmaster Winds.”

“We will need set a meeting place and time,” Growler pointed out. 

“The headwaters of Skeena river, lake Babine. We will wait for you there, at Sunfall Stone. If you reach there first and we do not arrive by the summer moon, continue without us.” The triplets then turned grave. “The elders cannot know what we seek to do. They would be forced to stop us. We are conspiring to commit high treason. Once you are recovered enough, Velvet, we will leave. Until then, it is paramount we act as if all is normal. You should also enjoy your daughter, and you your son, Sylph. It may be the last time you see them, and they you.”

With that the triplets left the tent, Sylph following shortly after.

The next week was spent in tense preparation. As Halla, we already possessed most of what we would need. Still, there were a few things only Cherry Blossom Vale could provide. From the bakers we bought a loaf of vale-bread each, and filled our flasks with the pools waters. I replaced my heavy wool cloak and winter clothes with lighter versions made from butterfly silk. Sylph likewise acquired a cloak, and a brace of knives from her grand dame, the senior Bear of our herd.  

It was in the middle of night that we slipped out of the vale, Sylph lingering a moment to kiss her foal upon his brow. Then we were gone, and our journey began. 







“Before the summer was over, we had ridden on the back of a northern roc, delved deep into Ioka’s shell, battled dire and frost wolves, and traded songs with an ancient forest dragon,” Velvet said, letting the story drift off along with Tyr, the filly’s eyes fluttering shut as she fell asleep at last.   

The large bedroom grew silent, Velvet simply stroking Tyr’s mane while humming a few bars from Sylph’s old song. All the ponies in the room had questions dancing on the tips of their tongues, but none wished to risk waking Tyr. After a few moments, they were saved from the dilemma by a timid knock upon the door followed by one of the manor’s servants stepping into the room. 

Taking quick stock of the situation, the servant said just above a whisper, “Your highnesses, my ladies and lord; dinner has been prepared.”

“Thank you, Summer, we’ll be right down,” Velvet responded, slipping off the bed, and giving Tyr a quick kiss on the brow.

As they slipped one by one from the room, Velvet stopped and looked back. Cadence hadn’t moved from her spot next to Tyr, and had extended a wing over the filly. There was a pensive frown in the corners of the princess’ eyes, and a stiffness to the her back. 

“Princess?” 

The word contained a dozen questions in one: Why do you linger? Is something the matter? Are you going to join us? And many more variations along the same theme. 

Looking up, Cadence gave her head a little shake, as if she were banishing a bad thought. She could have been, Velvet realised. Cadence was an ancient being, despite her youthful appearance and demeanor. There were very few ponies that could begin to grasp the life Cadence had lived. Though Velvet had some inkling, she also knew that is was just the barest conception.

“I’ll have Summer bring you up a plate, love,” Velvet said, pre-empting any response. As she reached the door and took the handle in her magic, she added, “and a bottle of the merlot.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cadence said, sliding off the bed. “I’m going to Canterlot to speak with Celestia. I’m worried that she’s only getting worse...” Her voice trailed off as she gave her head another shake.

“She’s young and strong, love. Fillies get these little bugs all the time.” Velvet tried to sound reassuring, but her own doubt tinted her voice.

Turning back to Tyr, Cadence said, “but she isn’t young, Velvet. Not by non-alicorn standards. She’s actually old. Very old.”

“Yes…” Velvet slowly agreed, “A hundred and thirty five, she keeps claiming. But that can’t be right… Can it?”

Cadence gave a slight shrug.

“I don’t know. Aunt Celestia seemed to take it at face value.”

“But it’s just a cold, right?” Velvet shifted on her hooves, the reversal from being comforter to comforted sending a chill up her spine. 

She asked the question more out of social obligation. A hundred different spells, curses, hexes, and jinxes scrambled through her thoughts. Most had been forgotten until she’d started telling the story of her past. Velvet blanched as some of the darker spells danced across her mind, taunting and laughing at her as if they were gremlins. With a grim toss of her head, Velvet banished her fears. Almost all those spells were Lost Magic. Half of them were known only to her, and maybe the princesses. 

“I’m not so sure, Velvet,” Cadence whispered around a click of her tongue. “Which is why I am going to seek Aunt Celestia’s council.”

“I’ll stay with Tyr, then.” Velvet said as she carefully stepped back onto the bed, curling her tail around the sleeping filly. Looking back towards the princess, Velvet added, “There is another in Canterlot who could help, you know…”

Cadence hesitated, then nodded before vanishing in a flash of baby-blue magic. Alone with Tyr, Velvet laid her chin down next to the filly. In a low, shaky voice, Velvet sung an old equish lullaby. 
    


> Part Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Four

Velvet sat with Tyr until the the night grew old and morning began to encroach on the east. She spent the long, lonely hours humming softly, stroking Tyr’s mane and face until her leg cramped. The filly only stirred twice, mumbling and shaking as feverish nightmares plagued her sleep. 

As the clocks struck the midnight hour, the manor ringing with bells, chimes, and gongs, the bedroom door swung open, permitting Shining Armour inside. He carried with him two steaming cups of coffee and a dinner roll. 

“How’s she doing?” Shining asked in a hesitant whisper as he passed one of the cups and the dinner roll to his mother.

“Not good,” Velvet admitted. “Her fever is getting worse.”

“She’s a trooper…” 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Velvet gave her son a quirky smile. “She’s a Goddess, haven’t you heard?”

Stopping on the far side of the bed, Shining gave Velvet a frown. “Not now, mother, this is serious.” He waited a moment to let his admonishment sink in before asking, “Cadence isn’t back yet?”

Velvet shook her head, her moment of humour fading. 

“You should go back to sleep, Shiny.”

“Can’t sleep,” Shining said, “I keep thinking that I’m a coward, hiding in my bed while my wife is off trying to protect our…” His voice trailed off again as he shook his head.

Laying down on the other side of Tyr, Shining slowly reached out a hoof, gently brushing her mane from her eyes. His face was a stoic mask, one designed to imitate Celestia’s renowned composure. Velvet could see the cracks and through them her sons worry and uncertainty. 

“I don’t know what to do, mother,” he said, the cracks widening a sliver. “She’s not my filly… and yet…” He shook his head, and cleared a sudden lump wedged deep in his throat. “I loved taking care of Twily, and protecting her. You made it into a game for me. It was the heart of our herd, and I never really questioned it. She was the youngest and your heir. But our mothers were always there in case I did something wrong; you, Glitter, or Whisps.

“Now it’s on Cadence and me… And we’re failing. She’s not my filly, yet she is.” Looking up, his eyes rimmed with tears, he asked, “What do I do?”

Careful not to disturb Tyr, Velvet reached over and gave her son a gentle hug. Pressing his head against her neck as she had done when he was little and afraid, Velvet said, “You do what you’re doing right now. You be here for this filly when she needs you, even if all you can give her is love.”

They were quiet afterwards, the only noise Tyr’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock. 

Both were lost in thoughts; Shining reconciling his inability to help with his desire to act, while Velvet relived memories of a summer long past. 

As the bottom of the hour approached, Shining asked, “What happened to my sister?”

“She’s in Canterlot, Shiny,” Velvet deflected, focusing on Tyr’s face and not daring to glance at Shining.

“You know who I mean, mother.”

Velvet was silent, berating herself for ever bringing up the story of her past. It had been thirty years since she left the Taiga. Thirty long, sometimes sad, sometimes happy, years. Ancient history. She should have left it alone, made up a different story or read Tyr a Daring Do book, like she used to do when Twilight was sick. 

It was so much simpler when magic had prevented her from speaking of those missing years of her life. 

She couldn’t keep the truth from Shining, Velvet knew. A small part of her, buried deep over the long years, screamed for her to tell Shining. Hesitantly, Velvet opened her mouth, but no words came forth. Growling at her failure, Velvet turned away from her son.

Why was it so hard, she wondered. She had been able to tell the story with such ease only a few hours earlier, though it had been diverging progressively more and more from reality. Velvet knew, in her heart of hearts, that when it came time for the story to conclude she would lie, spinning a grand ending for those listening.

But to do so would only dishonour the memories of those she had sworn to uphold.

Pressing her eyes shut, a single tear rippled through her fur.

Shining was quiet while Velvet wrestled with her demons. Velvet hardly daring to peak at her son, fearing his reaction to seeing her cry. She had always refused to cry in front of her foals, ever trying to be the strong pillar on which they could rely. When it came, it was not as she expected. Shining simply reached over, and rested his head against hers.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Shining said, “but you’ll have to come up with something before you reach the end of your story.”

Velvet gave a wet giggle, lifting a hoofkerchief to dry her eyes. 

Between the adults, Tyr stirred, her blue eyes flickering open.

“What… where...” she mumbled before coughing, “I’m still here.” Tyr pulled herself up a little so she was half sitting, her back supported by pillows. “I dreamt I was back in the Citadel. I was being chased by my… by my mother. She was yelling at me. Demanding to know where her real daughter was and what I did to her.”

Tyr began to shake and cry, only stopping as Velvet edged closer, saying, “It was just a bad dream.”

“I wish this was all a bad dream,” Tyr waved her small hooves around the room. “I want to go home. I want my mamma! I want my wings back!” 

A soft hushing sound came from Velvet as she began to rock Tyr. 

“We know, little one, we know,” holding Tyr close, Velvet placed her chin across the filly’s head, “you’ll see, it’ll all turn out for the best, in the end. That has always been my experience. No matter how bad things can get and seem, the light of the day will shine again.”

“Y-you’re sure?” Tyr tried to wipe away the few tears clinging to the edges of her eyes, but was stopped by Velvet, hoofkerchief gently cleaning her face.

“I am positive.”

“How can you be so certain?” Tyr wilted and looked away from Velvet and Shining, hiding her face in the folds of her thick covers. 

Pulling the covers back down to give Tyr a playful nuzzle, Velvet said, “I am so certain because I’ve lived through far worse days, and seen things that would chill your bones.” Lifting Tyr so the filly again rested against the goose down pillows, Velvet grew distant and haunted. “I’ve trusted when I shouldn’t have. I’ve turned my back on those that needed me. I’ve looked up to watch the dawn as the blood of those I loved hardened on my hooves. Yet here I am, happy and strong, with two wonderful wives, a loving husband, an accomplished foster-daughter, a strong son, and a precious little granddaughter.

“We can’t change the past, Tyr. All we can do is hold the happy memories close, learn from the bad ones, and strive to have a better tomorrow. This is true should you live only a few years, or many thousands.”

Tyr considered Velvet’s words for a long while, shifting every now and then, her ears flicking and twitching at times. Eventually she looked up and whispered, “I suppose that’s correct.” 

She paused a half beat, before asking if Velvet would tell more of her story, to which Velvet gratefully said, “Of course. Now where was I? Ah, yes, Gamla Uppsala.”







Our first destination after leaving the Vale was Gamla Uppsala. At least, that was our goal. First, we had to find the location of the ancient burial site.

Sylph had a general idea and several signs that could narrow the area further, but we knew the chances of finding Gamla Uppsala were slim. Still, fresh from the vale and with our foals foremost in our thoughts, we clung to the faint hope that it’d prove to be deceptively simple to reach the burial mounds. 

For three weeks we made hard progress, crisscrossing the region known as the Serpent Valleys, so named for the lake and river dragons that inhabited the area. I didn’t meet any of the fabled wyrms, though I did see one as she swam through the largest lake. Her scales glistened like emeralds, and her eyes were of a pale yellow. She paused as we trudged along the shore, watching us for a time before diving out of sight. 

Along the way we encountered herds that refused the Queen’s warning. The wailing of their hinds still haunt me. For a time it seemed like the entire forest was screaming in an agony so sharp it had to cut across the rest of the disc. 

We left the lamenting herds behind, our own hearts heavy with sympathy. 

They did help narrow our search, and by the start of the fourth week we found ourselves on the grey pebble shore of Lion Lake. Above, heavy, grey clouds threatened a summer storm, the taste of rain on a cool breeze. Here, the forest was bitter, a ponderous, cloying mist clinging to the hemlock and cedar trees. Our ears pressed back and we could feel a stifling weight settle on the base of our horns and antlers as we slowly moved to the lake’s southern side.

Even Sylph stopped her near endless stream of conversation. It was the first time her bubbly voice had grown silent since we’d left Cherry Blossom Vale. The quiet was not welcome, only further forcing the impression that we’d stepped onto hallowed ground upon our withers. 

We’d gone no more than a hundred strides when we were brought to a sharp stop by the distinct sound of steel ringing against steel. A howl, low and hungry, hummed through the trees, followed by a deep roar that had to have come from an equine throat. Again, the clash of steel rang in our ears.

“Growley, take the right side. Sylph, stay here,” I ordered, drawing my sword as I slipped through the brush. 

Moving as fast as I could without making a noise, I approached the battle. I expected to see a Bear from one of the nomad tribes, or perhaps a Wolf. Instead, as I peered out from a scraggly bit of brush, I laid eyes upon the unicorn from the previous summer. 

He stood, legs planted wide and a vicious grin on his lips, surrounded by three hulking, pale abominations. 

They were clearly dead, and had been so for some time. In life they’d been Halla, now they were foul and terrible things. Their coats were patchy, with great swathes of dry, mummified, grey skin showing. Bones protruded along their backs, and eyes of small, glowing orange light filled their otherwise empty sockets. I knew the abomination’s name well from my studies with Crisp Winds. Draugen; undead guardians of the ancient Halla tombs from a time when they had buried their dead and not left them to feed the forest.

A pair of heavy sabres danced around the unicorn, keeping his opponents back. A black aura of magic held the weapons aloft as the unicorn prepared a spell. 

The abominations had no intention of letting him complete the matrix. All three charged, their cloven hooves launching them forwards with unnatural speed. Striking the first across the throat, sabre cutting a clean wound that spilled only a few grains of red dust, the unicorn jumped to the side and completed his spell.

From his horn blasted a beam of black and green magic, tearing through the draugen with all the ease of sickle through a stalk of grass. Half the abomination was turned instantly to ash, the remainder tumbling across the dew soaked ground before coming to a rest at my hooves.

I didn’t remain in my hiding spot, seeing the other two undead about to crush the unicorn between their black, mold covered antlers. A trilling war cry on my tongue, I jumped forward. My blade caught the draugen on the hind right knee, cleanly severing the limb and unbalancing the undead guardian. Seeing the opening I’d made, the unicorn ducked low, sabre driving up through the other draugen’s mouth and into its rotten brain. With a twist and pull, the unicorn decapitated his opponent, the draugen stumbling back before falling to its side, returning to the true death.

Yelling for Growler to hurry and join the fray, I fired off a basic telekinetic blast. It struck the hopping draugen, sending it spinning and tumbling across the field, a hissing howl working through the air. Growler emerged from the prickly shrubs, his eyes wild as he charged. Just before he reached the struggling draugen, he raised himself onto his hind hooves. Bringing himself down on the draugen, he crushed the abomination’s head as if it were a ripe melon. 

Hardly acknowledging our presence, the unicorn slid his sabres into their scabbards upon his baldric with a harsh click. 

“You fought well,” I said, hoping for some response.

“Indeed.” 

Undeterred by his casual dismissal I nodded to Growler and Sylph, the latter cautiously approaching now the sounds of battle had ended. 

“We’re looking—”

“I don’t care who you are or what it is you seek,” the stranger snapped, casting a garnet toned eye, one slitted like a dragons, on Growler and I. “Your assistance was neither desired nor required. Such petty creations as these are beneath my notice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I snapped back, rolling my own eyes as I slid my sword home, “I didn’t realise that I had to assuage your ego while also saving your life.”

Ghastly fire burned at the corners of his eyes as the stranger rounded on me, fangs bared and red cloak billowing as if it were wings. 

“You play games with those beyond your ken, little unicorn,” he spat. Behind him, I could see Growler and Sylph both ready themselves in case the battle was about to begin anew. 

“‘Little unicorn’? Looked in a mirror-pond lately, you milk drinking, one horned goat?” I felt my face flush with anger, pressing my nose to his, despite his much greater height and bulk.

“Bah, I am not unicorn,” the stranger dismissed, bruskly turning away from me and marching towards a low mound and stone. “Though I suppose a filly like you shouldn’t be expected to know more than the horn on her head.”

Seething, I marched after him, Growler and Sylph beside me. “Hey, I’m not finished talking with you!”

“I, however, am with you,” he snorted, stepping around the tall stone.

I halted as I reached the stone; ancient, weathered writing on its face catching my attention and diverting me from my anger. Barely visible, the writing read, ‘Beware: Only the Dead may tread beyond these doors three’. Glancing up, I peered past the infuriating stranger to a low, perfectly round hill. It’s artificial origin could not have been clearer. Devoid of trees, symmetrical, and with a sharp cut in the side leading to a door.   

“The Wailing Gate,” Sylph said as she approached the cold grey edifice. “It’s open,” she added, surprise clear in her voice and on her face. 

“And so is the second and third,” sneered the stranger as he pushed passed Sylph and went to a well-lived campsite nestled between the first and second doors. “Is your talent stating the obvious?”

“You’ve left them open!?” Sylph covered her mouth with her hooves, eyes wild and panicked. “You can’t leave the doors to Gamla Uppsala open!”

“They’ve been open since this summer-past,” the stranger huffed as he went through his possessions. “Keeping them open is actually rather easy.”

“No, that isn’t what I mean,” Sylph growled back, pacing in front of the final door. “Don’t you know anything about the old tombs? No wonder the halla of the west are cursed!” 

The stranger lifted up a set of bags, their contents clinking and rattling, as Sylph rounded on him. 

“Have you any conception what you’ve done?” she demanded. “Her warning, the foals, it’s because of you!”

“What ever are you blathering on about? The only foals I see are you three. Speak quickly, tell me your meaning,” demanded the stranger, but before he could receive a reply, he added in a harsh undertone, “no, moondream, this isn’t our fault. Not our fault. How could we have known?” 

Snapping his head back as if slapped, he began to pace, distress and confusion clear on his face. 

“Not our fault, then with whom does it belong? Swore not to become involved again. Leave no hoofprints. Be as a shadow or ghost. End our curse and vanish. But we left the doors open. Ignorance is no defence. Our fault then, must be, moondream.” Stopping his rant, the stranger turned to Sylph. “I acknowledge I erred leaving these doors open. How can it be fixed?”

“Fixed?” Sylph screeched. “This isn’t something that can be fixed! Not if you lived a thousand years. Can’t you hear them? The lamentations? Countless foals are dead, and you’re the cause. Nothing can change that!”

The stranger looked past me and Growler, peering into the murky woods beyond. A cold wind ruffled his dark mane as a frown played across his muzzle. 

“In that case, so be it. I will wear that burden as I do so many others.” 

Leaning over, Growler whispered in my ear, “I don’t like this, not one bit. He’s crazy and dangerous.”

“What would you have us do? Kill him?” I retorted, though I felt in my gut that Growler was right. The look I received from him spoke clearly that the idea was prominent among his thoughts. The stranger was a danger, not just to us, but to the Halla. Yet, I could not bring myself to act. Killing beasts and monsters was one thing, but a pony or elk quite another. 

“You are here to enter the underhalls as well, I gather,” said the stranger as he adjusted his cloak and scabbard.

“We are.”

“Then you are dead sacks, you just have yet to realise it,” he smiled, showing large, prominent fangs. “Unless we join forces, that is.”

Suspicious of his sudden changes in demeanor, I demanded an answer.       

“You are right to wonder and query. I have been here a year, and in that time I’ve explored many of the tunnels and tombs beneath us. They are rather extensive. Your friend speaks of curses, and I know their touch all too well. To break a curse is why I am here. To amend an ancient mistake and find release. Along the way I mayhaps may find a way to make repayment of the grievous error made.”

Striding up to me, the stranger continued, his honeyed words chipping away at doubt and concern. 

“I will pledge my assistance in your cause if you pledge to help in mine. We may find that our goals are nearer than we think, yes?” Looking me over down the length of his nose, he said, “When I encountered you summer of last year, you were with foal. You have come to Gamla Uppsala, and yet I see no foal among your party. So, something happened to it. Your friend speaks of a curse. Your foal is cursed then, and you seek a means to break it? Yes, I see I am close, but not fully on the mark. A half-blood foal… The gasping. Which means… Oh, you are naughty Halla.” 

The stranger smiled wider as my eyes went wide at his perception of the truth.

“So, you seek to wake her. The Queen in Stone. The Goddess of the Spring, Fertility, Life, and Foals. Your goal is to end Her Majesty’s torment. All to save a single foal. You would risk the return of endless winter; placing one life above how many… Yes, I think we have more in common than you imagine.”

“The Queen would—” Sylph began, only to be stopped by a sharp word.

“You do not know her. None of you do.” The stranger threw back his head as he let out a deep laugh. “Do not rush blindly to her defence. She is as unredeemable as I.”

“And who, exactly, are you?” Growler demanded, stepping forward until his nose almost touched the strangers. “You propose to join us, you speak in riddles and twisted words, and expect us to trust you?”

“You’d be utter fools to trust me,” the stranger’s laughter refused to dies. “Yet, we need each other. I have gone as far as I can into the tombs. Together, we may go further. As for who I am; I am General Sombra de la Espanya.” He waited for a reaction, and when he received none, he said around a chuckle, “I see my name means nothing to you. Very well, it is of little concern. Do we have an alliance?”

I looked between Sylph and Growler, both giving me stern shakes of their heads. I looked past Sombra into the mouth of Gamla Uppsala. For a long time I considered all my options; forging ahead without his help, or to accept his offer. 

Had I known what was to come, I would have drawn my blade and plunged it into his throat. 

I did not, however, and despite the protests of my love and my best friend, I took Sombra’s hoof.







“But, he’s the baddie!” Tyr protested loudly. “It’s so painfully obvious!”

Little hooves flailed in the air while Velvet chuckled.

“Yes, to us sitting here,” Velvet ruffled Tyr’s mane, receiving a pout in response. “But, at the time, things were not so obvious. And appearances can be very deceiving. His more so than any pony.”

“Still, he is the villain of the story, right? He cursed the mortals and caused their foals to die,” Tyr reasoned.

“Did he, though? The curse was not of his doing, he just unknowingly unleashed it. Even he wouldn’t have caused such heartless cruelty.” 

“But… He’s responsible! If he hadn’t left the doors open…”

“Then the curse wouldn’t have been unleashed and countless innocent lives would not have ended before they could begin,” Velvet agreed, slowly nodding her head.

“Why are you defending him?” Shining asked, tilting his head. “A moment ago you said you should’ve killed him outright.”

“I do not defend him, but the truth.” Velvet gave her a sad shake of her head. “To place sins that are not his on his back is to take from those who deserve to wear them.”

Tyr opened her mouth to argue, stopped, and with a slight shiver mumbled, “I… suppose.”  

“Also, isn’t this story getting a bit… adult?” Shining winced at his own words, drawing a deadpan stare from both his mother and daughter.

“Shining, I love you dearly, but you can be a real block-head,” Velvet smirked. “Have you paid attention to anything Tyr’s said since she joined the family? Or before? About where she’s from?” 

Jaw set into a firm line, Shining said, “Yes, I am aware. That doesn’t mean we should—”

“I’m old enough to be your great-grand dame!” Tyr gave an exasperated cry. “I just look like a foal.”

“And you’re so cute, too,” Velvet gave an exaggerated coo, ruffling Tyr’s mane again. “Besides, appearances aren’t deceiving when it comes to alicorns, correct?”

“W-Well, yes, sort of. It’s complicated!” Tyr huffed, crossing her hooves while trying to look petulant. It was a look that was ruined by her runny nose and a sharp sneeze. 

“So, wait, is she or isn’t she a foal?” Shining looked between his mother and daughter.

The two shared a wicked grin, and together said, “Yes.”

“I hate you both,” Shining grumbled. 

They all shared a laugh with Tyr, the sound of the filly’s joy lightning both Shining and Velvet’s hearts. As the guffaws and chortles lessened, Velvet returned to her story.







Behind us Gamla Uppsala’s doors closed one by one, the earth shaking as locks slid into place and wards activated. Sylph breathed easier as the last was barred, though she knew the damage had already been done. 

Little was said as we descended into the earth. Sombra lead the way, I behind him, with Sylph following me and Growler guarding the rear. My horn never stopped glowing as I kept a ready grip on my sword and a spell on the tip of my thoughts. From the posture of Growler’s shoulders, I knew him to be as prepared as I for betrayal, or the crypt’s own dangers.

The first chamber we entered was the Great Hall. In antiquity, the hall had been painted in sharp black lines highlighted by gold and sapphire tiles. Above our heads in a circle sat the thirteen original spirits of the Halla. The spirits once sat together, watching anypony that entered. Not all were still intact, however, and they were no longer harmonious. Coyote, Orca, and Lion were all shattered, with long cracks running through Otter and Wolverine. The mosaics shifted and clattered, the tiles flowing like water to create a moving image that followed our steps. Raven flapped her wings, alighting on Bear’s back, Wolf at her side. The three turned to the shattered remnants of Lion, now a rotten husk from what little could be discerned beyond the broken fragments. They gave her sad smiles, and seemed to call her name, though no sound could be heard. Beyond them, Eagle and Badger moved in angry circles, while Fox watched Sylph. Ever stoic Owl remained removed from the others, tending to the wounded Otter and Wolverine.

Only a few members of the Otter and Wolverine lodges remained, their numbers counted in the dozens, at most. The duties and position of both lodges had fallen to almost unrecoverable lows, and it was common belief that both would be dead lodges within a generation. Only a single Otter had been discovered in all my time in Reinalla, with no new Wolverines. It had been long before my arrival that mention of either had stopped at the Brou’alla. By now, both will have joined Coyote and Orca; living only in history.

Beneath the mosiac was an even greater tragedy. Bones, almost all belonging to younglings, covered the ground. They were so numerous that we could not see the stonework for them. Among the bones could be heard a low whispering cry in an endless song lamenting an avoidable crime so great that the walls wept to have witnessed it. Our manes prickled and ears flickered to find the whispers’ source, but it was all around us and nowhere at once.

Sombra said nothing, acknowledging neither the haunted song nor the mosaics above. He moved along a well trod path through the bones, one he’d walked I don’t know how many times, until the youngling’s bones were naught but dust. 

The way out of the mass-grave we found blocked, a spectre barring our path.

In life she would have been a beauty to stun the senses; lithe and powerful, with a graceful swan-like neck and antlers of golden-brown. But a neck marked by a terrible wound that traced across her throat. Red armour of molded leather covered her breast, the edges a wavering, hazy fog. It trailed down her back and curved around her flanks, forcing the eye to her mark. On her cream tan coat the black lines seemed to shimmer, forming the image of a sleeping cat.

She said little as we approached, her hollow eyes following our movements with a quiet longing. 

“Have my warnings finally penetrated your armour of arrogance?” she asked Sombra in a voice of shattered hopes.  When he refused to so much as look at the spirit, she turned to me. “It has been too long, my friend," the spirit spoke, stepping forward to lay a spectral hoof upon my withers.

Her touch was like a calming fire, soothing as it burned. 

“I expected you long before now, when the Sun and Moon danced in war and the Stars were betrayed,” she continued, a reedy smile on her ghostly lips. 

“It is impossible for us to have met,” I said, trying to brush off the spectre’s hoof.

“But we have. When the crystal wall grew and the winter was warm, we met on the banks of five rivers that meet but do not touch. Though you wear a new face, you are unmistakable.” The spectra slipped her hoof from my side as her smile too drifted away.

“You’re best to ignore her,” Sombra snorted as I opened my mouth to argue with the spectre. “The dead do not see as we see and are easily confused.”

“Ever blind, my love, ever blind,” the spectre called after Sombra. “When the last of your pride is broken, maybe you’ll begin to see.”

The spectre did not follow us as we left the hall, continuing to stand a lonely vigil. 

I couldn’t help but ruminate on the spectre’s words, and noticed little of the following passages. I remember that we walked for some time, winding through narrow corridors and squat rooms. All had been disturbed and picked over by Sombra, his hoofprints shining clear in the thick dust that swirled about our legs as we moved deeper and deeper into the earth.  

Of the draugen, we saw no sign. 

“We are here,” Sombra intoned in a disinterested voice as we reached what had once been a thick set of doors.

Both had long since been torn from their hinges and lay in jagged chunks along the wall. Where they had stood, a shimmering silver curtain hung. It was like peering out of a window into a winter storm, thick motes of falling aether blocking our path.

“This is as far as I can go,” he continued, even as he moved to the side. 

“What is this?” I asked, tempted to reach out with a hoof to touch the barrier, but wisely holding back.

Stepping around me, Sylph said, “An aether wall, I think. Like in the tale of Red Bow.”

“You are correct,” Sombra nodded to Sylph, “I have tried to dispel the enchantments binding it, but it resists my every effort. Given enough time, I would discover its weakness, but since you are here…” Sombra finished his statement with a curved grin sharp as the blades at his side.

“If my scrying has been accurate, then beyond lay the vaults. Inside you’ll find all the dirty little secrets and treasures the priestesses were too afraid to let loose. Among them is your little sickle, and the prize I’ve long sought. Take whatever strikes your fancy, all I require as payment is a simple gem. A crystal the size of a pony’s eye, dark as night, with a pink core. Bring that to me, and we’ll be even.”

“And, how are we supposed to get past this wall if the mighty Sombra can’t?” Growler snarled.

“These walls are meant to keep out those they judge as unworthy,” I stated, moving to Sylph’s side. I had read of the walls while studying with Crisp Winds. Almost unbreakable, they weren’t flawless. “What they see as worthy, however…” 

I tapped my chin a few times, then, on a whim, I pushed my hoof into the barrier. There was a little tickling sensation, like an early spring breeze, and then nothing. It was as if the curtain wasn’t even there. Taking a guess, I stepped into the wall as Growler and Sylph called my name. After a fleeting instant of resistance not unlike stepping into a lake I passed through the wall. 

“Velvet, are you alright?” Growler’s voice came through the wall, warbling and distorted.

“Whatever it looks for, I have it,” I called back. 

There was a discussion on the other side. I could make out a few heated words, and then the curtain exploded with an angry, maroon sheen that snapped and hissed. There were a few seconds of silence that filled my heart with dread, followed by the unmistakable sound of Sylph’s laughter. As I was about to ask what had happened, the wall returned to its placid state, Sylph stepping through the enchantment. 

Her eyes twinkled with mischievous delight as she cantered to me, saying, “He bounced right off, like a stone skipping across water.” Sylph paused to grab her belly as she was wracked by a long bout of giggles that brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

“It’s not funny!” Growler shouted to us, his wounded pride clear in his voice.

Laughter is infectious, and before long I was shaking as I tried to hold back my guffaws. It proved to be an impossible battle as images of Growler charging the barrier, only to bounce back, his legs cartwheeling, danced in my head. The laughter felt good, needed, and it was some time before Sylph and I calmed enough to progress. 

Unlike those above, these tunnels were untouched or spoiled by Sombra’s pillaging. Along the walls, faerie torches burnt, casting our faces in a flickering blue glow. The dust was thick about our hooves, and the passages echoed with our breath. No draugen blocked our path, thankfully. With just Sylph at my side, I’m not sure if we’d have managed to defeat the tomb’s guardians.

Finding the vaults proved to be rather easy. The portion of Gamla Uppsala that contained the vaults had only the singular purpose. A long corridor, it contained only a single door, behind which sat a trove of almost forgotten treasure. It was made of the thickest steel and covered in glowing runes. A small, round window allowed pony or elk to peek inside and glimpse the wonders within.

On the other side, I saw a simple, round room with a dozen altars lining the wall, each with its own alcove. Upon the altars rested artifacts terrible and beautiful. The first I saw was a scroll, one that whispered blackness and despair. There was something wrong about the parchment, but at a distance I could not tell what. My skin crawling, I backed away from the door.

While I had been looking through the window, Sylph had been inspecting the runes. 

“Now what?” I asked Sylph, looking from the door to her.

“How should I know?” She protested, waving her hooves at the door. “There aren’t any songs or stories about opening Gamla Uppsala’s vaults! That isn’t the sort of thing that would be recorded, now is it?”

“Okay then…” I said, grabbing the vault door’s handle and pushing. 

Naturally, the door easily ignored my effort to open it.

Growling, I hit the door with a magical punch, more to vent frustration than an honest attempt to open it. The door resisted for a few seconds before there was a sharp snap, the entire thing falling inward, hinges and locks disintegrating into showers of rust. With an almighty bang it landed, the wards meant to prevent the door opening dying in haphazard flickers across its broad face.

Coughing, Sylph and I backed away, tensing as we listened for any additional noise. When none came, we both breathed and stepped into the vault. The first artefact we went to was the scroll. Up close, I could see now why it was so unnerving, for beneath the ancient runes painted on it in blood were cutie marks. The parchment was infact leather made of tanned ponies.

“The Scrolls of Seven Sins,” Sylph hissed, backing away from the vile artefact. I was about to ask what they were, when she turned to me and said, “They belonged to Tirek, or so it is said in the Ballad of Dream Valley.”

“Not what we’re looking for, then,” I muttered as we moved along the line of altars.

It didn’t take us long to find what we sought: the Golden Sickle and the Dreamer’s Crystal. 

Like the scrolls, and the other artefacts, they were placed out in the open, as if on display. At the base of the sickle’s altar was the mummified corpse of a halla. His back rested against the rough-hewn stone, watching the door with empty eyes. At his side sat a warmace made from some dark blue metal. 

“There are probably traps,” Sylph began to warn, but I paid her little attention as I snatched the sickle from it’s resting place.

As Sylph predicted, wards began to flash along the ceiling, the entirety of Gamla Uppsala trembling as the earth began to shake. Klaxons sounded down the passage, followed by a low, echoing moan that reverberated throughout the complex. From the wards above our heads, an orange wisp descended, twisting around us before shooting into the dead halla. 

A ghastly glow took to his eyes, and for the first time in untold ages, the halla stood in all his terrible glory, now as a draugen lord. 

With ashen faces, Sylph and I looked at each other in disbelief before rushing from the vault. I made it only a few strides before skidding to a stop. Turning, I reached out with my magic and snatched the Dreamer’s Crystal from its resting place. 

Tossing it and the sickle to Sylph, my friend looking back as she exited the vault, I shouted, “Run!” before being struck side-on by the draugen lord’s warmace.

If Sylph protested or attempted to assist me, I do not know. I recall the blow with clarity, followed by the explosion of pain across my entire right side. For what seemed like hours, I floated through the air, rolling and twisting until I slammed into unyielding stone. What little air remained in my lungs gushed forth along with a wet substance. Stars burst like nova across my vision, and my entire head rang like the bells of Notre-Dame de la Chanson had taken residence.

As my vision cleared and my breath returned in halting gasps, I looked up to see the draugen lord towering above me, warmace raised to crush what remained of my life. Panic gripped my heart, and in my fear all my spells deserted me. I couldn’t recall any of the dozens of formulae given to me by my masters among the Ravens and Bears. All I could do was draw my blade in a sloppy parry, turning the descending warmace aside at the last instant. 

In a shower of sparks and broken metal, my sword was shattered, though it had saved my life. The warmace smashed into the floor between the draugen lord and I, cracking the ancient stones and sending us both tumbling into the dark abyss of the catacombs beneath Gamla Uppsala. 


> Part Five
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Five


Consciousness was slow to return, a thick morass hanging over my mind as I rose from the dreamless depths within which I had been submerged. 

When I did claw and scrape my way back to the realm of the living, I found myself laying on my side next to a tumbled pile of stone. Above me, the hole into which I had fallen was sealed. Groaning, I moved to a sitting position, taking stock of my injuries and provisions. 

The former I found to not be so severe. From the stiffness of my chest, I suspected a few bruised or cracked ribs, but they lacked the sharp, distinct pain of being broken. That was a feeling I’ll never forget, sustained while battling a dire bear the previous fall. Likewise, my legs were okay, aside a few minor abrasions. All together, it was nothing I couldn’t mend with a healing spell.

Calling on the necessary runes, one of which would have gotten me exiled from any nation other than the Taiga, I set about mending myself.

As I channelled the spell, I discovered that when it came to my provisions and supplies, I had been far less fortunate. My water pouches had all been torn, their contents lost. My sword was ruined, half the blade shattered. My kite shield had at least fared well enough, and had probably saved my life during the fall and subsequent cave-in. Likewise, my armour was dinged and dented. I cringed at the sight of my beloved armour with such wounds. I had some food remaining, but not near enough to survive long. Not that it mattered. I would die of dehydration long before I starved. 

Determined to find my way back to the sun, I stood and slowly began to move in what I hoped was an upwards direction. 

Lighting my path with magic, I discovered that wherever I had fallen was older than the vaults. The dust was far thicker around my hooves, my every step kicking it up into a cloud that bit at my nose and throat with each breath I took and stung my eyes.

There was not even a sign of the draugen within the tunnels, even the spirits writing them off as irrelevant. Or perhaps they’d been commanded to avoid that portion of Gamla Uppsala. 

Time passed in a wallowing blur, each moment bleeding into the next. All I knew was the darkness waiting just beyond my magic and the empty tunnels and rooms of the tomb. I found storerooms filled with supplies that had rotted away centuries prior to my birth. After the third, I gave up searching them for anything usable.

It was then I came to a curious door.

The door was smaller than the others, in a little nook I almost overlooked as I shuffled along the passageway. I hesitated, figuring it to be another useless storeroom or perhaps a dormitory, but something about the room called to me. Curiosity danced through me, wondering why this door was different, pushed away from the others as if the halla that had placed it wanted to forget where they put it. 

Slowly, I went to the door and peeked into the room beyond.

I had almost expected my curiosity to be rewarded with yet another storeroom. Instead, what I beheld was a two-tiered chamber. From the upper level, a pair of stairs descended to the lower area. Marked by a ring of pillars carved in the likenesses of the Halla’s guiding spirits, the room veritably hummed with ancient power. What truly grabbed my attention was my magic’s light glinting off something metallic.

Licking my lips in anticipation of finding I knew not what, only thankful of something to break the tedium of my searching, I pushed the door open. Glancing around for any draugen guarding the room, I slowly made my way down the stairs and to the room’s heart. 

There, upon an altar, held in an ornate gold stand speckled with gems, was the most beautiful sword I’ve ever seen. Her blade shone beneath a beam of light brought down into the chamber through the ingenious use of mirrors, unmarred by dust or time. 

I can still close my eyes and see clearly the froliking pegasi formed of swirling inlays upon the cross piece and down the hilt. A window into the ancient era, when mighty Marelantis ruled the oceans and Unicornia was but a few hovels built in the shadows cast by the towering Pyranese and Alps, constantly fearful of the griffons across the Mareteranean. Along the fuller, written in a lost tongue, are a series of runes that formed two words: Thuëlya and Wyrgard. Set into the pommel is a blue diamond of immense clarity that seems to gaze back at those who look upon it. When grasped with magic, the sword clings to you, unwilling to be released and almost impossible to be taken. She is power; addictive and unrelenting.     

“She is beautiful, no?” wheezed a broken voice from within the shadows. 

I jumped back from the sword, drawing my own broken blade and angling the fractured tip towards the voice.

Chains clinked as somepony moved, the darkness resolving itself into a broken and haggard shape. 

A pegasus mare, older than any pony I’d ever seen before or since, shuffled forth. Her wings were bare of all by a few stubborn pinions, her coat matted and scraggly. She had no mane, having fallen out completely long ago.

“No need to look so frightened, child,” the ancient pegasus chortled, drawing towards me on languid hooves. “I will not harm thee.”

I gave the predictable response of the young, saying, “I am not frightened.”

“Liar, or a fool. I wonder which is better?” 

The ancient mare tapped her chin in an exaggerated parody of contemplation, one that made her chains rattle. My eyes followed the iron links to where they were bolted to the wall. Magic had been wrapped around the chains, preventing them from rusting into frailty. Strewn about the sheltered alcove in which the mare had been hidden were a bed and table, both fashioned from stone. 

Swallowing a snappish response as I turned back to the ancient mare, I instead asked, “Who are you? How long have you been here?”

“Since the trees were but saplings, the Queens walked among mortals, and magic was pure and unfettered by baseless fear. I have not seen the sun in two thousand years.”

“That’s impossible,” I snorted, “you’re speaking perfect Equestrian, for one thing, and it didn’t exist in its present form until three hundred years ago.”

“Am I, child? Or are you speaking perfect Lemarean?” The ancient mare smiled, her chains clinking and rattling as she moved to sit on the other side of the altar holding the sword.

“Stop calling me that! What is a ‘child’?” 

“A mortal in the years between being a baby and an adult. Young, inexperienced, and full of exuberance,” explained the ancient mare with a cruel patience, as if she had to dumb down everything she said. “But, if you prefer, tell me your name and I will use that instead.”

Without thinking, I said, “Velvet, Velvet Sparkle of the Waki’Nin.”

“Velvet Sparkle of the Waki’Nin, a fine name.” The ancient mare’s hard features softened slightly as she spoke my name. Looking from me to the blade, she continued before I could speak again. “I saw you admiring her form. A weapon with few equals. Beautiful, precise, compassionate to her friends, cruel to her enemies. Her name is Llallawynn, guardian of the pure. Take her, if you want.”

“Huh? Just like that?” Puzzled, I glanced between sword and mare. 

Disoriented, tired, and emotionally drained, I didn’t think that it could have been a trap. All I knew was that I had some company, strange as it was, and that back in the tunnels lurked death.  

“Llallawynn is only one of the gifts I have to give, Velvet Sparkle,” the ancient pegasus said, her lips cracking as she smiled. Lifting a trembling hoof she pointed to the wall to my left. 

Etched into the stone were a series of symbols and equations. I recognized them as a the formula for spells, but the exact nature of them eluded me. The runes in particular were like nothing I’d ever seen before. They seemed to twist and writhe upon the wall. I couldn’t look at them directly, my eyes quickly darting away as if stung.

“What are they?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with a hoof.

“They are Dark Runes,” the ancient mare said, wheezing as she slowly shuffled towards the wall. 

“I… I’ve never heard of Dark Runes before,” I whispered, squinting and trying to force myself to read the formula, curiosity getting the better of me.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” came the amused reply. “To understand the Dark Runes you must understand the origins of everything.” The ancient mare ran a hoof over the runes, they in turn recoiling as if stung by her touch. “Before fair Ioka was born and began to swim through the boundless abyss of space. Before the first mortal soul was forged by the breaths of a thousand dying gods. Before the grains of time began to tumble like an endless waterfall. Before everything else; there was the Far Realm. Within the Far Realm thought and reality were indistinguishable. It existed for a period uncounted and for but a fraction of a moment before it was sundered apart and reality as we know it came to be.”

“I really don’t need to—”

“Yes, you do need to know this. It is important. The foundation upon which all magic exists is based upon the remnants of the Far Realm, swirling, churning, flowing through all things.” The ancient mare gave me a foul glare, her cracked lips pulling back to reveal yellow, broken teeth. “You know of three types of Runes; Elemental, Harmonic and Bright. But when I walked this world, before The Beast brought chaos and ruin upon all, we knew of two others; Chaotic and Dark.” 

The ancient mare slammed her hoof against the formula etched into the wall, the runes squirming faster for a moment, and I swear I heard them hissing.

“Of the Chaotic Runes I will not speak. I am not their Keeper.” She turned to me, and then said in a low voice. “But the Dark Runes… They I must share with you. I have waited these past two thousand years for one worthy to carry them. Waited since our Queen left us to travel with her sister. Waited to pay my final penance and be released of this prison. Waited since I abandoned my sisters for foolish, selfish reasons.”

I gulped as the ancient mare left the wall and approached me. Close up I could smell the stench of her breath, like rotting pine needles and skunk weed. Fighting back my gag reflex, I warily watched her turn and sit at my side.

“Have you ever wondered about the saying ‘when you wish upon a falling star’?”

I blinked and stuttered for a response at the sudden shift in conversation and demeanor. The ancient mare had a sadness about her black eyes, and for a moment I thought her about to cry.

“No. Just the old legends about a midnight blue mare who could grant wishes when a star fell.”

“Heh, her. Yes, I can see how those legends would form. She was our caretaker for a short time. But, she betrayed my sisters, and so almost all of them have turned from her.” The ancient mare shook her scraggly mane, a low chortle making her withered frame tremble. “After my time though. After my betrayal. She was never my caretaker. Oh, no, never mine.”

I looked the mare over as my mind attempted to fit her mad ramblings together. Despite being so old and decrepit, I could feel a great deal of magic coming from her. In her prime she’d have been exceedingly powerful. But surely not powerful enough to stave off death for two thousand years. 

“You speak as if you are a star. Who are you?” I asked again, and this time she answered.

“I am Algol, the Demon Star,” she gave me a wicked grin, her eyes seeming to become a bright green in the flickering torchlight. “And it is the magic of the demons I am here to teach you.” With that she reached forward, grabbing my face in her hooves, eyes aglow with jade fire, and in them I saw terrible things. Things that burned themselves upon my soul. 







“Demons?” Shining scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Mother, that’s not even the stuff of myth. No pony believes that they ever existed. Not even the craziest archaeologists and researchers of magic lore.”

Velvet didn’t mind the interruption, just tilting her head as if to ask, ‘who is telling the story?’

Before Shining could respond, a new voice entered the room through the door. It was one that was known to all of Equestria; a soft voice, cultured and tempered by many years. Both Velvet and Shining gave a start, turning to see Princess Celestia alongside her niece.

“Demons are very real, Shining Armour, and so is their magic. It is also forbidden, and has been so since the Third Reformation removed any trace of them and their magic’s existence,” Princess Celestia said, her hoofsteps carefully measured as she entered the room.

“Your Divine Highness,” Velvet and Shining said together, both jumping up to perform a bow to the princess.

“My apologies for intruding unannounced into your home, Baroness Sparkle,” Celestia said, returning the bows with a slight incline of her head, “but Cadence told me it was urgent I see Tyr.”

On the bed Tyr had grown frightfully still, her blue eyes impossibly wide. She cringed and shrunk away from Celestia as the princess approached and then sat upon the bed.

“There is no need to be afraid, my little pony,” Celestia said in a soothing voice. “I only want to help you. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tyr made to protest, but the encouraging looks of those around her made her hesitate, and after a few long minutes, give her consent. Rolling Tyr onto her stomach, the first things Celestia checked were the filly’s withers where her wings used to be. The magic used to bind Tyr’s wings was still, even after weeks, red and angry. Celestia didn’t like how the magic wasn’t settling, but there was nothing more that could be done without great risk. 

“How many of the Dark Runes do you know?” Celestia asked as if making polite conversation as she began a more mundane examination. 

Velvet shifted a little, looking to the other side of the room where the rest of her family stood having followed the princesses. She wondered what they would think when the truth emerged. Would they hate her? Would they forgive her? Velvet was unsure which she feared more.

“All of them, ma’am.”      

“All of them,” Celestia repeated. Nothing more was said for some minutes as Celestia examined Tyr, looking in the filly’s eyes and beneath her tongue, much as a doctor would. Unlike a doctor, there was no talk of unbalanced humours or any of the myriad little quirks they used. “What are you going to do with them?” Celestia asked as finished and tucked Tyr back in the bed.

“I planned to take them to my grave, ma’am,” Velvet easily admitted.

“That’s a shame,” Celestia gave no indication if she was joking or serious as she moved to sit beside the bed, rather than on it. “The paranoia of the Third Reformation resulted in a great loss of magical lore. The runes and spells you know should be preserved.”

“I thought you said they were forbidden,” Shining blanched as the words left his mouth, sitting at attention as Celestia turned to regard the former Captain of her guard.

A little light of bemusement showing in her eyes, Celestia said, “I did. There are very, very few beings left that know any of the Dark runes. I know only four, myself. Luna knows perhaps a dozen or so. If Velvet knows them all, than that is a rare gift. From what you said in your story —my apologies for listening in, I was curious— it was a fallen star that gave you the runes?” Velvet nodded. “Then Twilight might not know them. That would be interesting as the stars themselves are comprised of Black magic.” 

“Are you saying my sister is,” Shining paused to work his jaw before whispering, “a witch?”

“What? Of course not,” Celestia gave a bemused laugh after she spoke. “I can not say much more as the origins of the stars are a mystery, except that their special magic requires trades and sacrifices. Only when a star falls can a wish be granted by the magic released, you know. Twilight herself, she is a good hearted pony, and I would not want to call her a witch.”

Gulping, Shining was startled when Velvet said, “A good heart is not always enough, and there are some tests that nopony should have to take. That is why I will not allow these runes to be passed on. They are not meant for us, Princess.”

“No, they are not,” Celestia agreed, “but preserving them is not the same as passing them on.”

Velvet gave a violent shake of her head. “No!” Taking a quick breath to calm herself, she said much softer, “No, these… runes are a blight. I swore to see them gone, and so I will. By the end of my story, you’ll know why.”

“Your story is not yet finished,” Celestia pointed out, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I’m sorry I can not stay to hear it.” Briskly standing, Celestia made her way to the door, saying over her withers, “Keep her warm and comfortable, I’ll return shortly.”

The door closed softly behind Celestia, leaving a sullen silence in her passing. Velvet looked around the room, and saw all of her family deep in thought. Her husband and wives’ silence worried her most of all, as did the regret flickering behind Comet and Glitterdust’s eyes. 

There was one, however, who seemed almost eager now that Celestia was gone. Tyr looked up from her bed with wide, inquisitive eyes that could only belong to the young of spirit.

“So… more story?” Tyr suggested sweetly. 

“Yes, more story,” Velvet replied, a worried frown on her muzzle and pressing back her ears as fears of what her family would think over what was to come next. .







I was trapped in that chamber for days, existing in a world of shifting shadows and expectant whispers. Within my head the runes fought amongst themselves, not truly alive, but with an awareness and glee. I could feel their desires; a primal, animalistic urge to burst into the world through me. 

With the runes echoed Algol’s final words.

“You must be ever vigilant, child. Find something to hold onto, a light to warm your heart against the runes, or they will leave you cold and empty inside. I would say I am sorry for what you will endure —and you must endure— but I am not. This is my last warning; beware of using Love. She can be as cruel as she is soft, hard as dragon-scale, sharper than steel, and colder than the deepest winter night beneath an indifferent moon. You must find something, but beware of Love.”  

As I lay floating between awareness and the shadows, Algol grew quiet. I tried to speak to her, to coax her help, but all I received was silence. How I hate that mare and what she cursed me to carry, and in the pitch black of the tomb my heart began to grow bitter and tired. There was no light, no enchanted torches or flickering runes to grant sight. Madness threatened to claim me, the whispers growing louder until they threatened to crack my mind asunder.

I could not get any lower. Trapped, alone, cursed, and afraid. 

My eyes stung with dust and tears as I tried to push the runes back. In return I received a jolt of pain at the base of my horn, arcing down my neck to my frantically beating heart. On the precipice of giving up, of surrendering myself to the runes’ cruel advances, I saw a silver hint of light. Turning my head, I observed Llallawynn upon her altar, the sword’s blade glowing with starlight.

Into the curtain of light stepped a spectre, her coat pale as smoke, a pony that I knew to be dead and in Elysium.  

“Mother?” I asked, my voice rough and dry, cracking within my throat. 

The spectre stepped closer, allowing me to see that she was not my mother. With a mane the colour of honeysuckle that fell in great curling waves and eyes of a sharp, piercing green, she was a rare beauty. But more telling was that the spectre had no horn, and when she turned to step around the sword I saw she possessed wings of an Imperial Pegasus.

“Who are you?” I asked the spectre as I attempted to sit, only to find my body would not respond. 

“I am Wynn, seventh of the Valla,” the spectre said, sitting at my side and with a wing brushing a lock of mane out of my eyes. 

Behind the spectre, Llallawynn’s blade hummed brighter with each word spoken. 

“You’re the sword?”

“Yes and no,” the spectre frowned, shaking her cascading mane. “That is unimportant, however. What is important is leaving Gamla Uppsala.”

“I can’t even move,” I pointed out.

Smiling and laughing, the sound reminiscent of raindrops falling upon a moon-lit pond, Wynn replied, “That is only because you are dreaming.”   

My brow shot upwards at the statement while my mouth would have fallen to Tartarus, if it were possible.

“But, I dreamt already this year!”

Wynn simply shrugged at the statement, either not caring or not worried by my response.

“If that is your concern, you are far lighter of heart and spirit than I had dared hope. This is good. It means you may weather the coming storms.” Wynn laughed again, then grew more somber. “My sister is correct that you need to shield yourself from the runes she has passed to you. But wrong about Love. It will be your greatest ally in the weeks and years to come. Surround yourself in it, wrap it tight about your withers is if it were a cloak, and never let go.

"Even then, you must always be wary of the Dark runes. They are temptation itself, promising easy power to those willing to pay their toll.”

“You and Algol both mention using emotions to ward off the runes…” I said from the floor. “What will happen if I use them? The runes?”

“If you don’t find something to shield yourself, they will drain you of joy, sadness, anger, and even hate, leaving you nothing but a shell that moves and speaks with Velvet’s voice, but you would no longer be her. You will be as dead inside as the draugen. That is the toll the Dark runes demand of those whom possesses them.

“But, it is not all bleak and terrible. You need not ever summon their power,” Wynn smiled as she spoke, her wing lifting my head to her breast.  

“Also, know this; I pledge my existence to you and those of your line. To those born of your blood, should their hearts prove true, I will cut any foe as if they wore but sackcloth; whether armoured in steel, magic, or dragon-scale. No other will be able to wield me. For them my blade will be dull as weathered stone.” Wynn bent down to kiss me on my brow. “Now wake, take me up, and we will escape this fetid hole.” 

My eyes opened to find myself laying on the hard stone, the orange glow of enchanted torches around me. Next to me, Algol lay dead, her empty eyes staring into oblivion, and a smile of relief on her cracked lips. 

Every muscle ached as I stood, attempting to ignore the body beside me. My hooves wobbled, tingling from disuse, and threatened to collapse beneath me. 

From her stand, I took Llallawynn, cringing and listening for any sign of setting off another trap. When nothing occurred I allowed myself to take a shallow breath of musty air. Sliding Llallawynn into my scabbard and wrapping my old sword in the remains of my cloak, I left the chamber.

Stumbling through the tomb with no idea which way to go, I trusted my fate to the Queen.

“Iridia, hear me,” I chanted, “guide me from this crypt, and I will dedicate all the rest of my days to your service. Iridia, guide me, let me hold my filly again, and I will sing the praises of your name.” 

Over and over I repeated the words, never expecting an answer or sign. They only ceased flowing as I heard a slow shuffling mirroring my steps. Snapping my mouth shut, I glanced over my withers and beheld the glowing eyes of Gamla Uppsala’s guardians. 

They watched me with angry countenances, a dozen of the reanimated guardians, lead by the draugen lord. 

Stepping into an ancient temple, a statue of the Queen towering over broken benches and rotten iron stands, I drew Llallawynn for the first of many times. Her blade burned like a silver sun, forming a barrier between me and the draugen. 

Licking my lips, I thought of River, of Growler, of Sylph and the Triplets. I thought of how I was not going to die alone and forgotten within the tomb.

“Come then, and know death once more,” I wanted to say, but my lips refused to move, my parched tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

With a horrendous howl, the draugen threw themselves upon me. Lallawynn flashed up, bisecting the closest of the draugen while the magic coating my horn grew brighter as I called upon my spells. Adrenaline surged through my veins, along with the burning humm of magic. Emerald flames curled from my horn, striking down draugen after draugen, but they kept coming, like relentless waves on a stormy shore. 

Drawing on my training among the Bears like never before, I moved back and forth across the ruined temple. Undead flesh was split time and again, the cuts at first clean and efficient, slowly becoming quick and opportunistic. 

My armour was battered repeatedly, torn from my back and legs until only a few rent scraps dangled from my body. My faithful kite shield hovered at my side, reduced to a splintered wreck. I began to grow careless, a blow from the draugen lord shattering what remained of my shield and sending me sprawling at the base of the statue. I took slow, laboured breaths, my body bruised and bloody as I pulled myself into a sitting position. Recalling Llallawynn to my side, I looked up to see the draugen lord approach.

Through pools of green fire, the draugen lord strode forward, its mighty black hammer held in flickering orange magic, soulless eyes fixated on me. Hammer met sword, sparks flashing as the weapons connected in a deafening ring.

I called upon my emerald fire again, only to have it swatted aside by the dread lord. His magic found my throat, hoisting me to his face. Gasping for any strangled breath I could steal, I felt my concentration slip and heard Llallawynn ring as she struck the stone floor. Fear gripped me, and in my desperation drew upon the Dark runes. The runes hissed in joy as they answered my summons. 

The spells Algol had cursed me to carry spun through my mind, and blindly I grabbed at the first one.

It was not a simple spell. Formed from a half dozen runes, it was a complex summoning formula. 

My terror grew as I realised my mistake. I had never been skilled at Conjuration spells, always preferring either my blade, kite shield or Evocations. This spell was far beyond anything I had attempted before. Failure to complete the spell was certain, as was my death shortly after. 

I was already committed, the spell’s base formed and the framework taking shape in my mind’s eye.

It was then I discovered the intoxicating power I’d been warned about.

The runes felt my intent and bound themselves together of their own accord completing the spell for me as if it were foal’s play. My mana flowed as if I had performed the spell a hundred times. Along with it, something else coursed from me into the spell, something the runes eagerly consumed.

All that mattered to me at that moment was the a spear taking shape at my side, vile intent glowing through its length. Barely aware of what I was doing as spots popped throughout my vision, I hurled the spear at the draugen lord. The grip upon my throat vanished, sending me back to the cold stone floor where I gasped and choked on the sweet tasting musty air of the tomb. 

Blinking as my sight returned, I looked up to see the dread lord pinned to the ceiling. He struggled for a few moments before the spirit animating his undead flesh abandoned the body. 

Once used, the Dark runes howled louder in my ears. I glanced at the remaining lesser draugen, anger making my heart beat faster. Using the runes, I formed a primitive spell, my magic turning from emerald to an ashen cloud. Grabbing the nearest of the draugen, I lifted the undead above my head, and then tore it in half, dropping the remains to either side. 

All I had to do was touch the runes, and they’d begin to form of their own accord into formula, forming spell after spell, and coaxing such terrible rage. I was so angry. It was like a pool and I was floating upon its surface. If I  closed my eyes and let myself be subsumed beneath the boiling waves it would grant me the strength I needed to see those I loved again. 

When the rage at last subsided, I stood spent in the middle of the ruined temple alone and empty with only the lingering traces of magic on the air for company. Llallawynn slept once more, the blade resonating with a calm I could not feel. Wincing as I picked up the sword and returned her to her sheath, I looked for an exit. I couldn’t bring myself to glance at the blade for long, worried she’d be looking back at me with judging eyes.

Bordering on exhaustion, I staggered from the temple, my hooves dragging in the dust. I took corners and passages at random, only once encountering one of the draugen before finding a break in the endless passages of the catacombs. My magic came in a thin, wavering gasp as I dispatched the draugen and then returned to my stumbling search. 

A cool breeze rushing down the passages called to me like the song of a siren, beckoning my weary hooves onward.

An underground stream had worn a hole into the wall, and through it I could smell fresh air and the scent of pine and moss. My legs were like lead, my head a swimming sea of emptiness, when I finally pulled myself from the earth. For a few yards, I staggered until I collapsed on the bank of Lion Lake.

I laid there on my side, staring up at the stars twinkling above, and feeling utterly hollow inside. 

The snap of a twig sent a little jolt through me. Too tired to draw Llallawynn or call upon any of my spells, all I could do was turn my head. 

A group of dryads stood by the water’s edge, their eyes watching me with wonder and fear. The largest of the group, an oak dryad with a hide of white bark and mane of tangled lichen, cautiously approached me. She was old, well into her seventh century, with the marks of a hard lived life carried in her pale, yellow eyes. Her hooves moved with practiced caution, and I can not say I blame her.

I tried to reach for her. I needed to hold somepony, anypony. I needed something to break the hollowness that had taken root in my heart. In the approaching dryad, and those watching from the lake’s shore, I saw salvation and hope. 

“Help me,” I managed to say in a dry croak before exhaustion finally consumed me. 

     

> Part Six
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Six


“Have you heard her ladyship?” asked Halfpint, one of Sparkle Manor’s valetes, to miss Darning, a maid. “She’s been up in Lady Tyr’s rooms, spinning a yarn about demons and black magic.”

“You should mind your tongue,” snapped Mrs. Hardtack, the manor’s senior butler and head of staff. “If her ladyship wishes to tell her granddaughter a story filled with all sorts of things, far be it from us to gossip about it.”

“But, demons? The undead?” Halfpint shook his head before looking down to the silverware he’d been polishing. “A load of rubbish, if you ask me.”

“No one is asking you, Mr. Halfpint.” Mrs. Hardtack gave the young valet her sternest glare, and given she’d been a captain’s steward in the navy before joining Sparkle Manor, it was a glare that could strip fresh paint and make dogs whimper as they rushed for dark places in which to hide. “And if you wish to remain employed here, you’d do well to keep such talk to yourself. Why, if half the things her ladyship has said are true, and—need I remind you Princess Celestia herself took her ladyship at her word—she could strip the hide from your back herself.”

Mrs. Hardtack gave a sharp nod, picking up a tea tray and sliding it atop her head with practiced ease. Naturally, the moment she stepped out of the kitchen and made her way towards the upper floors, the other servants returned to their gossiping.

“It’s not real though, right? She’s only telling the little lady a story, right?” Miss Darning whispered in her timid way, eyes darting to see if Mrs. Hardtack would return to scold them some more. 

“That’s right, you lot don’t know what it was like when the lady returned home, do you?” said Mr. Cane. He was an older pegasus with a worldly pinch at the corners of his eyes and a slight limp where he’d lost his right wing in an accident. He was as much a fixture of the manor as the mortar in the walls, and all the staff—even Mrs. Hardtack—looked up to him with a reverence of sorts. “Her youngest sister had just passed away when her ladyship appeared on the step. All she possessed was a simple leather satchel and a set of daggers still covered in the dried blood of the last life they’d taken. I was new to the manor then, and had the responsibility of helping her settle and adjust. Especially with what happened next, all the petty wars and power-plays of the nobles, and an heir returned from the wilds. For weeks she would wake in the middle of the night, screaming and crying.”

The kitchen seemed to darken as Mr. Cane spoke, not looking up from the suit he was mending. When he did glance up, there was none of the tenderness he normally expressed upon his broad face. It was a look that had seen Tartarus, and feared to see it again.

“Dreams? B-but, unicorns don’t dream but once a year, Mr. Cane,” Darning said, looking to the other servants for support.

Cane gave his head a slow shake. “Aye, that is true. Normal unicorns only dream once a year… Our lady is not a normal unicorn. You’ve all, except Halfpint, seen the young lords and ladies grow up, and naturally, the softer side of lady Velvet as she manages the House. I saw her darker-side. The side she needed to cultivate in order to not only survive, but thrive out there in the northern lands. Whether the story she is spinning is true or not, I can’t say. What I can is that I believe it.” 

His words, though quiet, struck like a hammer upon the rest of the staff. The kitchen was silent as each of the others took in his meaning, their faces growing pale behind their coats.

“She is not called the Baroness of the Blade for her tongue alone,” Cane continued as he tucked away his thread and needle. “House Sparkle is what it is today because of her. The world is what it is, because of her. Now, you all best mind your duty.”

None of the other staff saw Mr. Cane’s private smirk as they bolted for the stairs leading up to the manor’s living quarters.  

Up in the salon, laughter and joy reigned supreme. Almost all the Sparkles had gathered for tea. While Velvet herself was missing, still sitting with Tyr in her bedroom, the rest of the house were present. Comet sat with his elder sons, Shining and Two-Step, playing cards. Their sister, Limelight, sipped her tea, watching their younger siblings out of the corner of her eye while also trying to chat with Whisper and Glitterdust. Star, freshly home from her second semester at Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns was describing the spells and theories she’d learned during the previous year and playing a game of Ponopoly with her brother, Adamant, and sisters, the twins Elegant and Melody.

The door opened, and Pennant Sparkle stepped into the room, a look of profound satisfaction on her face. 

“I’ve passed my lieutenant exam,” she said waving a telegram, setting off a storm of congratulations and hugging. Sitting down next to Limelight, Pennant glanced around the room and quickly noted the drawn, pensive looks of her parents and older brothers. “Whatever is the matter with you? It’s as if you’d just discovered Twilight had eloped with Blueblood.”

“I think, if that had happened, mother would be a sight more pleased,” Shining commented without looking up from his cards. Comet gave a low guffaw, while Two-Step rolled his eyes. Noticing the glare Pennant leveled at him, Shining placed his cards down on the table, saying, “It is Tyr. She’s unwell. Which you’d know if you’d arrived on time, rather than hung around Canterlot.”

“Its been non-stop festivities, parties, and, as a Sparkle, I had open access to any I wished. Of course I stayed, Shiny. I needed to—”

“Act like a drunken fool, I know,” Shining grumbled, standing abruptly as Glitterdust and Comet both demanded he apologize. “I will not,” he stated as he made his way to the door. “You’ve read the papers and seen the pictures of her acting, not like an officer of Their Highnesses Navy, but like a diamond dog with two gold bits to rub together.” 

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you and Twilight, Shining,” Pennant called back, not masking the venom in her voice. “Nose stuck in my own plot or books, not caring what goes on beyond the end of my horn. Twilight’s semi-exile to that insignificant speck of a town was the best thing to happen to her and this House. It’s a blessing she isn’t our real sister and no longer Velvet’s heir. If she’d become the matron of House Sparkle, I shudder to think at our prospects. She’d have ruined the House inside a year. But what do you care? You’re of House Invictus now, married to a perfect princess, with all the disc laid at your hooves.”

“Pennant, that is enough!” Comet barked, the fire in his eyes making his daughter wilt.

It wasn’t enough to make her completely stop, Shining and Pennant’s siblings each placing bets on the inevitable fight.     

Above them, Tyr awoke with a start, almost banging her head against Cadence’s as her mother brushed a warm cloth against her brow. 

“Mother?” Tyr asked, blinking away several hours of sleep. “When did you get back?”

“Shortly after Celestia left,” Cadence answered, giving Tyr a sweet smile. The smile vanished as the first thump of a body hitting a wall echoed through the manor. “I brought Shining’s sister with me, though I am thinking that was a poor choice.”

“Father will win,” Tyr said with unconditional confidence as the crack of a misfiring spell reverberated up to the trio of ponies in the room.

The sharp noise woke Velvet, the baroness leaping onto splayed hooves with a cry of, “Sylph!”, a powerful spell humming along the length of her horn. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger. Slowly, Velvet realised she was home, among friends and family, and not in the Taiga. Dismissing the spell around a yawn, Velvet asked, “How long?”

“A few hours, maybe more,” Cadence replied. “You and Shining were both asleep when I returned. He’s downstairs—”

“Fighting with Pennant, as usual,” Velvet mumbled, stretching her back with several pops timed to a series of crashes downstairs. “That filly needs to understand that being angry all the time won't make her my heir anymore than it will make time run backwards.”

Cadence simply frowned at the proclamation, glancing to the door, worry painted across her face. After another, much louder, crash, she started to stand, but halted when Velvet called to her.

“He can manage Pennant. She’s not half the fighter she thinks herself to be,” Velvet dismissed the fight with a casual flick of her tail. “Besides, if it gets out of hoof, they know I’ll step in. I may be getting on, but I can deal with them still.”

Neither Cadence nor Tyr looked particularly convinced.

“Now, where were we? Had I reached the Diamond Dogs yet?”

“Diamond Dogs? What are those?” Tyr crinkled her muzzle, though it may have been from the line of mucus running down her nose. Dabbing at Tyr’s face with a hoofkerchief, Cadence explained in brief detail the diamond dogs. “Oh, we don’t have anything like that back home. Not that I was told about, anyways.”

“Probably because the filthy mutts are the product of some stupid, mad scorceress.” Velvet didn’t hide her disgust, letting her words drip with scorn and hatred. “Despicable, loathsome, and wholly unredeemable. A blight for any land under which they occupy. Look at what nearly happened to Ponyville, and that was just a small wandering pack.”   

“How about we get back to the story, rather than talk racial politics?” Cadence gave Velvet a pointed look. 

“Yeah, I want to learn about the dryads!” Tyr lifted a hoof to rub her chin, bloodshot eyes squinting up at Velvet, adding, “I mean, I know a lot about them, obviously… Well, the Gaean dryads, that is.”  

“Okay, okay, I got it. Get on with the story, and all that.” Velvet gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “So, the dryads…”







Dryads: they are a peculiar race. Some believe they were once Earth ponies that grew too close to the plants they tended, forming illicit bonds with the trees. Others hold that they are cast-offs of some experiment gone wrong, products of a mad wizard lusting to create nymph slaves. The dryads themselves say that they are descended of Zir Nashéiall, their name for the First Tree, sprouting as saplings in the shade beneath her tremendous branches. 

Whatever their origins may be, it has long since faded to myth. 

They are peaceful, almost to a fault, but distrustful of outsiders to an extreme that makes the Halla seem welcoming in comparison. This isolation isn’t without reason. Dryads have long been associated with nymphs as thieves that steal stallions away to serve as ‘pollinators’. A lewd, superstitious fear I discovered as baseless. Dryads are monosexual, with no mares or stallions. They never mentioned how that works, and I was too embarrassed to ask.  

It was in the dryads’ care that I awoke. A light rain pattered across my parched lips, drawing me to the world of the living. Sol stung my eyes as I cracked them open, her light filtering through the forest canopy. Gingerly turning my head, I found I was laying on a bed of moss, a cover made from woven pine needles draped over me. 

For not the last time, my entire body ached as I pulled myself upright. There wasn’t a muscle that wasn’t bruised or stiff. Large welts could be seen clearly beneath my coat where the draugen had battered my armour, and my left eye was swollen almost shut. Testing my hooves, I found them able to support me enough that I could examine my surroundings.

Waves lapped on the shore a few yards from where I’d lain, the lake’s surface rippling as a mid-spring breeze blew from the south, carrying with it the sharp scent of flowers in bloom. My bed sat next to the cave, the entrance hidden in a little hollow beneath a short rise. Silver logs had been moved and used to block the entrance.
 
“You should rest,” a voice called from above the cave. “It’s not good to be up yet, oh no, not good.” 

“I don’t have time to rest,” I growled, taking further stock of my surroundings.

My things had been placed next to my bed, laid out with care. I gave a relieved sigh at seeing my bags and Llallawynn. My armour was, sadly, a complete loss. It would have taken a master badger to repair the damage. A basket of fruits and bread sat beside my gear. The painful squeeze in my stomach reminding me of my hunger, I reached for the basket first. What happiness had begun to form at being out of Gamla Uppsala died as a sharp pain lanced through my horn, driving me to the ground.

“You shouldn’t try magic,” the voice cautioned, a small head peering down at me over the ridge’s lip. “These are frόdhleikr hljόdh trees. Your spells won’t form so close to their branches.”

“The what?” I snarled at the dryad, driving her back below the ridge’s rim, and clutched my stinging horn.

“Magic silence, I believe is the translation. They should keep the dead things inside.” There were a few, hushed words as the voice spoke to another dryad. “You should rest some more. You spent almost all your magic escaping Gamla Uppsala.”

Seeing few other options for the moment, I did as suggested. Truthfully, I was too weary to stand or pace. Placing my chin on my hooves, I allowed myself to rest and recover.

“What is your name?” I asked my unseen companions after some time. 

There was a slight hesitation, more whispering, and then, “Juniper.”

Letting out a grunt, I waited for her to ask mine, and when she didn’t I supplied it anyways.

I received no response.  

Shrugging, I reached out with a hoof and brought the basket of food towards me. Eating with my hooves was an unusual experience. Savouring the warm flavour of the bread, I noticed a face peeking over the hole’s edge, watching me with mingled curiosity and dread. 

Her features were soft and rounded, a leafy mane falling over her honey-brown eyes. A little, black nose twitched, reminding me of an over-grown squirrel, followed by a large ear, the soft bark of her coat neither groaning nor snapping like I would have suspected. She darted back when she realised I’d seen her, only to slowly emerge again, a second and third dryad joining her this time.

“What is it?” the dryad on the left asked, and from the tenor of her voice I knew she had to be young. “Not a halla… its only got one horn.”

“Don’t be rude,” admonished the middle dryad, Juniper by her voice, casting a sharp look at the younger dryad. “She could be sick or deformed or hurt, and you wouldn’t want to upset her. She came out of the dead place covered in blood and with Gram at her side. The old ones say she is a sorceress and will bring destruction to the disc.”

“Then why do they help her? Give her food and water?” asked the third and youngest. “If she’s evil—” 

“Because, we do not turn away those whom seek our aid in peace.” The three heads shot up as a fourth spoke in a tone heavy with age. 

Stepping through some dry thistles without a rustle, the dryad I’d seen before passing out entered the little camp. Up close, and without the presence of extreme fatigue, I saw her to possess a soft authority. She limped as she moved, her right-foreleg slow and with limited movement. There were no clothes or adornments, and she didn’t even have a cutie mark, the dryads never possessing one.

“No matter how dark, nor how troubled their path has been, we treat all equally,” she continued, glancing up at the young dryads. “The tree shades the fox as it would the rabbit. Now, go on little saplings, your mothers are worried and I must speak with our guest.”

As the young dryads scampered off, the ancient hind sat down across from me. 

“It is good to see you awake. I worried it would be days or more for you to recover. I never imagined a pony to be so resilient.” She chuckled and shook her mane of dry lichen. “But, I never expected to see anyone ever wield the dark arts again. Oh, where are my manners? I am Mima, sometimes called Old Mima, or the weathered hag, depending on the mood.”

Remaining seated, I introduced myself.

“A pleasure, Sorceress Velvet,” Mima bowed her head, then reached for the leftover bread. She sniffed it, her muzzle crinkling, before placing it and the empty jug in the basket. 

“I hope you enjoyed the meal. It took some effort to make—”

“Please, don’t think me ungrateful, ma’am, but I don’t have time for idle chat.” I held up a hoof. “I must catch up to my friends. We have to be at lake Babine by mid-summer.”

“Friends?” Mima tilted her head, squinting at me. “You alone have come out of the dead place, Velvet.”

A cold dread gripped my throat, my heart seizing as I tried to process Mima’s words. 

“I went to bring the ancient one his rations the other day, and from the woods I beheld as he lead you bellow and the hallowed doors shut. For three days I watched, joined by the rest of the grove, but the doors did not re-open, nor did they exit from the cave, as you did.”

Mima spoke in a soft, comforting voice meant to dull the blow, but it fell with a terrible weight upon my withers just the same. I sagged into the matted bed of pine needles, all hope draining from my body. My eyes drifted to the piled logs, and for a moment I thought I may have heard Sylph or Growler calling my name. But it was just a trick of my ears.

Was it the collapse? Had they been trapped and cut-off as I had been? Had they turned on each other? Growler would not have left without me willingly. Perhaps they had fought over whether to search or to leave and continue the quest. 

No, I was certain that if Growler had made such an argument, Sombra would have simply left and re-opened the tomb. 

Something had to have happened to them; either they’d been caught in the collapse, or by the draugen. 

“I must go,” I said with all the force I could muster, my command having little effect on Mima. She just responded with a faint smile. That I could hardly stand didn’t help create the air of strength I wanted to convey. 

“Must you? You are not yet recovered. The root-ring on your horn is keeping the effects of magical exhaustion at bay.” 

My eyes flicked up as Mima gestured toward my brow, but I couldn’t see anything. Lifting a hoof, I felt something around the base of my horn. I began to remove the object, only to stop as a sharp spike of pain stabbed into the back of my head. A low grunt forced itself through clenched teeth as I released the object, and the headache passed.

“More of those froodlicker trees?” I asked around panting breaths. 

“frόdhleikr hljόdh, and yes.” Mima waved me to lay back down, and it was with great consternation that I did so. It wasn’t more than a few seconds before I was attempting to leap back to my hooves, as Mima said,  “Beyond your injuries, your friends can not be saved. They are dead or gone.”

“They are not dead! I refuse to believe that,” I snapped, attempting to advance a step towards Mima, and almost falling on my face as I teetered.

Her smile grew at my conviction. She pondered my demands for a moment more, then stood and made her way towards the blocked cave.

“Very well. You are no prisoner, and we will not keep you here if this is your wish.” She indicated the logs, “You are free to return to Gamla Uppsala and look for your friends.”

“Good,” I growled. 

The first thing I retrieved was Llallawynn, the sword’s weight a comfort as I picked it up with my hooves.  

As I gathered my things, Mima talked.

“There is great potential within you, Velvet Sparkle. Had the Ravens known who they were training, they may have let the Eagles cast you into the forest where you would have surely died… Or become one of the greatest evils to cross the disc.”  

“Uh huh,” I muttered, only half listening as I pulled on my cloak, a pang of regret twisting my insides to see it so torn and fighting to prevent my hooves from shaking.

“When—”

“I don’t care,” I said, interrupting Mima with a snort. “I don’t care about prophecy, or the Dark runes echoing in my head, or anything except healing my daughter.”

“Very well,” Mima stood, her tone clipped. “I will send Juniper tomorrow with more food, just as I did for the ancient one.”

Tightening the final buckle on my bags, I grunted. “Do what you want. I wont be here tomorrow.”

I was only partially correct.

After Mima left, I allowed myself to collapse, my legs trembling as I laid on my side, eyes scrunched shut. In a daze, not tired, my mind sharp and awake with a vital urge to find my family, I finally sorted through the runes cursed upon me by Algol. They danced and spun the day away, spiraling and combining into spells as naturally as the shifting of Selene’s light. 

Each new spell came with it knowledge of its inner workings; curses and summons, evocations and blessings, jinxes and shields, and more beyond. All formed from the dark runes.

Then, something I should have anticipated happened, they began to combine with the runes learned from my Equestrian and Halla mentors. Harmonic runes melded with those of Chaos, connected by a Dark bridge. Unlike so many of the other spells that filled my head, threatening to build beyond my capacity to make sense of one from the next, this spell held my interest, for it was a spell of rejuvenation and capable of restoring strength and vitality in only a few moments. But the cost was to steal it from another, leaving them weak and tired. 

Utterly useless on two fronts—I was alone, and I would never harm another to save myself. I began to put the spell aside and focus on regaining my strength the natural way when the sapling from before poked her head out of a nearby shrub. For a moment I wondered if I’d passed through the night in the intoxicating haze of awakening magic. A quick glance towards Sol hovering out to the west told me that it was the afternoon, and not early morning.

“So, you’re a halla?” Juniper asked, bouncing free of the shrub with a simple jump. She circled around me like a bird would a sleeping bear. 

Losing sight of her as she went behind me, I grumbled and huffed. “I am a pony, and a Halla.”

“Oh.” Juniper was silent for a few moments, making me lift my head to see what she was doing, and almost bumping muzzles with her. The sapling jumped back, prancing from side-to-side like a peacock. “Why do you have Gram?” she asked suddenly, pointed at Llallawynn. 

“Gram?” I repeated the name with a slight frown. Rolling onto my stomach, pine needles and leaves clinging to my side from where I’d been laying for so long, I nodded to my sword. “This is Llallawynn, a star-sword.”

Juniper considered the sword and I for some time.

“So… It’s not Gram?” She slid a few steps closer. 

I gave an uninterested shrug. “She could have had that name, once, but Llallawynn is what she calls herself.”

Giggling, Juniper laid down close enough that I could almost feel the warmth radiating from her. My mind flashed back to the rejuvenation spell, and the knowledge that my husband and friend were still missing in Gamla Uppsala. My eyes darted to the barricaded cave and then to Juniper. She was almost close enough for the spell to work. A few more hooflengths and the deed could be done.

A snicker broke me from my thoughts.

“Swords can’t talk. They aren’t spirits or beings, or even like some of the more intelligent monsters, like dragons. A sword is a sword.” A pause. “Isn’t it?”

“I think for most swords, yes, that is true. My old sword, trusty as it was, never said a word.” I patted Llallawynn’s scabbard. “But Llallawynn is a magic sword forged of star-metal, and with a star-spirit contained within. She’s special.”  

Again, Juniper considered what she’d heard, then nodded.

“That makes sense. Great beings deserve great weapons, and what could be greaterer than a magic sword.” Juniper scooted closer still, stretching to look over my back at Llallawynn. 

She was more than close enough now for the spell to succeed. It could be done before she could react, the Dark rune almost begging me to bind the Harmonic and Chaotic cousins to it. But I could not go through with the spell. Beyond all other thoughts, the idea of harming a foal of any race filled my mouth with bile and self-loathing for even considering the idea for a moment. 

A soft weight across my back alerted me that Juniper had moved even closer. 

“You’re soft,” Juniper mumbled, face burrowing into my side, “and warm.”

“I… suppose?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

Trying to find something else to say, or to ask the young dryad, I became aware that the forest had grown silent. At once all my senses started screaming, my eyes and ears darting from shadow to shadow in search of whatever had scared away the little critters. Juniper noticed the silence as well, her presence vanishing from my side as she jumped up.

“I better get home,” she said in a low whisper, frantic eyes leaping about. “Momma is—”

Her explanation was lost as the ground beneath her seemed to vanish, falling into a hole with a long scream. Stunned for a second before beginning to stand, I tried to move to the hole, only to have clawed hands break through the soft earth and grab me about the hooves and drag me down into the earth.  

 





A polite knock on the door and a cough heralded the arrival of lunch, Mr. Cane bearing it on his wing. He smiled and nodded to the princess and gave Tyr a good natured wink as he placed the platter on a table and began to set up a bed tray for Tyr.

“How goes the story, mu’um?” he asked as he set a bowl of soup onto the bed tray.

“It’s just getting interesting again,” Tyr wheezed, eyeing the bowl of soup with grave suspicion. It was a light yellow, with chunks of some white substance in it. “What’s this?”

“Egg-noodle soup with spiced crab,” Mr. Cane responded, smiling at the hungry glimmer that sparked in Tyr’s eyes.

“Crab? What is Mrs. Turnover thinking?” Velvet sighed, reaching for the soup.

“Probably that the diet of a filly alicorn is not so different from that of a filly pegasus, mu’um.” Mr. Cane gave a smirk at the surprise on Cadence and Velvet’s faces. Before the Princess and Baroness he placed trays holding simple sandwiches. 

Fishing the crab pieces out of the soup, while Tyr looked on with complete dejection, Velvet huffed, “Well, Twilight couldn’t eat pegasus fare, and she was fostered too. As Mrs. Turnover should remember from the halibut debacle during Limelight’s naming party.”

Chortling in a soft, easy way that couldn’t help but bring a smile to those nearby, Mr. Cane just shrugged his remaining wing. 

“I’m sure it just slipped her mind, mu’um. All of us downstairs just want the best for Lady Tyr.” He took the small plate of crab meat, Tyr eyeing it with a ferocious gleam, and placed it back on the platter. As he did he added, “His Highness and Lady Pennant have resolved to settle their differences this afternoon, mu’um.”

“He’s not going to duel his sister, is he?” Cadence exclaimed, thumping a hoof on the bedside. “The lummox.”

Giving Cadence a comforting smile, Velvet said, “I told you not to worry. Shining can deal with Pennant. Celestia knows he’s had to enough times over the years.” Stretching, Velvet moved towards the door. “I better make sure they don’t hurt each other. And have a word with Mrs. Turnover, quickly. We’ll pick the story back up later, love.”

“But—” Tyr started to protest, but was cut off by Cadence pushing her back into her pillows while hovering a spoonful of soup in front of her muzzle. 

“Lunch first, begging for more of Velvet’s story afterwards,” Cadence said around light tuts. 

“Beg? I wasn’t going to… Nevermind.” Crossing her hooves, Tyr nevertheless accepted the soup, cheeks glowing with embarrassment beneath her coat. “This never happened,” she shot to Mr. Cane between spoonfuls.

“Of course not, Lady Tyr.” He gave a polite nod to the princess and her foster daughter, then slipped from the room, a knowing grin stretching across his muzzle once the door had been shut. 

On his way downstairs, Mr. Cane passed Lady Pennant—she sporting a black eye—and Shining—him with a broken lip—being lectured by Velvet, their mother a stern figure as she dressed down her son and her daughter. Further along, Mr. Cane encountered Miss Darning sweeping up fragments of shattered pottery and straightening several portraits knocked around during the fight. None had been damaged, thankfully, and the pot could be replaced.

And the day was only half-over.    
> Part Seven
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	



Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Seven


The duel took place beneath an old oak tree a little ways from the manor. Planted shortly after the War of the Sun and Moon by Sunset Sparkle in honour of the family lost, it had always been a place of quiet comfort and reflection. A memorial stone, covered in the names of the Sparkles lost defending Equestria, stood next to the tree. The network of glyphs and runes etched upon its back by the matrons of old, and added to by their descendants, powered an ancient enchantment. 

Naturally, most were Harmonious and Bright runes. The precise function of the enchantment had been lost for centuries. The common theory was that it acted as an anchor for a Blessing designed to protect the manor, town, and surrounding fields. Velvet placed her hoof on the series of alterations she’d made shortly after returning from the Taiga. Using the runes she’d learned from the Halla and Algol, Velvet managed to intensify the field’s strength. Next to the memorial stone it was almost impossible to cause lasting harm to a Sparkle.

This made it the perfect spot for Shining and Pennant to duel.  

The pair in contention stood a few yards apart, speaking to their seconds. Cadence for Shining, while Two-Step gave advice to Pennant. 

Not that either particularly needed advice. Shining and Pennant knew the other’s style and methods almost by heart. They’d been trained by the same tutors until leaving home, then diverged along predictable paths. The styles and lessons of the Royal Guard and Navy were not exactly a secret. Neither was surprised when Shining selected a longsword, nor Pennant a sabre, both weapons dulled as an added precaution. 

“This is an honour duel,” Glitterdust said in a loud stage-voice, giving each combatant a piercing look until they nodded. “There is to be no biting, kicking, or spells higher than a class two. Anypony who thinks to continue after a point is scored, we will step in.”

There was little doubt who the ‘We’ included.

Keeping her spot behind Shining, Cadence gave Velvet a last, pleading look to intervene. A slight shake of her head was all the indication Velvet gave that she even noticed. Around her, the rest of the House gathered. Spike, no longer moping at being left behind by Twilight, sat between Elegant and Melody, the three quietly making bets. Adamant seemed mostly confused, leaning up against Limelight, she more interested in the birds singing in the tree than the duel. Star hadn’t come down from the manner. Between Velvet and Whisper, Tyr sat, wrapped in a thick, enchanted blanket, peering intently at her foster father.

“Get her, father,” Tyr’s shouted in a reedy croak, following it with the closest approximation to a whoop she could manage.   

Velvet pressed her lips into a thin line. She strongly disagreed with Cadence allowing Tyr to observe the duel. Bed rest was what she required, not sitting out in the mid-april breeze. But she was not Tyr’s mother, and as such, the decision was not hers to make. 

There was no further time to contemplate Tyr as the first ring and shout sounded the duel’s start. 

Ever the student of Lady Bright’s attack philosophy to never mind the maneuvers, Pennant rushed towards Shining. Velvet frowned at the sloppiness of Pennant's initial rush, Shining easily turning aside Pennant’s attack then slapping her across the flank with the flat of his blade.

“Point!” Glitterdust cried, hoof pointed to Shining.

Shining blew a kiss to Cadence, and a wink for Tyr, while Pennant scowled.

“This is going to be short,” Velvet remarked to Whisper, who gave a little nod.

The combatants returned to their starting positions, and at Glitterdust’s cry of ‘Commence’ both came out strong. 

A quick series of snapping thrusts from Pennant was followed by Shining turning her sabre wide. Velvet grimaced, anticipating Shining’s next move; a fast trot inside Pennant’s reach and then a stinging smack to Pennant’s shoulder. Yelping, her expression growing darker, Pennant retreated back to Two-Step.

The third bout was furious, and far longer. Shining abandoned his confident grin as he was forced to work at turning Pennant’s sword aside. Spells made their appearance in the form of shoves and counter-spells. Here, Velvet was almost impressed by Pennant, the young mare showing a previously hidden skill at brutal, efficient measures to knock and jostle. These were the tactics of a boarding party; no finesse, but carrying a strong, moral advantage that beared down on the enemy. 

Velvet sat up straighter, surprised as Pennant began to force Shining back in a slow, long circle. Shining wielded his sword with valiant determination, deflecting Pennant’s blade and magic.    

A heavy thrust brought about the duel’s end, Shining catching the sabre on his crosspiece, then bringing the pommel hard against his sister’s face. Pennant collapsed like a sack of flour at her brother’s hooves.

“That was… a good go, Pen,” Shining said as he regained his breath in the stunned silence. 

“Pennant,” several voices cried out together as the shock at the sudden end passed. Velvet, Whisper, and Glitterdust all rushed to Pennant, helping the stunned young mare into a sitting posture. 

Blood flowed freely down the side of her face from a long gash at the base of her mane. Velvet winced as she checked the wound and called for Two-Step to bring a bottle of Sparkle Ointment. The wound was not deep, thankfully, though it bled profusely, as head wounds were wont to do. Whisper covered her mouth and had to turn away, turning green under her already pale coat. 

Tutting while she and Glitterdust cleaned the cut, Velvet said, “Well, that could have been worse. You’re lucky. Dueling your brother like a mad minotaur, what were you thinking?”

Pennant was silent at first, her gaze fixed at the dirt between her herd-mothers. Shaking her head, Velvet pulled together a half-dozen runes to form a spell, one she hadn’t used in many years. Like all spells, the formation came back with little thought, stretching through Velvet’s horn and engulfing Pennant’s brow in a soft, flickering light. After a few moments the cut closed, a thin white scar in its place.

“How did—” Glitterdust began to ask. 

“What do you know about dueling?” Pennant huffed, wiping the blood from her eye and leaving a red smear down her muzzle.

Frowning, Shining took a step towards his sister. “Mother—”

“I do not need you to defend me, Shining,” Velvet held up a hoof to stay him. “I’ve been in many duels, Pennant, as you well know.”

Pennant hesitated, looking away. “I know…”

“Something else is wrong,” Velvet reasoned, receiving a stiff nod in return. “And I gather this has to do with Twilight?” Another nod.

“She isn’t our sister,” Pennant sighed, her defiant posture wilting. “I don’t… I don’t know what to…” 

Velvet moved around to Pennant’s side, sitting down next to her while Whisper watched, her mouth a pinched line, and uncertainty flitting behind her eyes. 

“She was the best of us, mother!” Pennant burst, waving a hoof in the direction of Canterlot. “She was the smartest, most powerful, and talented unicorn ever produced by not just House Sparkle, but perhaps ever. You said so yourself so many, many times.” Pausing to gather her thoughts, Pennant trembled against Velvet’s side. “I tried so hard to be like her, we all do, and you don’t see it. Even Melody and Elegant, and they were still little when Twilight moved to Canterlot. She… We just…”

“You’ve made a small error, dear. I never said Twilight was the most powerful unicorn. What I’ve always said is that she is the most powerful member of House Sparkle, and possibly the most powerful pony. Minor details, pedantic, even, but important ones.” Velvet patted Pennant’s withers. “And, don’t feel too bad. Shining’s ten years older, and far more experienced. You did good, Pennant, on that last go.”

“Thank you, mother,” came Pennant’s dull, mechanical response.

“Now, you want to hear about a real beating, than I need to tell you about my time with the Diamond Dogs…”     







Our chains rattled and clanked as Juniper and I were led deep below the surface. With hooves shackled together and blinders keeping our vision firmly ahead, the most we could do was shuffle through the rough hewn stone. Each of my hooves ached, but my right-fore was the worst, small cracks along the toe making me limp. My head was no better, still pounding from the lingering effects of magical exhaustion.  

I tried to fight, weary as I was, and for my effort they muzzled me and linked my hind legs so I could no longer kick. Blood ran down my nose from a gash on my brow, my eye stuck shut as the blood set. 

The dozen or so Diamond Dogs that had captured Juniper and I chuckled at our misfortune.

Ahead of me, Juniper whimpered and sobbed. Each time she grew too loud, the dog leading us would turn and cuff her across the muzzle. Across the dog’s back hung Llallawynn, the mystical blade’s pommel a blue so dark it was almost black. He’d tried to draw the blade after claiming it, but she refused to be removed from her scabbard. 

It was in this state of misery, with no hope of escape, that we were dragged into Gur Moloch. 

City of the northern dogs, Gur Moloch was built within a great chasm beneath Mount Moloch, a barren mountain deep within the Taiga. A thousand bridges crossed back and forth, high above a hissing black river carved through the earth. We were led along one of the narrow streets built into the chasm’s face, dogs staring at us the entire way from the bridges and balconies dotting the walls. Every now and then, a subsidiary chasm containing more of the city would branch off and disappear from sight. 

Some of these branches contained terraced farms. Others rumbled and roared with the glow and ringing rumble of furnaces and hammers.

Overhead, so far it seemed to be a pale echo of the true sky, glowing mosses and mushrooms lit the ceilings and walls in soft blues and greens. Most of the light came from oil fed lamps that filled the ceiling with smoke and the air with their pungent odor. Rare were the civilized glow-stones, placed only at key intersections and bridges.  

On and on it went, the city vast beyond many in Equestria. Rounding a bend, our destination came into sight. A giant, circular arena sat atop a spire at the chasm’s heart. Seven bridges, each larger than any I’d seen made by ponies, fed dogs to the arena. Red and gold banners fluttered in the slight but persistent wind that whistled through the city, though it was soon drowned out as a cheer rose from the arena’s crowd.

We were led across a service bridge and into the warrens beneath the arena.

The stench of untreated filth and blood struck my nose at once as a thick, iron grate clattered shut behind me, barring any retreat. A slap to my flank informed me to hurry along towards our destination. We were brought to a smallish room with a table covered in straps, buckles, and a myriad of tools stained red with dry blood. 

Nickering, I attempted to back away, only to fall, tripping over my chains and striking my flank hard on the stone floor. 

The dogs only laughed, kicking me in my ribs.

“What’s this, what’s this? More meat for the games? My oh my, ain’t you pups been a busy lot,” chortled a low, wheezing voice. “Well, let’s have a look at what we got.” Clawed paws pulled away my blinders, allowing me to stare up into a round, pittbull face of a squat bitch (and I want to remind you, it’s not swearing if I am talking about a dog, so stop your sniggering Melody).

Dragged to my hooves, I was poked and prodded, the bitch (Spike!) the bitch—           







“Really now?” Velvet put on a severe scowl, one directed at the writhing mass of giggling fillies, drake, and colt that spread out in front of her. Even Tyr was laughing, though her’s were of a wheezy, hiccupping nature.

Trying hard to keep a straight face, Glitterdust patted Velvet on the withers. “You could have chosen another descriptor, love.”

“But, she was a bitch!” Velvet protested, following up with, “Hush now!” as the giggling grew into a rolling set of guffaws. There was a whip-snap to her voice that commanded attention as she asked, “Do you want me to continue the story or not?”

At once the laughter vanished, and the foals and drake sat up perfectly straight and intoned, in the most solemn and differential of voices, “Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother. Please continue the story. We’ll be good, promise.”

“That’s better.” Velvet pointedly ignored Cadence as the princess rolled her eyes. “Right, so, the… Helen—that was her name—poked and prodded me…” 







“Fine stock. A little banged about, though. Did your lads do that to her?” She gave a piercing glare at the dog that had dragged me into the city.

He shook his shaggy head and, in a nasal tone, said, “Weren’t us, Matron. Were the Deadies, if me be right. Found her and the twig just outside the Deadies’ tunnels.”

“A fighter then? Could always use more fighters.” She clicked her tongue as she surveyed me again, and I stared back at her. “Yeah, yeah, she has the look. And it’s been a while since we saw a pony in the arena. Thirty sheks for the pony, and five for the scrawny twig.”

“Five?” the lumbering brute holding our leads grumbled. “You paid ten for the last twig we’s brought you.”

“Last twig you broughts weren’t some little pup that’ll get snapped in two its first go. I ain’t gots to take it. Don’t needs it neither. You could try the farmers or the miners. They might pay for a twig to pull a cart. Won’t get more from ‘em though.” 

The matron wiped away a line of snot dripping down her nose with her thumb, waiting while the other dog considered her offer. He looked Juniper over, the poor dear trembling hard and clutching my side. 

“Fine. But only cause I ain’t wanting to drag it back across the city.”

After our captor received his coins, Juniper and I began our new lives as slaves. 

The dogs, it turned out, were not as stupid as their rough dialect or watery eyes had led me to believe. The first thing they did was put a proper inhibitor band around my horn. One made of stout iron that cut into the surface, leaving shallow scratches, as it was fitted and tightened. Unlike the band of magic suppressing wood the dryads had used to help me recover, this band’s sole purpose was to prevent magic from flowing through my horn. 

Even the most basic telekinetics were beyond me so long as it remained.

We were taken to a series of cells deeper within the pitts, beaten and harried if we showed any sign of resistance… and sometimes just for fun.

I learned very quickly to bide my time and restrain my anger.   

Juniper and I were tossed into filth and left to wait. The cell was spacious, meant for as many as a dozen ponies with old, rusted ring bolts on the walls to hold a length of chain. Besides Juniper and I, there was only one other occupant in the cell.

Sombra—







“What did you just say?” Cadence yelled, her voice thundering across the grassy hills of Sparkle Dale. “How? Where did you hear that name?”

The princess towered over Velvet, wings fully extended to create a feathery barrier. A spell had already started to form on the tip of her horn, and her eyes darted to the shadows, as if expecting him to emerge at the mere mention of his name like a mythical demon from the shadows. 

Shining was the only pony not shocked at the force of the interruption. Crystal Guards at the base of the hill shot agitated glances towards the family, a couple tensing their necks. A wave from Shining and a slow, assuring shake of his head was enough to prevent the guards from marching up the hill. 

“Settle down, love,” Shining said with a few calming nickers. “He was some wizard that—”

“A wizard? He was… He… The things he did…” Cadence struggled for several more moments, her muzzle contorting as she tried to come up with an explanation without giving any long held family secrets away. Velvet withheld a private smile, knowing all too well the ancient crimes Sombra had committed. In the end, Cadence settled on, “He betrayed Celestia and Luna, Shining!” and began to pace while the Sparkles watched in mute concern. “And… And Nightmare Moon claimed he was my father, and—”

A sharp, dancing laugh from Velvet broke through Cadence’s agitation, the princess stopping to give her a sharp glare.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” Velvet quickly said, doing her best to stem her humour, “but, two points, if I may. First: Nightmare Moon is not exactly a reliable source. If it were Luna, it could have been another matter, if not for my second point. Sombra was a male kirin.”

Cadence blushed and settled her wings, head hanging in something near shame. 

Wearing a slight frown, Glitterdust said, “I don’t see what his race has to do with anything.”

Velvet let her smile grow as Whisper leaned towards Glitterdust, and whispered so that only they could hear, "Kirin colts were gelded."

“Oh…” Glitterdust muttered, blushing herself now. “Oh my, that would create a problem, wouldn’t it?”







Sombra lay in a corner, three inhibitors clasped to his horn. His cloak and armour were gone, showing a hide covered in a patchwork of scars. His was a back carrying a terrible weight, the bubbled scars of burns interlaced with puckered white lines. There were too many to make sense of them all, far more than could be acquired in one lifetime. Many should have been fatal.

He didn’t move or acknowledge Juniper and I for minutes, his eyes half-lidded, and his chest slow to rise and fall.

“So,” he finally said in his deep, hauty burr, “the fool yet lives.”

Sombra rolled his head to peer at me through the gloom and torchlight, a frown playing at his lips.

“You… You’ve changed.” He raised himself to a sitting position, all sense of boredom melting away. “The Darkness, it has stared into you and found you to its liking. How… appropriate.” 

Turning away from Sombra with a huff, I focused my attention to something more productive than listening to mad ramblings, like inspecting the bars for weaknesses. 

“One who would break Iridia from her just prison should be as bleak and broken as she, yes.” Chains rattled behind me as Sombra lowered his head once more to his crossed hooves. 

He returned to his silence, ignoring me for a length that I can not remember. It could have been minutes, or hours, or even days. I inspected the walls and bars I don’t know how many times, and the truth is the period in the cell has all blurred together now. 

It was far from silent in that moldy, squalid hole. Aside from Juniper, a constant source of chattering, there were the rings of distant smithy hammers, the guttural growls of the guards, and the humming clang of swords clashing in practice, all echoing down to the cell. The sapling was an endless font of curiosity and misery. She was either following in my shadow, or curled up in a corner sobbing. When the dogs brought us food, a plate of some milky mushroom slop, she refused to eat, and hid behind me. 

Eventually, embolden by our relative solitude, Juniper left my side and slide up to Sombra. His ear flicked towards her, a crimson eye cracking open when she shuffled closer.

“So, you are the ancient Old Mima was helping?” She craned up her neck, peering down on the crystal in his chest. “I was the one she had bringing you food, because I am the oldest of the saplings.” Juniper waited for a response, and when she received none, she resumed her chattering. “Does it hurt?”

“It does not.” Sombra’s eye cracked open again. “And no, it can not be removed. I… No, Moondream, I was not going to be mean to the sapling. It is merely following its nature.”

“What’s she like?” Juniper settled down next to Sombra, mimicking his posture and disinterested air. His constant shifting to talk to the voices in his head did not perturb Juniper in the least. “The Dreamer, I mean.”

“She prattles.” An amused huff was followed by a scowl. I watched with growing concern as the mad stallion lashed his tail from side to side, ears falling back as the scowl revealed his predatory fangs. “I told you already, I will not help her. She’s received enough aid from more reputable sources. Need I remind you what will happen if Spring’s Bane is awoken? … No. … I said no. … Repeating the—Fine!” 

There was magic in the exclamation, enough to make the cell rumble and scatter dust.      

“Moondream believes I should train you to control the Dark runes.”

“I already know how to control them,” I retorted with venom. “Love and other positive emotions, they act as shields against their predations.” 

“They can, and certainly are useful. But, what if you didn’t have to pay the price at all?” A wicked, frightful glint sparked deep within his eye, one that promised suffering. “The Bright Runes of the Archons require faith. An Alicorn Harmonious Rune is selective in nature, while the Quus’ Chaotic Runes are wild and unpredictable in many regards. Dark Runes, forged by the Demonic Kings and Queens, why, they have their prices; but nothing states whom must pay the price.”

“I won’t force that burden on another.” I turned away, my muzzle crinkling in abject disgust. “I managed them before, I can do so again.”

“Very well, I’ve offered. When you’re ready to learn, I will be here.” He slid his eyes shut and returned to his reverie. 

Scooting to me, Juniper held her head low. “Don’t listen to him. Old Mima said that Dark runes were a curse sent to the unicorns by the demons.” 

“I can believe it.” My hooves played with the damp straw covering the floor. “They keep whispering to me.”







Velvet paused in her tale, the next words catching in her throat as her memories of those dark days clashed with the expectant, young faces beaming up at her.

“What happened next, mother?” Elegant scootched a little closer. “How did you get out of the Diamond Dog’s prison?”

“I bet she tricked the guards, like Daring Do while searching for the Golden Shawl of Eternia.” Melody gave a sage nod, hoof on her chin. “Lured them close, and then, bam! Blasted them.”

“I—”

“No, it’s going to be more like in the Lady of Rings, when Barrow and the Thirteen Ponies snuck out of the Unicorn Queen’s castle inside cheese crates.” This came from Spike, a triumphant claw pointed upwards.

“Actually—”

“Please, that’s so silly.” Adamant rolled his eyes and jumped between Melody and Spike to gain their attention. “I’m eight, and I know how silly that sounds. No, it will be like—”

“Sit down, Adamant,” Melody and Spike barked at the same time, the pair giving the colt a withering glare.

A cough from Whisper brought the brewing argument to a screeching halt. The quartet snapped to attention, forming a neat line with wide, innocent grins. It always amazed Velvet how the young so effortlessly projected cuteness. 

“We’re sorry,” they intoned together, following the apology with a hung-dog expression meant to ensure sympathy. “Please, Mother, could you continue the story?”

“No.” Velvet shook her head and pointed at a group of local pegasi who’d started forming a spring shower. “We need to head inside.”

Into the manor they went, though not without additional pleas for more of the story. Little good it did them, as Glitterdust whisked them away with a promise of iced lemonade and hay fries covered in gravy and soft cheese. Cadence and Shining took Tyr back to her room, Velvet and Pennant following.

Once Tyr was settled, and the door closed, Velvet cast a spell to seal them within, and keep curious foals at bay. What was about to come, Velvet didn’t want the youngsters to hear.

Cadence, inspecting the spellwork, remarked, “What runes did you just use?”

“I…” Velvet’s voice drifted as she realised that she’d incorporated a Dark rune. She shook her head. A foolish mistake. She’d been falling too deep into old memories and terrible habits were surfacing. Even worse, she’d bent the runes in ways that left a sick pitt in her stomach. “Iridia, I am becoming such an old mare.”

Stripping the ward, Velvet formed a less effective spell, but one that wouldn’t hurt any curious foals or passers-by.

Pushing past the mistake, one she wouldn’t repeat, Velvet turned to Tyr. “Love, before I resume, I am going to warn you the next part gets a bit… violent.”

“‘Violent’? Ha-ha!” Tyr beat her hooves against her covers. “I doubt you’ll be able to disturb me.”

Shining frowned, while Cadence looked saddened, recalling her tail of ponies hanged by their own entrails until the brink of death, and then healed so the process could be repeated each dawn for the remainder of the thief’s natural life. 

“Very well.” Velvet bowed her head. 

“So, the day of what was to be my first fight arrived…”







We were taken from the pitt, Juniper and I, and up to one of the higher levels where they prepared the lesser slaves: those intended to die. Our owner was waiting, the pitbull sitting beside a door to a small room. 

“That’ll be enough,” she said to the guards, waving them away. “I’s got it from here.” 

The guards said little, and departed with a kick to my flank as they turned. Growling at the guards backs, the pitbull waved Juniper and I into the room. 

Inside, we found a fresh meal laid out on a table waiting for us with a bath in a corner behind a privacy screen. Otherwise the room was barren. 

Pointing at the table, the pitbull told us to sit and eat. 

“Well, here we are, at last.” She gave me a big grin. “The start of the games. You lucky, pony. You’ll be in the first match of the season. Very big honour, very big. Eat, eat, you will want to be strong, ha-ha!” 

The dog clapped her paws with a giddy laugh like a gurgling drain. In a flash, I spun and cocked my hind legs to kick. The moment my weight started to pivot back, hooves shooting out like steam powered pistons, I was dropped to the floor by a weight on my horn.

“Oo-hoo! I’s right. You’s got spirit. A fighter’s in you, little unicorn.” Her paws clapped with greater zeal. 

Breath hissing through clenched teeth, I reached up to the inhibitor on my horn: the source of my pain. Glyphs glowing, it used my own magic to keep me pinned, like a walrus had decided to lay on my back. The inhibitor would not allow me to harm the bitch. 

She withdrew a control rod from her grungy clothes, a set of robes that once would have been rather expensive and ornate, but were now covered in old stains of grease and dirt, with thin, faded colours. A wave of the rod removed the hex keeping me pinned. 

“You not going to try any silliness again, are you, unicorn?” 

“No,” I lied as I pushed myself up, attempting to appear chastised. 

“Good!” Using the control rod as if it were a baton, she directed me to a spot at the table. “While you eat, I speak. Ha-ha! I… nevermind, not funny.” She coughed into a paw, then sat down across from us. 

Between us sat a couple plates, one with various over boiled vegetables and roots, the other with a roast chicken. Tearing off a leg, the bitch took a big bite, tendrils of greasy meat dangling from the corners of her mouth and dribbling onto the front of her robes. My stomach twisted into a ball, my gorge rising at the slurping and crunching. Juniper had turned an even darker shade of green with a reddish tinge around her eyes as she fought to control herself. 

“So, unicorn, this how it is. You are the property of me, Helen.” She hooked a thumb at herself. “Your purpose is to fight, and not die.” Helen tossed the bone aside and grabbed the next piece of chicken. “There will be four other groups in this match. The halla won’t give you much trouble, so long as you give them a wide berth. The gladiators will concentrate on them. Kill if can, but stay alive more important. You live, you get easier games.”    

I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from snapping. As Helen kept repeating, my goal was to survive. The inhibitor would make that all but impossible, however.

“How your magic?” Helen gave me a stern glare over the thigh she was gnawing upon. 

“Oh… Just… um… I know a little magic. Some spells, to help if your… uh… in trouble.” I twisted my face up and looked away, attempting to make it seem like I was lying about knowing more, rather than less. Reaching up, I tapped the inhibitor. “I can’t do anything with this… thing, th—”

“No!” Helen smacked her paw on the table with a moist splat. “Arena sacred. No magic. Unicorn risky enough without magic.”

“Look at me, look at us,” I gestured frantically between me and Juniper. “Do I look like I can use real, proper, honest-to-goodness spells?”

Helen considered me some more with those cold, beady eyes.

“What you do if I turn off inhibitor?” 

“Well,” I licked my lips to settle my jittering nerves, sensing I was so close to my goal. “I know how to use a sword…”

“Sword? With hooves? Ha-ha!” Helen’s eyes crinkled up as she was overcome by mirth, her jowls shaking as she laughed. “Use sword with magic? Not so sure…”

I pressed my own hooves on the table, and leaned towards her a little, putting a pleading knot in my voice, making my eyes as big as possible. “You said there are going to be halla, surely they use their magic, right?” Helen stopped laughing. “Or not… but I can’t do anything without my aura. Just… if you turn the inhibitor off I’ll at least have a chance. And, you want me to survive, right? You said so just a minute ago.”

Helen was silent for a long while, running her thumb over the control rod. 

“You are right, pony.” With a grunt, Helen stood and trundled off to a back room. When she came back, she held a long dress-like suit of armour. “Here, put on. Look fierce.”

Rather than argue, pointless as it would have been, I grabbed the armour, and with Juniper’s assistance, shucked it on.

It was not armour, as I first thought, but robes. Black, with hundreds of little triangular pieces of metal sewn throughout that shimmered when I moved. They draped down my flanks and legs, strategic cuts allowing for freedom of movement, and alluring flashes of my off-white coat beneath. A high collar of raven feathers pushed up my mane, Juniper using a stick to pin it in a tight bun. Silver shoes, covered in glyphs and brass reliefs of twin-headed birds, adorned my hooves. 

Helen smiled wider still, spreading her arms wide, and cried, “Yes, so fierce! You go and not die. Make proud, and lots of honour for us both. Yes, yes.”   

We were shortly thereafter ushered from the smallish room and out into a staging area. Hundreds of diamond dogs rushed about in the final stages of preparing for the ‘games’. 

“Just, stay near me, Juniper.” 

She squeaked in response, pressing herself deeper against my side. 

Through the groups of dogs, I spotted the halla Helen had mentioned. For a moment my hopes buoyed, then crashed down as I noticed none of them had a lode-mark, and they all held the hollow, pathetic eyes of those who were broken inside. 

Juniper and I would receive no help from those poor creatures. 

I had only formulated the understanding when we were herded towards a grate. Gears clattered, the ante-chamber filled with a loud rumble as the grate lifted and we entered a long, dark passageway. 

Blinking and bleary eyed, we stumbled out of the passage and into the arena proper. My ears pressed back as the roar of sixty thousand Diamond Dogs greeted me, the stands jammed until they almost overflowed. Boxes sat at the lowest ring, a scant few lengths above the walls, from which the wealthy and important could watch, with each tier progressively more cramped, and comprised of poorer and poorer citizens. 

Other groups of gladiators were filing into the arena. Some Diamond Dogs in loincloths with tridents and nets, their right arms sheathed in glittering bronze mail. Others wore heavy plate hauberks covered in symbols and swirling designs with tower shields and short spears, their helmets covered with blinders so they could only see in a narrow field. Lightly armoured strikers, a sickle in one paw and a bearded axe in the other, with pelts wrapped around their lower legs and arms, howled and slobbered, their muzzles covered in a thick froth and their eyes rolling with madness. 

Each team wore differing colours; Gold, Red, Green, and White for us slaves. White to show our blood better when it was spilled. 

The ragged group of halla gathered in the middle. 

A deep, resonating chant filled the arena, drowning out all other sounds. “Maamut, Maamut, Maamut!”

In her box with the other slave owners, sat Helen, the dog carrying a forced smile. She held the control rod up, giving the device a little waggle, followed by pointing it to the Green team and hooking a thumb across her throat. The inhibitor gave a little click, and feeling returned to my horn.

A double blast of horns silenced the crowd. Nearly as one, those not already standing rose from their bare stone seats to face the largest and most ornate box. Turning my head, I beheld a dog entering the autumn of his life. He was the King of the Diamond dogs; a once proud and tall brute, with muscles starting to sag beneath a still lustrous black coat. Possessing the long snout of a Doberman and a crown glittering with a hundred gems perched between his torn ears, the king was a figure of aged strength. 

But, more so than the king, my attention was arrested by the figure at his side.

Sylph sat with her lute in her hooves, a collar around her neck and its lead attached to the king’s belt. Our eyes locked, and she mouthed the words, ‘live for her.’ 

The Diamond Dog gladiators lifted their weapons to their king, and in a single, booming voice, shouted a terrible oath.

“For you we shed our blood, and theirs!”

With a nod from the king, the horns sounded again, and the slaughter began.

“Defensive formation!” The order came from an older, ragged buck, the halla leaping at once to the command. 

As though fighting wolves, they formed a tight ring, antlers lowered and hooves scuffing at the dirt. Shoulder to shoulder, the halla were a deadly wall. Any dog that drew too near risked being speared or trampled.

The dogs were not so foolish. Using their spears and nets, they struck from a distance or dragged out their quarry. Screams quickly filled the arena, and were silenced. 

It was vicious, brutal, and terrifying, the sand under hoof stained red from so much carnage. 

Not that I had time to observe the halla.

Juniper and I had been left outside the ring, our purpose to serve as momentary distractions before dying. 

“Juniper, whatever you do, do not leave my side,” I hissed through my teeth as the first dog approached, a trident in his fist. 

A deep breath, and I filled my heart with the songs Sylph used to play, and the smiles they brought to the herd. 

Roaring, the dog raised his trident, then thrust it at my neck. It stopped, the tip whispering against the hairs of my coat. The crowd above us howled and barked in surprise, a surprise echoed on the gladiator’s face as the butt of his trident propelled itself into his ribs. 

Staggered, but far from out of the fight, the dog began to circle, net twirling above his head. 

He tossed it at Juniper, intent on dragging the sapling from my side. Perhaps he hoped I would rush to her defence, and he would have been able to impale me then. Perhaps he just wanted a quick, easy kill to his name. I do not know or care.

It hardly mattered as I struck the net aside with a simple blast of magic, and followed up with a summon. 

At my side appeared the first thing that came to my mind: a Frost Wolf. 

For so long they had been the things of my waking nightmares, the howls of the pack that had taken my parents ever echoing in the back of my thoughts. With the Diamond Dogs, the wolves were all I could imagine for a summon. 

An alpha female, white as snow with a rolling crest of dark grey fur over her withers and shoulders, she towered over the startled gladiator, her breath misting his armour, leaving a patch of rime behind. 

He lunged. The Frost Wolf leapt aside. Opened her mouth and breathed forth a wave of cold so absolute the dog was frozen as solid as a statue in a moment.             

“Protect the Halla,” I commanded when she turned her gaze to me.

The arena was not fully aware yet of what had transpired. Most of the action with the halla had sifted, a dozen bodies already strewn across the sand. 

Baring her fangs, the Frost Wolf sprinted towards the confused mass of death. The crowd gave a shocked exclamation as she bit down on the neck of one dog and hurled him towards the upper stands. 

Gladiators and halla alike shied away from the snarling beast in their midst. A few hurled nets, only for my wolf to slip through them like fog. 

It took the crowd a second to process the change, and then they were howling and stamping their feet in a greater zeal. I had never witnessed such madness, and never wish to see it again. 

Once more, the dogs proved to be no fools, a half dozen peeling from the confused center to charge me.

“Velvet…” Juniper pressed herself beneath me, clamping her hooves over her eyes. 

Ravens burst from the tip of my horn, an unkindness of cawing, snapping, clawing ebon winged constructs that trailed curtains of billowing smoke. They swarmed over the dogs, attacking exposed eyes and ears, gouging out chunks of flesh with their sharp beaks. 

I smiled, glancing up to Helen’s box, where my ‘owner’ sat, her mouth hanging open, and her tiny, black eyes very frightened as they darted from me to the King. He scowled, leaning over to whisper something to one of his entourage. Beside him, Sylph kept her face neutral.  

Applying a spell to my voice, I gave a shout that deafened the crowd.

“You wished for entertainment and blood?” The Dark runes swam faster in my mind, tugging my lips into a vicious grin. “Then you shall have it.”

A quick check of my magical reserves showed I’d only started to tap the depths of my power. I flexed my neck as I prepared my next set of spells, forming them in conjunction. In my haste, I failed to prepare the mental shields to fend off the runes hunger, my magic taking on a dark shell, black atop of blue. 

Rap-tap-tap, went my spells, crystal spears manifesting overhead to strike at the encroaching dogs, while a shimmering dome protected me from the attempts at retaliation. 

Moments blurred together as I cast my spells. I felt so alive, my skin tingling with the echoes of casting spells I’d never dreamed possible a month ago. Aether arced from my horn to the arena walls and lifted me up. 

I laughed, cried, and maimed.

And then I came crashing down, all my magic at once cut off and my head exploding with a blinding, red agony. 

Gasps choking from my throat, I was aware of Juniper above me, her face hollow and streaked with tears, little hooves rocking me. She called my name over and over. Behind her I saw the surviving Halla watching with mingled fear and awe. Not a single gladiator remained standing. 

Dogs armed with crossbows and billhooks rushed into the arena floor and herded the Halla away while a ring formed around me, weapons pointed at my heart. A gap broke in their ranks to allow a hulking brute of a dog through. 

Decked in gold and plum, it was the crown prince, a retinue of his personal guards flanking him. His armour was molded into the shape of muscles, not that it was needed with his powerful frame. 

“Stop, please stop.” Juniper crawled to the prince’s feet. “She did what you wanted and fought.”

Placing a kick to the side of Juniper’s head, he ignored her pleas.

“Who owns these… things?” He glared at me, grabbing my horn and hauling me up until my hooves dangled. “Who is the cur that put a wizard in the Games?”

“T-That would be I, y-your most magnificent and wise Prince Selim, Son of Selim.” Helen slinked out of an entrance. She had her paws spread wide, her head held low, and her robes knotted and bunched around her knees as she tried to both walk and prostrate herself. 

Dropping me back to the sand, where I gasped and fought off the lingering pain of the fizzled spells, Prince Selim marched up to Helen. 

“A wizard. You put a wizard into the games. Sullied this arena with magic tainted blood.” He drew his short sword, laying the edge on the back of Helen’s quivering neck. “Have you anything to say before I pass your judgement?”

“I did not know, oh most benevolent and just prince!” Helen pointed at me, exclaiming, “Bought it from tunnel sniffers. Demanded all the proper questions. Have to be careful with unicorns, I know this, of course. They lied. They lied! Told me she cast only weak stunning spell, and bit and kick. She young one still, so I believed them. Ponies spend years becoming wizards. How was I to know?”

The prince’s face grew harder and harder as Helen spoke. He cut off her explanations with a bark. “You are a fool,” he spat. “Allowing a unicorn free range of her magic. No doubt you will claim some falsehood or spell at play. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Your licenses are revoked and you are to be banished from the pitts.”

“No! Please, have mercy.”

Chuckling, the prince sheathed his sword.

“This is me showing kindness.”

“W-what of my property?” Helen cast a concerned look at me and Juniper. 

Prince Selim followed her gaze and sneered. 

“The wizard will be executed in a proper and fitting manner, of course. As for the dryad…” He went to Juniper. 

She looked up at him with puffy eyes, sand staining her tear streaked face. “Please, just let us go, please.”

Putting his foot to her throat, he said nothing. He just strangled her, watching with a dispassionate, neutral expression as she gasped and beat her small hooves against his leg. My own screams went unheard, the prince’s guards holding me down. As the backlash passed, and my strength returned, a blow to the back of my head dropped me to the sand.

All I could do was watch as Juniper was murdered. 

Her hooves stopped scraping along Selim’s leg. She ceased her choked begging. 

Juniper was so scared.

A last, pathetic whimper and she was in Elysium.

“Dispose of this thing,” Prince Selim pushed Juniper’s body away. “And take the wizard back to the pitts. You may be as rough as you like, just leave her alive. Her death will be done properly, as ordained by Maamut.”            

> Part Eight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Eight


I was tossed back into that hole a hollow, empty, broken pony. 

Numb.

So numb.

The beating the dogs administered was hardly felt. Not when they cracked my ribs. Not when they broke my legs. And not when they left me there, sprawled across the moldy straw and dirt so far from Sol’s comforting light. 

All I could see were Juniper’s final moments, flashing over and over behind my swollen eyes. 

The pleading, those terrible, echoing, pleas were the worst, dragging like claws across my bare soul. 

They repeated endlessly, until something cracked inside of me. It’s an odd feeling, to know the moment you change, to look back on the instant before and be able to say, ‘I am not that pony anymore. She is dead, and the pony in her place is something else.’

For me, when I woke up, sputtering and coughing blood, the realization was just how naive and deluded I had been. I’d been a fool, over-confident, and proud. So proud. The pony that pulled herself up on weak, aching hooves, barely managing to lean against the corner where stone met iron bars, was not a good pony, nor was she a good Halla.

Waiting for me was Sombra, eager to prey on my weakness and doubt.  

“So… The sapling is dead.” He sat in his corner, face as hard as my heart. “And you have gone far down a terrible path.” 

“You said there was a way to make others pay the cost of the Dark runes.” My teeth ground together until my jaw ached. “Show me.”

Sombra neither smiled nor frowned. He just gave a slight inclination of his head.  

“No.” Sauntering across the cell he came to me and brushed back my mane. “You are not ready to use them. They leave a hole when so recklessly used, as you did in that arena.”

I tried to stand, tottering on my hooves in the process, a snarled response at the ready, but was overcome by a wave of dizziness. “How… How could you possibly—”

“There is no need for such hostility, little pony. Especially in your condition.” Sombra was by me at once and steadied me before I could fall. “I will heal you, and give you a long-overdue lecture.”

“Don’t need your advice,” I slurred, crumpling against his chest, face bumping against crystal.   

A chuckle from Sombra made my head throb and spin faster.

“Well, you will get my sage advice regardless.” He helped me lay down, taking care as he brushed back my mane. “The Dark Runes deal in trades. While the most common is a bit of your essence for their power, there are many others they will gladly accept.” His hoof trailed down my bruised and swollen face, taking in the curve of my jaw and snaked behind my neck. “Like zebran merchants, they are conniving, but will accept any deal. By sacrificing their speed, you can force them into more beneficial arrangements.” Leaning in, he placed his lips on mine, mouth parting ever so slightly as—







On the far side of the door, with ears pressed to the varnished wood, sat the remainder of the young Sparkles. In ones and twos, they’d slipped away from Glitterdust and snuck off to hear more of their mother’s story. Even Two-Step was present, standing above his younger siblings with a broken air of reserved disapproval for the benefit of any pony who came across the group. 

It was a wasted effort. Two-Step was not the most talented pony at hiding his guilt for snooping. The slight glow of magic around his horn and ears didn’t help. 

Fortunately, it was not one of the servants, nor the Crystal Guards that came across the young lords and ladies, but their remaining sister.

Star Sparkle, on her way back from the library with a stack of books that would have made Twilight proud, stood at the landing to the floor, peering at her brothers and sisters with mingled confusion and exasperation. 

“What are you doing?” She demanded in a nasal, imperious squeak, her voice cracking a little. “Mother would not—”

“Mother is telling Shiny and Pen off for duelling, and our niece a story.” This came from Limelight, her eyes scrunched up as she tried to listen.

“Niece?” A low snort was followed by the clomp of Star dropping her books in a neat stack at her side. “Tyr is not part of our herd. She…” Biting her tongue to avoid saying her feelings, Star half turned away. When none of her sisters or brother paid her little outburst any attention, she slid a few steps closer. “So… this story… what’s it about?”

The response was slow, and, when it came, it carried an off-hoof dismissal. “Oh, about mother’s missing years. Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

“No, I’m interested!” Star protested, pushing up against Melody to get at the door. When she did, Star noticed that the voices beyond were strangely warbling and indecipherable. Raising a brow, she looked the door over, twice, before declaring, “She’s warded it.”

“Well, duh!” Elegant rolled her eyes while Melody mimicked Star in a drawn out, cruel sneer. 

A harsh hiss from Two-Step was followed by, “Hush, you three, I’m trying to decipher what’s going on.”

“It’s a wasted effort, Twoey.” Limelight threw up her hooves, almost unseating Spike in the process. Twisting his claws in her mane to keep from being unseated, he gave a sharp oath that was ignored by his adoptive siblings. 

A grin began to form on Star’s face, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Let me look.” 

Star gave her hooves a greedy rub as her siblings at last cleared a small space.

Before anything else, Star cast a spell to see the traces of magic making up the ward. What appeared almost made her collect her books and leave. A simple question kept Star planted in front of the door; what would Twilight do?

Twilight loved a challenge, especially one involving magic. She’d never turn away from testing her abilities.

The lines were all soft and rounded, forming interlacing circles. At the heart of each circle sat a rune, many overlapping so that it was difficult to tell where one began and another ended, or just which runes had been used. At least those along the outer edges were clear. Star’s instincts told her they formed the ‘cap’ to the glyph. She wasn’t certain, however, the way they were bonded to those overlapping in the centre gave her pause. 

Star had been aware that Velvet was a powerful caster, but the intricacy of the glyph before her shone a new light on just how much skill the matron truly possessed. Half the professors at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns wouldn’t have been able to put together such a glyph. There was a brief moment where Star wondered if even Archmage Star Shimmer would know how to counter the ward’s effects.

Shaking her head to dislodge the doubt, Star repeated what the Archmage and Celestia herself often said; every spell had a counter.

“Well?” Melody pressed. “Can you dispel it?”

“I… don’t think so,” Star gulped after the admission. “But I may be able to create a hole for Two-Step to listen through.”  
  
With a steadying breath and encouraging nods from her siblings, Star reached out with her magic. 

She had to be careful. The layers of protection and defence against tampering were daunting, feeding into each other over and over. If the ward had been created by any other, Star would have stopped, but there was one fact as great as the glyphs complexity that she could not overlook: Velvet Sparkle would never, ever, put a spell in the manor that could harm her family. 

Closing one eye in anticipation of her magic being rebounded, Star made a tiny, minute adjustment to Ber, a rune often used in silencing spells. She hoped it was the rune preventing Velvet’s story from leaving the room. It had many other uses, such as support, protection, and creation, making it useful in both the base and core of a spell. Star prayed her intuition was correct, and that Velvet was using it as a core.

The glyph glowed hot at her touch, and for a heartbeat, Star thought she’d erred. Then it settled. There was no cataclysmic backlash or sundering, the door had not burst into flames, nor Star’s horn cracked by a sudden jolt.

A relieved breath whooshed from Star as she turned to her siblings, chest puffed out and head held at a sharp inclination.

“See, told you I could…”

Her voice trailed off as the door was yanked open, a visibly upset Velvet towering on the other side.

At once, blame began to fly about like a flock of geese trapped in a pillow factory. It was their fault. All Star’s idea. Pushed us aside. We tried to stop her, mama. And many other excuses and justifications emerged, none of which saw a response. 

Face as wild as a thunderstorm, Velvet inspected the glyph, all the excuses ignored.

“You did this, Star?” The cold fury in Velvet’s voice pressed down even Limelight and Two-Step, both nominally adults. 

“Y-Yes, mother,” Star’s knees knocked together as she took a half-step forward, head bowed in submission to the inevitable punishment. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Velvet turned the word over as if it were some new and intriguing concept, one never before uttered by ponykind. “Whatever for, darling? This is brilliant. But you should have attacked Pol instead.” 

Velvet pointed to one of the outer runes. 

“Pol? I’d never seen it before, and didn’t know what would happen.”

“Prudent,” Velvet nodded. “You have to be very careful, after all, when dealing with strange and new magic…” Velvet’s voice trailed off, a distance falling over her features as she became lost in memory. Shaking it off, she again pointed to Pol. “If you’d applied pressure right here, and twisted like so…”

Star watched in awe as Velvet applied a sharp jab to Pol and rotated the rune counter-clockwise. At once the entire glyph sprung into action, livid aether streaming through the bound lines. Rune after rune began to convulse and pop, creating a ripple of small bursts until the entire glyph was consumed and all that remained were a few freckled motes that marked where the runes had been.

“The professors said—”

“I know what they would have taught you, Star.” Velvet indicated with a wave of her hoof for the small herd of young Sparkles to follow her into the room.   
  
Inside they found everything much as expected, with Shining and Pennant sitting across from each other, the withering gaze occasionally passing from one to the other. Tyr had her head pressed up against Cadence’s side, eyes fluttering as she attempted to hold back falling asleep. 

Cushions and chairs were taken one by one as the young Sparkles spread out around the room. Melody and Elegant, as the youngest fillies present, naturally claimed either side of Velvet, while Star elected to sit primly next to Whisper. 

After filling them in on the important events of her story, Velvet took a deep breath.

“Some wounds, the worst wounds, you can’t see them.” Velvet worked her jaw, gaze fixed out the window and on the memorial stone. “They change us. Make us… they… Where the story goes next, children, I hope you will not think less of me for what I did, for, you see,” Velvet turned just enough that the young Sparkles could see lingering regrets shifting like storm blown sands behind her eyes, “I was not a good pony.” 







Sombra’s method of teaching was unconventional to say the least. 

The kiss he gave me was merely part of a spell, one where he took upon himself all the accumulated injuries and pains of my body. As a kirin he was far sturdier than any pony, his draconian heritage laughing at the comparatively pitiful wounds I’d sustained. 

Steadying himself, he leaned against the bars as he took a slow, fortifying breath. I could see the strain in his eyes caused by his spell, his movements precise and cautious. 

“Are you well?” He asked, the question turning into a pained hiss. 

I nodded slowly, too shocked by the speed of the healing to form a proper response. I had seen, and even learned a few healing spells from my time among the Wolves. Fawns are as prone to hurting themselves doing silly things as any other child, and knowledge of restorative magic is common among the Halla. But nothing they practiced could completely remove all signs of injury, especially those as severe as I’d suffered, more so in with such speed. 

“Good.” He coughed, spitting away some blood that came to his mouth. “Then let us begin our lessons.” Sombra began to pace, watching me with a cold, discerning eye. “I will teach as the Landcasters of old once did, by showing you. Do as I do. Weave as I weave. If you truly have some talent at magic, perhaps you will not end up some soulless husk bent on ruination. Understand?”

Before I could so much as shake my head, Sombra continued.

“By not being constrained to the limits of my body. I have… I’m getting to it, Moondream. Of course I know she… The inhibitor isn’t an… Would you let me...” Sombra’s muzzle crinkled with disdain, his head rolling up so he could peer at some point far overhead. “Very well, Moondream.”

“You’re insane,” I stated, backing away from Sombra. 

He merely shrugged. “You hardly need tell me that.” Pointing once more at the bars, he resumed his explanation. “Moondream reminds me, though I hardly needed it, that as a neophyte in the arts you can not overcome your inhibitor without assistance. If you wish to escape this place, you will need to learn how to overcome such a limitation.”   

I felt a smile, dark and gleeful, take shape.

“You will need a secondary focus. Something that is of you, and is not. It can be a spirit, like with the zebran shamans, or some object, as I have done. For you a spirit will be easier.”

“A spirit?” I crinkled my nose in distaste. 

During my lessons among the Ravens, and from Father before that, I’d heard of the shamans, and their connections to the spirits, and how through them they could work their magic. I’d also been taught it was a form of magic beneath a unicorn, or halla. We didn’t need to make deals or form bonds with spirits to perform our wondrous feats.

Not noticing my disgust, or not caring, Sombra continued, pacing along the bars. “Yes, a spirit. Hemmravn, Ursta, or a Vetfrir all make sense, given your connections to the Raven, Bear, and Wolf lodges. You could also call an imp, though bargains with the demons never go well. Trust me on this. I have a great deal of experience dealing with the demonic ladies and lords.”

“Demons? Really?” Incredulity laced my voice, my eyes rolling. 

A flicker of amusement answered my doubt. “What of Algol, the Demon Star? And what of the runes you so recklessly use?” 

“Algol was no demon. Though she certainly looked and smelled like one.” I huffed and sat back to cross my hooves. Like Shining, in my naivete I exclaimed, “Demons are just stories.”

“Leviathan, Hetatin, Witiko, Moloch, Tirak, Amon, and Crechus; they are not just names in the holy books. They exist, out there somewhere in the realms, plotting, waiting, hoping some foolish little colt or filly will attempt to summon them and they can began their vile trades once again. I have faced such monsters before, be thankful that you will not.” Sombra’s face flushed with a sharp fury, then, as quickly as it came, he calmed. “Their offers are far more tempting by design than those of the Archons. Even those of the Dominion’s choirs, ruled by She Who Destroys With Righteous Fire, are paltry in comparison.

“Which is why you need to learn to control the Dark Runes.”     

I was silent for some time, mulling the names he’d given over. Little tremors worked their way along my spine as I contemplated them, one by one, and what little I could remember from my Solday lessons as a little filly. Filing the names away, I found myself focusing on what he’d said just after bringing up the spirits. 

“Did you say it can be an object?” I had to work to keep my grin from growing, so as not to tempt fate. 

“I did, but the process—”

“What if I am already bonded to an object? A sword, to be precise.”

Sombra tilted his head, stopping his pacing. His answer, when it came, was slow and considered. 

“If you were bonded to a sword, all you would need do is concentrate on it and call to it.” Sombra was about to add more, but snapped his mouth shut with a grunt, his ear flicking as Moondream spoke to him. 

I didn’t pay attention as he started to argue with the voice in his head, more concerned with what he’d just told me. Clamping my eyes shut, I did as he’d instructed, and though I won't say it was instantaneous, nor that I didn’t grow frustrated when she failed to appear the first while, after some practice and advice from Sombra, I discovered the connection between me and Llallawynn.

That pulsing thread of magic, seeming so thin and insignificant when surrounded by a sea of runes, it sang such a sweet tune when I caressed it, like a goldfinch in spring. Grabbing it, I tried to pull, but the thread refused me.

“The bond is not some rope that can be tugged,” Sombra admonished, rising over me. “But an instrument to be played. Magic is math and art in tandem and motion, like music. Form the equation in your heart and let it resonate across the disc in sweet melodies, or ferocious thunder. With the right tune, she’ll hear it and come.” 

I almost asked what tune to use, but clamped my muzzle shut fearing further rebuffing. The answer would be simple, otherwise he’d have told me. 

So I did the most logical thing, and began to repeat the song emitted by the thread, using runes as the notes without channeling magic. The song shifted, a query flowing along the thread, hesitant at first, then bold and happy. I answered at once, a little flair of my own added into the reply. A surge made the song rise into a grand, rapturous finale. 

Llallawynn leapt eagerly to my summon, landing with blade sinking into the straw and stone before me, a wave of jubilation washing over me like a tide as the song drifted away.







“I can imagine,” Cadence said, a wistful smile touching her lips, like she were thinking back on her first kiss. “The first time Penumbra answered my call… It was like nothing else.” She giggled, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Celestia sneaks down to the armoury once a month to talk to Coronal Edge. First Solday each month, without fail. And Luna, she has old Tamashi above her mantle. Every Monday she goes to Moonstone Castle to spar with the recruits for the Royal Guard.”

“She does?” The question came from several places, loudest from Shining, his brow lifted up into his cobalt mane. In a lower grumble, once his surprise had faded, Shining added, “I should have been told. There were no reports…”

“Darling, you’re pouting.” Cadence flicked out a wing to give Shining a playful thump across his withers. “Besides, Luna and Tamashi enjoy sparing. They are more than weapons, they are companions, with… not exactly souls, per se, by will and hopes of their own. Our weapons, though I hate referring to Penumbra as such, are more like spirits.” 

Brushing off Cadence’s wing, Shining’s pout only grew deeper. He ignored the rest of the Sparkles as if they were only a painting of his family, one verging on a fit of giggles or rolled eyes. Shining crossed his hooves and huffed. 

“Not that you ever take care of Penumbra.”

His words had an immediate effect, Cadence snapping her head back and wings out. Lips pressed into a stern line and eyes narrowed, Cadence gave no immediate reply. Velvet winced in sympathy for her son, but not too much. She’d have chewed a pony’s head off for making a similar remark about Lllallawynn.  

Velvet’s hoof twitched, a deep ache pinching her heart as she thought of Llallawynn so far away. 
 
“You said Llallawynn is a star-blade? Forged from the heart of a fallen star? Or did I mix that up with some other story…” Melody tapped her chin, then shook her head as she dismissed the idea. 

Into the gap, Elegant asked, “Can you still feel her? Llallawynn, I mean.”

“Sometimes.” The twitch moved to Velvet’s face. “She’s connected to me and all of my bloodline. Shining should hear her.” 

All eyes turned to Shining, who sat defiant against the scrutiny. 

Crinkling his muzzle as his little sisters began to giggle, Shining darted a look to Velvet. She had a mischievous lilt to her voice as she said, “A pegasus, deary. Strong and beautiful in that pre-classical, shield-maiden way, and wearing barding.”

He scrunched his brow further together, then his eyes widened, and he gasped. “Oh… Oh!”
        
“Love, there isn’t something you want to tell me, is there?” Cadence gave Shining a knowing leer, a mischievous sparkle seeming to make her glow.

“I… uhm.”

Playful tone growing, Velvet leaned a little closer to her son, and in a loud whisper asked, “So, you have seen her, then?”

The way his youngest sisters leaned closer, the mirth forming in the corner of Limelight’s mouth, and the way Pennant smirked all told Shining that there was no escape. Then there were his mothers and Cadence, all four looking like hawks about to swoop down on a field mouse. 

He let out a short grunt of defeat.

“Thirteenth and… Eighteenth dreams, I think?” Shining rubbed his chin as he squinted his eyes and tried to remember. “I’d have to check my dream journal to know for sure. She was kind of cute, I guess.”  

“Really? ‘Kind of cute’?” There was an odd note to Cadence’s voice that made Velvet sit up straighter. If Velvet hadn’t known better, she’d have thought there was a hint of jealousy in the princess’ tone. “Well, she is bound to Sparkles, so it makes sense.”

“Awww, why haven’t we ever seen this star-sword-spirit-mare?” Melody and Elegant bemoaned together.

“Because she’s bound to the Sparkle bloodline, dummies.” This came from Tyr, cracking a sleep encrusted, red rimmed eye open to peer at her ‘aunts’. “And you are no more Sparkles than I am Invictus.”

Puffing up their faces, the twins cried out, “We too are Sparkles!”  

“In name only.” 

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Fillies, settle down.” Velvet, Whisper, Cadence, and Shining all snapped at the same time. While Cadence admonished Tyr, Velvet and Whisper dealt with the twins. Stern looks of disappointment and anger were leveled, the fillies all made to mutter half-hearted apologies. To prevent a renewal of arguing, Velvet returned to the story.







Even with Llallawynn returned, I still could not muster my magic. Not to form a spell, nor to even lift Llallawynn. So I resorted to drawing her with my mouth, holding her hilt firmly between my teeth, tongue playing along the aged leather.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Sombra grumbled as he took Llallawynn and helped me strap her across my back, using a rolled up scrap of rag as a temporary sheath.  “Now, do you know any of these spells?”

He listed such things as changing one’s shape to turning invisible; none of which I knew. He moved on to glamours and sleeping spells, some of which I did know, but he dismissed as impractical for our purposes.

“Then why bring them up?” I demanded, stomping a hoof. 

He showed off his long fangs, a laugh rumbling deep in his chest. “Because, I was curious. We’d long since left behind the useful for a stealthy escape.” Raising a hoof, he declared, “Besides, it doesn’t matter, as I was waiting for…” He lifted an ear, clicking his tongue like a clock. “Her.”

I almost jumped out of my skin as a door banged open near the end of the passageway. Cautious hooves echoed along the walls, a voice calling out, “Velvet? Sombra? Please tell me you’re in this one.”

“Sylph?” I gaped like a fish, pressing my face to the bars to get a look towards the exit, spotting a cloaked figure moving slowly towards us.

Relief flashed across Sylphs face when she heard my voice and spotted me, hurrying past the empty cells to reach mine. Keys rattled, drifting from beneath Sylph’s cloak to the lock. 

“I don’t understand,” I hissed, watching the way Sylph had come for any guards. “How did you get down here?”

“Diamond Dogs are… well, easily manipulated,” Sylph put on a cheeky grin, one that turned sour as she tried the last key, and it failed to release the lock. “Blast it,” she cursed, thrusting the keys back beneath her cloak, and extracting a collection of picks and burglers tools. 

“They just let you wander down here?” My mouth hung open, an incredulous snap making my voice seem far too loud.

Twisting and jiggling the lockpicks, Sylph stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth. 

“Well, some. Those who are low ranks. Boast I am the king’s bard, show off the mark he gave me,” at this point Sylph twisted her head to show a fresh brand on her ear, the fur burnt away and puckered scar tissue forming.

My hooves flew up to my mouth to hold back a strangled gasp. 

Sylph winced, trying to hold the ear very still so as to not disturb the burn. 

“What of Growler? Where is he?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “We were separated during the collapse. Growler, he has the shears, though, so I imagine he’s making his way to meet with the Triplets.” 

Suspicions swirled, fueled by the hitch in her voice at his name. Images of what could have happened flashed through my mind. He could have been crushed, or killed by the draugen, or by the dogs. The mere idea of the dogs having taken my Growler from me as well sent a surge of hot, bubbling anger through my chest.

“Did you bring the crystal?” This came from Sombra, joining me at the door to our cell. 

Not looking up at Sombra as she snapped one of her picks, Sylph said in a low huff, “No, the king gave it to Prince Selim. A gift for ‘taking care of the Sorceress’.”

Sombra was quiet as he mulled over the answer. His tail snapped with irritation a couple times as the minutes ticked past until Sylph gave a triumphant squeak. The lock snapped open with a harsh click. We all held our breaths as we pulled the gate open, the hinges squealing in protest. 

No guards appeared.

“We must retrieve the crystal,” Sombra declared as we began to leave the cell and tip-hoofed towards the exit. “Moondream’s lust has already begun to stir. If it gains a hoofhold in a city such as this... ” He didn’t elaborate on what would happen, letting the silence carry the weight of dread. 

Aware that the stone held a power, though still ignorant of the nature of the power, I nodded agreement. “We need to find the prince.”

“Are you two mad?” Sylph snapped, pressing herself against the wall by the cellblock exit. She peaked around the corner with a mirror before stepping out. “We’ll be lucky to make it out of here alive, let alone enter the palace, reach the prince’s chambers, and retrieve some stone.”     

“It is not just a stone,” Sombra replied, trotting unconcerned down the passage, “but a receptacle for all the hunger and drive for power once flowing through a goddess-filly. She will whisper in the Prince’s ear such sweet promises. Glories that should be his, all the north, nay, the disc his to conquer. What he did in the arena, he will do to entire cities.”

Her face falling, Sylph looked away. 

“That… was terrible, what Prince Selim did to the dryad. But, you can’t retrieve the stone if you’re dead. We need to get out of here. Once they realise I’ve left the palace…”

Shoving open the next door, one that opened into a large staging area, Sombra just smirked.

“We shall create a diversion, naturally.” He stopped a few lengths too late as another door to the room opened. A pair of guards, either on patrol or heading to their post, stepped into the room, talking in their peculiar halting dialect. 

For an interminable second we stood staring at each other. Letting out a howl, one dog charged while the other turned, bolting towards an alarm gong. 

“Stop him,” Sombra ordered as he met the first dog’s charge. 

Sylph and I moved at the same instant. While I was still hampered by my inhibitor, Sylph had not such limitation. Her daggers, these same ones I wear right now, darted out from her cloak, giving chase to the second dog. Halla do not have the range nor strength of a unicorn with their telekinesis, but it was hardly required as she threw the daggers. The first one clattered off the stone beside the dog, making him jump to the left and into the second dagger’s path. It caught him in the small of the back, sinking deep between a fold in his armour. Driven to his knees, the dog released a howl as I slammed into him.

We tumbled, kicking and clawing, coming to a sharp halt as we crashed into the warning gong. Unaware of it teetering above us, I pressed my hooves down on the dog’s throat. Had I a dragon’s claws or a dog’s paws I would have savoured the press of his fur and the desperate tremors as he struggled for breath. 

A blow to my gut sent my breath out of me. Another sent me rolling, my back striking the gong’s base. He never saw it coming. The wet crunch rang in my ears far louder than the clang of brass on stone. Breath regained in short gasps, I struggled out from beneath the heavy legs of the gong’s stand. A glance showed me that the heavy disc of metal had come down across the dog’s belly, crushing his lower half. 

He was in shock, eyes rolling, a howl lodged deep in his throat, unsure whether it should be a strangled mewl or a reverberating shriek. It never had a chance to be released as I returned my hooves to his neck. Though I knew he was dead regardless, I had to be the one to press the life out of him. I needed to see the last light fade in those terrified, pleading, brown eyes. And when it had, when he’d grown entirely still, I continued to strangle him.

Not until a shadow fell over me did I stop.

“Velvet,” Sylph whispered my name. There was fear and sadness in her eyes, her hoof hesitant as it reached to touch my withers. “We need to keep moving. Someone must have heard that racket.”

Deep, rattling breaths rocked my body as I nodded in numb agreement. 

Sombra had dispatched his opponent with far greater ease, a half-charred leg sticking out from behind a support column was all I could see of the other dog. Glowing embers rested in Sombra’s beard, a sadness in his eye as he made the Sol weave with a hoof.

“Forgive me, Faust, for I have broken a strand of your weave,” he said in a grave voice, bowing his head before checking the body for anything of use.  
 
To say I was shocked to hear the Prayer of Absolution would be gross understatement. More so was the sincerity in his words. There was none of his arrogance or pride, just a sullen acceptance and regret.

The creak of unoiled hinges brought us all back to the reality of our situation. 

Spinning, we faced a door along the wall opposite from where we’d entered. 

Head held low, a cautious hunch to her shoulders, Helen tip-hoofed through the door, a sack over her shoulder. She’d gone no more than two steps when she spotted the guard I’d killed, her small eyes flicking up to me. With a clatter the bag fell, a few personal effects rolling out of the open top. Helen scrambled away from us, pressing her back to the wall.

“Escaped? But, how?” She choked out, raising an arm as a shield. 

In a flash Sylph and I were over her. While Sylph pressed one of her dagger’s to Helen’s neck, I demanded, “The control rod, do you still have it?”

Helen’s eyes went wider still, darting for just a moment to a pouch at her side. Needing no further explanation, I tore it open with my teeth spilling its contents across the floor. Among the coins and bits of jerky fell the control rod. 

“You will remove my inhibitor, now.”

Paws shaking, Helen’s voice quivered as she asked, “If done, you let me live, yes? Let good, old Helen live?”

Working my jaw to keep from yelling, and further risk alerting any other guards, I gave a short nod.

The surge of freedom as the rings clattered to the ground at the behest of Helen’s trembling paws is not a feeling I will ever forget. Nor will the sick pit in my stomach when I think back to what I did next. 

The way Llallawynn slid free of her sheath. 

The way Llallawynn reverberated as she came down on Helen’s right wrist.

The piercing howl that poured from Helen’s throat, alerting the arena if it hadn’t been already.

They haunt me now, but I didn’t care then, returning Llallawynn to her sheath with a clack and marching across the room. Sombra was quiet, while Sylph was green beneath her coat. 

Those moments are so fresh in my memory, even after all these years, while the next hours are a blurry hazy. I recall fighting our way through the arena, releasing the imprisoned halla and exiting into the city proper in flashes. Moments seared into my eyes that refused to leave me for years.

My first destination was the deep cages and cells underneath the arena, filled with hundreds of halla. Between them and I, a dozen or so guards waited, reacting to the deep booms of alarms that rumbled through the stone. No blade forged by dogs could hope to match Llallawynn, and they fell like stalks of wheat to the farmer’s scythe. Fueled by my hatred, I knew neither fatigue nor mercy.  

“Why,” the aged halla that had previously spurned me asked when I opened his cage, a score of dead guards forming a trail at my back. “We left you to die in the arena, why help us?”

“Because, I am Velvet Sparkle of Bear Lodge, and we protect the herds,” was my instant reply as I moved to the next cell.

“A Bear?” The question was repeated over and over, jumping from one voice to the next in a ripple, the idea a stone in the halla’s pond. “The pony is Halla? And a Bear?”

They began to smile and trill, issuing their own war calls as they plucked the dead clean of anything usable, breaking into the armouries and taking weapons and barding. A few halla approached me as I stood watch near the broad stairs. They all stopped a respectful few lengths from me, bow their head and mutter the words, ‘Orka ok vegr’, ‘Strength and honour’. A phrase often said in prayer by Bears before battle.

Among the halla were a dozen or so fawns, ranging from a few years to the cusp of adulthood in age. They were straggly, bedraggled things, gazing up at Sombra, Sylph and I in wonder. Some tried to approach me, but turned back when they caught sight of the look on my face and the set of my jaw. All of them kept close to an adult, seeking protection and guidance. 

I noted with a sickening dread that none of the halla belonged to a lodge. There were not even any Owls or Badgers among their number, and certainly no Eagles to lead the herd. What fate had befallen them I did not want to know, though I had a guess that only fueled the seething in my heart. 

Lifting Llallawynn above my head, I pointed up the stairs to where the yipping voices and guttural growls of the dogs could be heard approaching. Issuing a throaty roar, I lead the charge striking down any dog that came across my path.

The dogs were not unprepared, but against our wrath and magic, they were quickly forced back. Sombra and Sylph at my sides, we formed the spear’s point, and thrust deep through the city’s heart. Gutters frothed red, spilling into the rushing river so far below. 

As we fought, I began to count, shouting out, ‘One, Two, Three!’ as we worked our trade. A few of the halla joined me, their deeper voices mingling with my sharper cries. Sylph, merciful Faust, did not. She fell back, moving along the outer edge of the herd, directing and protecting them as best she could, her daggers orbiting her like the sun and moon, darting out when needed.  

Beneath the starlike moss, twinkling so blue, we shed enough blood to make the stones weep.

But, for me, it could not have ever been enough. 

I had to make the dogs suffer.

I just didn’t know how. 

After all, no single unicorn, no matter how powerful or fueled by rage, could strike down a city of a hundred thousand. It would take an army to purge Gur Moloch. 

So, we kept running and fighting.

Underhoof the road rumbled from the force of the great orihalcum doors being pulled by weights of giant stone. We fought on.as the hundred hoof tall monoliths slammed shut, barring our escpe. 

There was no time to despair, as Sylph jumped to the herd’s head and shouted, “This way, this way! There is another exit. Follow me!”

Bolts fired from crossbows clattered and skipped around our hooves. While a few halla were lost, many more were spared by Sombra.

The stallion was everything the ancient stories describe of the wizards of old; all contained fire, with a terrible passion that was frightening to behold in its unfurled glory. He showed me through deed what he meant when he said to make others pay the Dark Runes’ price. Such hexes he weaved! Yet, he never killed even as Sylph and I sent scores to Tartarus. Sombra pierced the dog’s hearts with fear to drive them back. He lead them astray with illusions or hid us in a flowing shroud of smoke. Every move was precise, even when he resorted to his draconian heritage and breathed columns of pyroclastic ash, he avoided killing.  

His spellwork faster than the snap of a whip, Sombra must have saved every halla at least thrice before we reached a small, service tunnel.

Diamond Dogs closed in from all directions, their drums like thunder in the dark and their slavering yips at our tails. Only a few halla could squirm through the narrow tunnel at a time. 

So, I stood, chest heaving, blind in one eye from my mane, matted with sweat and worse, staring down the stretch of road we’d just traveled, a road that bore testament to how low I’d fallen. With reckless abandon, I turned to the Dark Runes, the simplicity of their use overpowering what little good judgement remained.

“You play a dangerous game,” Sombra said from behind me. He’d taken position atop a short set of steps from which he could cast his spells, protecting not only the halla, but Sylph and I as well. His breaths were shallow and eyes sparkled as if he’d just stepped into a parlour to have tea, not spent an hour or more constantly casting spells. 

My hackles rising, I countered with a snap. “I am well aware of what I am doing. I’ve seen how you make your spells work. That is what you wished me to learn, is it not?” Following my harsh bark with a spell, I smiled in satisfaction as the dogs fell back several yards to avoid my magic. Those that did not twitched and writhed in the gutters or in piles along the narrow lane.

Shaking his head, Sombra gave a long, morose sigh. “This is not what I meant.” He gestured at the hordes of dogs. They were growing ever more organised, their once frantic defense turning into a flowing cohort, shields at the front with archers behind. “You were supposed to learn that the price, no matter who paid it, is too high. You were meant to learn moderation and skill. Instead you charge ahead and misuse magic. You are a fool, and will die as such if you do not learn to open your eyes and see the consequences that lay down that road.”

There was little time to argue, as at that moment the ranks of dogs parted and he emerged; Prince Selim.

The prince seemed to fill the road, both growing in size and not. Power, a dreadful, malicious hungry power, scratched along my senses as if sand were being poured over my face. From the way Sylph pressed her ears back and lowered her stance I could tell she felt the same effect.

Sombra jumped down from his perch, trotting slowly towards the prince. “Sylph, Velvet, you should both leave now.” 

Darting back from the encroaching dogs, Sylph rolled her head. “And let you throw all my hard work rescuing you away? Ha!”

“I am owed a debt of blood.” I added cantering up to Sombra’s side and throwing him a cock-sure grin. 

“Very well.” A low, resigned sigh hissed through Sombra’s teeth. “But, remember this; The prince is merely a vessel. It is Moondream’s Lust that we face. All the yearning and hunger of a goddess foal, bent and twisted by the centuries, nurtured by the whispers of the dead and Algol. The Demon Star’s foulest work laid bare.

“Do not touch the crystal. Moondream still slept when you uncovered her in the treasure rooms. With her awakened, she will attack you through your own magic at the barest touch. Trust me when I tell you, she will destroy you in an instant and leave only a hollowed vessel to pour her single desire into; her need for more power and to dominate. There is a reason I left the retrieval of her Lust for last, for it is far more dangerous than even her Pride and Envy.”  

There was no time for any reply as the horde of dogs drew back by some unspoken command, waiting for some sign from their prince. 

Suspended on a gold chain around his neck, the Lust Crystal spilled pinkish-blue aether like water from an overflowing cup down his chest.

Selim’s knuckles creeked on the shaft of his spear, the embossed shield on his left arm at the ready. 

No speeches were given by either side. None were needed. We threw themselves at the other with all the fury and power we could muster. 

Crossbows twanged from the rooftops, their bolts caught or deflected by counterspells as Sombra and I charged, side-by-side, blades at the ready. Infused with the partial power of a goddess, Selim met our charge with a confident grin. Llallawynn was driven aside, while Sombra’s deadly breath was deflected into a wall, bursting it into chunks of rock, each large enough to crush flat anything beneath them. 

Darting back, I dodged and parried, but Selim’s speed, strength, and skill were an easy match, heightened as he was by the Dreamer. 

Selim was a dervish, spinning and slashing, driving us to the city wall in a cold, erratic fury. 

“Haruck, hurack, clack, clack, clack,” Selim sung as he knocked Llallawynn high and drove a blade through one of Sombra’s shields, aether leaking from the crystal to coat his twin swords. “Hear my song and feel my sting. Blades glow red as I steal your wing.” 

Sombra’s eyes widened, his entire body growing rigid, mouthing forming a small ‘O’ of surprise. 

“Knock the sun from the sky, oh, pity, pity, hear her cry!” Selim continued, the aether from the crystal now coating his entire body, and voice raised in pitch. “Betrayal below, betrayal above. Turned against his one true Love.”

Carried by the force of conviction bolstered further still through the tides of ancient desire, Selim battered me aside. I heard, as if across a great gulf, Sylph calling my name before I smacked into a low, shattered wall. Slumped against the crimson stained stone, with lights bursting in my vision, I beheld Selim strike through all of Sombra’s defenses. 

Gone entirely was the prince’s husky voice, in its place the sharp, lyrical tone of a filly.

“Stabbed his friend in the eye. Told the filly a terrible lie.” Shrouded in a ghostly cloak, Selim towered over Sombra. 

The stallion stood taller, raising his head, and it was then I realised he’d been drawing Selim close. That Sombra had no intent to truly defend himself. He smiled and bared his throat.

“Come then, my little dreamer, let us finish what I began.”  

As the prince’s blades descended towards the crystal in Sombra’s chest, Sylph charged, small antlers held low. Too focused on Sombra, the possessed prince only just noticed her at the last instant. His sword swept low, a thin trail of crimson splattering in its wake, and then Sylph was upon him. Both went sprawling across the stone towards where I lay, Sylph deathly still and Selim shrieking in rage.

I seized my opportunity, diving towards the pair while Sombra rattled a warning, attempting to intercept me. Curling a leg around Selim’s neck, I latched onto his back as he stood, the prince more focused on Sombra than me. The cords to Llallawynn I plucked, calling her from wherever she’d fallen back to my side, ready to be thrust into the prince’s side. 

And then there was a flash of numbness, followed by a resounding bang and… I am not sure what happened next. There was a voice shrieking at me, I know that much, and then I was falling. I saw… somepony. Wynn? Algol? I can only remember a vague shape and wings. The precise details escape me.

All I do know is that one moment I was on Selim’s back, ready to plunge Llallawynn into his heart, and then I was sitting in the middle of the road, with the Lust Crystal hanging around my neck, the stone dull and lifeless. Selim sat, half-propped against an overturned cart, while Sombra stood several lengths away next to the escape tunnel as the last halla wriggled through. Sylph leaned against Sombra, the two holding back the rising tide of dogs as best they could.    

Slowly, I rose to my hooves and found Llallawynn. My legs wobbled like they were made of pudding as I pulled myself towards Selim.

“Murderer,” I breathed, my goal in sight at last, every once of my will used to drag me one stuttering step at a time.

“Stay back!” Selim barked. He attempted to stand, only to be pushed back down.     

What remained of my strength returned in a stuttered bursts, gathering itself as my blood rose.    

“You murdered her! A foal, with a mother who may never know what happened to her daughter. You cut away her future, a life of her own.” I seethed, and so too did my magic, my aura carrying a dark blue core cloaked in shadow.  

“Velvet, come on,” Sylph shouted from the tunnel’s mouth. “Leave him.”

But I couldn’t.

A spell jumped from the depths of my memory, one tied to Juniper. A dark, terrible spell, heightened by my loathing, even more vile than it had been before as it fed off the growing hole in my heart.  

My muzzle turned up in a grim smile.

"Please, Velvet." Sylph took a few hesitant steps towards me.

The prince scurried along the ground, pressing his back to the wall. He lifted a paw, stretching it out to me as if I were Sol’s salvation. “Mercy, great Sorceress, mercy,” he begged over and over, broken and defeated. 

I stared down at him, the prince’s large, terrified eyes connected with my own. Lowering my muzzle to his ear, I whispered, “I will show you the same mercy you showed her.”

And then I killed him. 
	
	

> Part Nine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	



Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Nine


Solsday morning burst bright and clear across eastern Equestria, a dawn that hummed with the promise of the growing spring and even more brilliant days ahead. 

As was tradition, House Sparkle was in a frantic flurry of activity. There were fillies to be dressed, a colt to be pulled out of bed and forced into his best Solsday clothes, and not nearly enough coffee to cope with the ordeal. Per the norm, a scrum broke out among the older children to see who could get one of the several bathrooms first and avoid having cold showers. Voices raw from shouting, Velvet and Glitterdust marshalled the fillies, scolded those who needed scolding, and in general restored a semblance of order. Cadence remained on the sidelines, watching the well-practiced proceedings. She’d given Tyr a tinciture of laudanum to ease the filly’s cough. To her satisfaction, Tyr was sleeping easier, though the fever had yet to break. 

Downstairs it was, if anything, even more hectic. 

The kitchen was already in full preparation for that evening’s meal; a fine leak and potato chowder in the early stages of creation while pies were slung into the ovens. They would be joined by puddings, gravies, roasted sprouts, and a particularly wonderful baked salmon for Cadence. 

Mrs. Hardtack surveyed her domain, and the bustling ponies, with reserved approval, a stern pinch at the corners of her muzzle. All the staff were aware that her shrewish eyes were everywhere that morning. Already Halfpint and Miss Darning had suffered the full effect of her cold, biting wrath after being caught moving a touch to slow to their duties.

All Mrs. Hardtack said, and indeed all she needed to say for the past few days, was, “Do you wish to end up like Selim?” 

The question was enough to make even the most slovenly member of the manor’s staff—the gardner, Mrs. Greenhoof—rush to their job.

None were too sure what, precisely, had happened to this Prince Selim. What they did know, carried by a frightened Miss Darning, was that Her Ladyship had killed him. Most had initially dismissed the idea as ludicrous. If not for Mr. Cane’s stoney silence, all the staff would have believed it to be nothing more than another fanciful spin to an already improbable tale.

But, there was something about the way Velvet admitted to the killing with such casual ease. Coupled with Mr. Cane’s earlier statements, a pall had descended on the manor,that put everypony on the edge of their hooves, afraid of stepping out of line and incurring Her Ladyship’s wrath.

Velvet was painfully aware of the shift in atmosphere after she’d concluded the previous portion of her story. 

Elegant and Melody were avoiding her. She hadn’t seen a trace of Adamant or Spike. Even the older Sparkles found excuses to leave the room when she appeared. Only Star seemed to not be avoiding her. Though, to be fair, it would have been hard to notice any change in her disposition with the way she emulated Whisper and Twilight, locking herself away with books and studying.  

At least Velvet didn’t feel abandoned by her wives and husband. Whisper was curious about the spells and Dark Runes, while Glitterdust took the story as just that, a story, and made no more meaning beyond a fanciful way to entertain Tyr. As for Comet, he read his papers, played his cards, and went for long walks through the Sparkle flower plantations; no change what-so-ever.

The tension did help propel the children into the coaches in record time, and a little past eight in the morning, they were on their way to Sparkledale’s temple to the Namegiver. As an older, wealthy village, Sparkledale’s temple was a moderate affair, constructed of thick stone worn smooth by the years. The roof, once thatched like the rest of the town, had been given in sequence a red tile roof, then one of tin, and now it sported blue shingles at Velvet’s recommendation. Inside, it was filled with the finest engravings and busts depicting portions of the Book of Names that the Sparkle’s ancestors had enjoyed or found of particular importance. 

Given House Sparkle’s history, and Sparkledale’s by extension, these carvings depicted passages themed around forgiveness and redemption. Velvet often found the temple to be at once a comfort and a burden. That Solsday was no different. 

Tended by the town’s priestess, Promise Tithe, the Solsday readings from the Book of Names were known for their dryness and length. Although the villagers were faithful to Faust and her herd, the number who went to the services with any regularity typically filled only one side of the temple. It was well known that only the Sparkles themselves attended every Solsday without fail, unless they were out of town.

That Solsday the entire town was in attendance, drawn by an unusual guest.

Velvet’s brow shot into her mane when she stepped into the temple and saw not only Promise Tithe waiting behind the lectern, but the Revered Speaker herself, Blessed Harmony, resplendent in her best white and ruddy robes. 

“What’s the Revered Speaker doing here?” Elegant hissed to Melody as the twins were guided by Glitterdust to their usual seats at the front. 

The temple was filled to bursting, with villagers standing around the edges or in the doorway. Foals and young fillies and colts sat propped up on their parent’s withers, chins resting between their ears to get a better view. A unicorn had cast a spell to carry the ritual’s words to those who couldn’t fit even in the doorway. 

Once the temple filled, Blessed stepped back and sat down on a low bench placed to one side of the chancel next to the choir. On her other side sat a statue of Faust beneath the large, rose glass window. A candle covered alter rested between the statues hooves. From this raised perch, the Revered Speaker had a view of the gathered ponies. She shot the fillies and colts little smiles, and then put on a face of grave attention when Promise Tithe cleared her throat to begin the rituals.

“Well, this is quite the gathering,” Promise said, smiling at all the assembled ponies. Her voice took on a far more officious, droning tone when she began to preach in earnest. 

Velvet didn’t pay much attention to the priestess, focusing instead on Blessed. She had little doubt that the nature of Blessed’s visit in some way involved House Sparkle. The Revered Speaker rarely left Canterlot.

Her suspicion was confirmed when, after the last hymns had been sung and the crowd started to disperse, Blessed made her way directly to the Sparkle herd. 

She nodded to each of the children in turn as they bowed and intoned together, “Good morning, Revered Speaker.”

“And a good morning to you, little ones,” Blessed said this with an extra bounce of happiness in her voice, directing her smile at Adamant. “I trust you’ve all been good for your mothers since I saw you at the Gala, yes?”

“Of course, ma’am,” they replied, though with some trifling hesitation.

“That’s good,” Blessed said with a firm nod. “I’m sorry, but your matron and I need to discuss some matters and—”

“It’s about Tyr, isn’t it?” The question came from Adamant, the small colt hanging his head a little. “Because Celestia took away her wings and—”

“Glitterdust, perhaps you should…” Velvet spoke over Adamant, shooting her wife a quick look. 

The children were corralled, Adamant heard to exclaim as they were herded along, “Did I do something wrong, mother? Why else would a priestess visit us than about—”

Velvet was thankful she couldn’t hear the rest, Adamant’s innocent question buried beneath a surge in the general hubbub and bustle of ponies shuffling out of the temple. 

Taking a side door through the High Priestess’ offices, Velvet and Blessed made their way out into the gardens that separated the temple from the town’s cemetery. Blessed wore a look of vague amusement, her gaze lingering on the distant mountain tops more than the path. 

“He’s going to be a hoofful and charmer with the mares,” Blessed noted when they were at last alone. With hardly a pause, she added, “What of Sateen? How is your sister holding up with the return of responsibility as the heir of House Sparkle?”

Velvet set her jaw and said in a reserved growl, “Why are you here, Blessed?”

Blessed raised a brow at the confrontational bite to Velvet’s words and the lack of custom courtesy. Unconcerned, Blessed continued to walk along the path with its many flowers. “I am here seeking pieces of Twilights writings.”

“You’re… what?” Velvet’s aggression melted into surprise. She stopped a few lengths behind Blessed, giving the Revered Speaker another appraising look. Velvet couldn’t detect any lies or falsehood in Blessed’s open, grinning face. That said little, as Blessed had earned a reputation for being able to withhold the truth with a talent comparable to Celestia. “You want my daughter’s writings?”

“Just for a short while. We’ve already collected her dissertations and scholastic papers, as well as copies of her so-called Friendship Reports. That was a stroke of genius on Celestia’s part. As I am sure you’ve figured out, the Sisterhood is preparing to write the Book of… Polaris? No, it seems unfair to name just one star. Book of Stars, then? Yes, that sounds about right.”

Catching up, Velvet gave her head a slow shake. “The Book of Stars. Do ponies really need another book? Look how the Book of Love turned out.”

“That,” Blessed let out a long series of snorting giggles, “was a foalish mistake brought on by a bit too much willful naivety and Cadence being a little too… foalish, I want to say, but that is not right. Perhaps we will create a new Book of Love, one without all the potions, curses, and troublesome parts. I shall bring it up at the next gathering of Speakers.”

They moved around to the shady side of the temple and sat down on a bench.

“We are also drawing up plans and looking for donations towards the construction of Notra-Dame de la Etoiles.”

It took Velvet a few seconds to piece together a translation. Her Prench was not as good as her Halla, after-all.

“‘Our Lady of Stars’? You’re building a cathedral for Twilight?” Velvet scrunched up her face as she held in a laugh. “I can tell you now that she won’t care.”

Blessed took no offense, only smiled. “No more than Celestia cares for her own. It is not for her, however, it is for her faithful. Academics, astrologers, astronomers, sages, sailors, and wizards; they will make up the bulk of her devotees.”

“Sailors?” Velvet repeated with unrestrained skepticism. 

“Because the stars are used to navigate,” Blessed responded with another of her snorting giggles. “And Twilight has a tendency to leave an impression on the ponies she encounters. I’d not be shocked if nearly all of the five hundred mares on that ship haven’t started shifting their prayers from the Namegiver to Twilight.”

Walking again, they spoke of little other than Twilight until they came to where the carriages had been left. Knowing well her role as Baroness, Velvet asked Blessed over for dinner. She cringed as she clambered into her carriage, already weary just thinking of the evening to come. 

Velvet received a pleasant surprise, as waiting in the carriage next to Comet was Two-Step, with Limelight sitting across. 

“So, how did it go with… her?” There was a long, drawn out twist at the corner of Comet’s muzzle as he fought back a sneer.

Velvet ignored Comet’s intense dislike of the Sisterhood. The precise details had never been disclosed, but Velvet had uncovered that he had spent time as a young colt under the care of an ex-sister who acted as a governess for House Armour. That the ex-sister had soured Comet’s faith was all that Velvet knew for certain. It was only through a begrudging sense of familial duty that he attended the Solsday services.

His sneer only grew when informed that the Revered Speaker had been invited to dinner, but before Velvet could share more, she found herself pressed for information of a different time.

“Mother,” Limelight took Velvet’s hoof in her own, and clenched it tight, “what happened after the city, Gul… Molgoth?”. 

Clearing his throat, Two-Step corrected Limelight in his quiet, sensible way. “Gur Moloch, Limey.”

 Limelight’s ear gave an impatient flick. “Yes, yes, what happened after escaping Gur Moloch?”

“I… I thought none of you were interested in the story anymore,” Velvet confessed.

Two-Step waved a dismissive hoof. “It was… disquieting, mother, how you told the story. I know you must be taking liberties with the narrative, as you’re not a bad pony. Or, if you were, you certainly aren’t now. The others know this, especially Shining and Pennant.” 

Limelight moved on. “Well, can we please have more of the story?”

“I’m curious as well, dear,” Comet added.

“I… very well. It will keep me from worrying about tonight,” Velvet said after a defeated sigh. “Cadence is going to… Nevermind. So…    

 




A little over one hundred of us pulled ourselves out of those fetid caves that spring eve, exhausted and bruised, but free. Sol warmed our faces. The wind caressed our filthy, wet coats. In our mouths, the crisp air was sweet and clear.

To the north, illuminated in the dying light, stood the jagged face of Sognamount, the great sentinel. Home to the Kotun herds, now the keepers of Ironbark Vale, it had long been a safe region. The Kotun herds were all old and strong, with many Bears among their number to tame the wilds. It was to this vale we marched, stopping only when the little ones grew too tired to continue, falling where they stood into deep, encompassing sleep. 

With only the few possessions we’d taken in our harried escape, there was no camp to set up nor take down. We travelled fast, the aches in our legs and backs spurring us as far away from that wretched patch of forest as we could manage. 

The trees seemed to loom over us, especially in the darker, untamed reaches near the mountain’s base. These were the woods of the Rocmoor Mountains, of which Sognamount was but the tallest. A continuation of our own Western Mountains, it was a rocky region of steep, misty valleys and cool lakes fed by criss-crossing streams from the mountain glaciers. The terrain was broken, with large, rain smoothed boulders abounding, and many little canyons and gullies.

Before her apprenticeship, the Rocmoors had been Sylph’s home, and, though it had been many years since she last wandered their tracts, she guided our motley herd ever closer to Sognamount’s base. 

Eyes followed us, wolves—both mundane and magical—slinking through the shadows at night, kept back only by the fires around which we slept. After the second night, they left, driven off by mournful howls lifting through the dew soaked leaves to the shrouded moon. They were not alone, and at the start of the second week we crossed a diamond dog trail, their armoured, heavy tread unmistakable. The dogs were heading south, and it had been only through them taking one canyon and us another that we had not encountered each other. 

“Come, we must take the wilder trails,” Sylph said as she turned us up the mountain. That night, as we sat on the edge of a short ridge, Sylph took me aside. “Between the legs of a one-winged owl, and across the jaws of a sleeping bear, lays the path to the Ironwood. If something should happen to me, you have to lead them to the vale, Velvet.” 

I let out a low snort and thumped Sylph on the withers. “You are my oldest and dearest friend, Sylph. I won’t let anything happen to you. This is your herd, not mine. They look to you, not me. If you don’t lead them, than no one will.”

“I do not know if I will see out the season, my friend.” Sylph trembled, and in the moonlight I could see her eyes misting over. But it was her shift to Equestrian that shocked me more. Her use of it during our escape should have surprised me, but I’d been wrapped up in myself at the time. In the days afterwards, it had further slipped from my thoughts as I was pre-occupied with scouting the paths and keeping the herd safe. As the Master Bear, the only Bear, their protection rested on my withers alone. “All this fighting and blood, all the lives taken… I wonder what good it is for… Will the Queen be the saviour of our people? Or are the Eagles right, and she can only bring lasting doom to the disc.”

Wrapping my tail around Sylph, I leaned my head against her withers. “That, I can not say. All I know is that the Queen is the only chance my daughter has at life.”

“We seek to wake a tyrant!” Sylph growled, upper lip pulled back to reveal her teeth. “In every story I’ve read or told, that would make us the villains. And what you did to Selim… The magic you now use so proudly… Vel, I begin to wonder if Sombra is right.”

I lifted my head a little, just enough so Sylph could see my face. Even a small, slight halla such as her was far larger than me.

“This is not one of your Breezy Tales, Sylphy. Life is not so simple. It can not be broken down into who is good, and who is evil.” I jumped to my hooves so I could step around and face her. She arched her head back from me, her hazelnut eyes wide with concern. “There is no one else but us to complete this task. I care not for prophecy, for Algol or Wynn thrusting their burden’s on me, or for that mad wizard’s ramblings. We will save River, and damn those who would stand in our path, be they halla, draugen, diamond dog, or even Celestia herself. I will give my daughter the chance of life.” 

I then put on my broadest grin. “Besides, dum-dum, the Queen already saved our foals once. I am certain she is not the monster painted by the Eagles. Let them huddle in fear. We are Halla; strong, proud, and brave.”  

A thin, wavering smile spread across Sylph’s face and she wiped her tears away. She leaned down to press her head against mine and kiss me below the ear. “When they write our legend, I hope they remember why we do what we do.”

I returned the kiss. “I have no doubt that you will sing our ballads in the Foxes’ Amber Hall.”

Sylph merely gave a shallow sniffle followed by a shake of her head. She then reached out and touched the dead stone hanging around my neck.

“This looks better on you.” Sylph pulled back her hoof as I craned my head down to peer at the stone. As she trotted back to the others, she said over her withers, “Selim didn’t deserve her.” 

The next day, we passed between a pair of entwined trees, their trunks knotted together in such a way as to appear to be an owl’s head, with a low branch like a skeletal wing. On the next, our path crossed a glacier filled canyon, the ice cracking and growling beneath our hooves. A pair of Rocs passed overhead on the third, the colossal birds on the wing to their northern nesting grounds. Their golden eyes shimmered down on us, exposed on the mountain’s slopes and weapons at the ready in case the birds swooped down to snatch one of our number for a meal. They did not, and we breathed easier once they’d flown onward. 

The ruddy red lords of the sky had only just vanished into a bank of wild clouds when the din of approaching hooves caught our attention. From a hidden cut in the mountain emerged a war-party of Bears, bronze hued armour flashing in Sol’s light, and the deadly metal prongs on their antlers glinting. Banners of blue and gold, a great cedar imposed upon the shape of Sognamount’s northern face, snapped at the war-party’s sides. 

Without a command, the column broke in two and encircled our weary, ragged herd. Behind their helmets, the war-party’s eyes were hard and their jaws set for battle. As they surrounded us, we drew together, younglings in the middle and antlers outward, pillaged weapons at the ready. The war-party’s master stepped forth, easily recognizable by the flowing green cape and extra embellishments to his armour.

“What a sorry, disagreeable lot I see encroaching on Ironbark Vale’s reaches,” the Master said as he broke into a toothy grin. “Who speaks for you lot? Who is your Eagle?”

There were a few muttered words passed through our herd, and then Sylph stepped forward.

“I guide the survivors of Gur Moloch.” Sylph stood as tall as she could, and still she barely came to the Master’s chin.

“You?” The Master spat and he stamped a hoof. “How can you be the lot’s Eagle? You are a Fox, and my baby sister!” His aggression melted like snow in spring, replaced by a warm, booming laugh as he scooped Sylph up and swung her around. “I thought never to see you again, little one. What ever are you doing this far north, and in such ragged company as this? Was your herd taken by raiders as well?”

“Put me down, Holm!”

Master Holm gave another of his deep laughs, this time joined by his war-party as they stamped their hooves and threw back their heads. “Put you down? Have I even picked you up yet? You’re so tiny I can hardly tell! Ha-ha!” 

It took some time before Holm released Sylph, and when he did, he kept by her side, a giant, protective shadow. During his initial greetings he must have noticed Sombra and me, but it was only as we were lead towards Ironbark Vale that he mentioned us.

“You keep odd company, sister. I hadn’t realised you’d joined the Waki’nin.” Holm’s words were not said with any ill-will, and there was even a note of respect in the look he cast towards me. 

Fast stepping to keep pace beside her brother, Sylph shrugged. “Has there been word from our herd, then?”

“Cherry Blossom Vale has been in contact, warning that members of their herds sought to wake the Queen. I presume they mean you?”

Sylph and I shared concerned glances. I undid the thong holding Llallawynn in her improvised sheath, while Sylph continued chatting with her brother.

“You know me, brother. I just can’t stay out of trouble.”

Holm chuckled, and I breathed easier. “So true. Why, remember…” I tuned out the rest as he began to relive memories of their youngling years.  

Ironbark Vale was much like our own Cherry Blossom Vale, a hidden place of magic and beauty. Their holy tree gifted them with ironwood. The tree resisted all attempts at cutting, no saw made by pony or halla could mark its bark. Each fall the tree shed its branches so that it seemed a singular pole covered in gnarled faces. These discarded branches were what the vale’s masters work. Even then, the wood was difficult to shape, taking all the gathered master Badgers to succeed. But when worked, ironwood is stronger than the greatest steel and resistant even against a dragon’s fearsome breath. They’d crafted the first such branches into what seemed to be a thin, frail gate, but one capable of holding off an ogre. 

Inside the vale, on layered tiers of what may have been some ancient quarry made in some forgotten age, stood the village. Only the elder’s hall had been completed, and it was to this large, central structure we were ushered through a growing crowd. 

All around us played younglings, members of Wolf Lodge tending to the fawns. As in Cherry Blossom Vale, not a single fawn had been stillborn among Ironbark Vale’s herds that year. A statue to the Queen stood beneath the holy tree, an altar covered in offerings of flowers and a few marks sprinkled around a sword and helm, an ironwood cup of bitter ale as the center piece.

Adults ceased their work to help those of our herd that struggled on weary hooves. Beds were found and warm food provided. Most refused the aid with a firm shake of their heads, standing behind Sylph as she faced Cedar Vale’s elders. 

At first, I assumed they were the Eagles that had formed the elders of Sognaheim’s herds, instead we faced a council formed of a Master from each lodge. 

They stared down on us with at first warm smiles. Their welcome faded as Sombra and I stepped from the herd to flank Sylph.

“So, it is as we were told.” The Eagle elder was a dour faced stag with a pinched muzzle and small, perpetually narrowed eyes. “A second pony in the Taiga, and one who stinks of death and foul things. Why have you permitted such as him among your herd?”

“I do not…” Sylph sputtered, the Eagle’s venom setting her back. Even I was a little surprised, though more at having not been singled out with Sombra. It was an odd feeling. The elders above accepted my presence without question, much as Holm and his Bears had done. 

Her thoughts re-ordered, Sylph attempted to defend Sombra. “Without him we never—”

She was interrupted by Sombra placing a hoof on her withers. “May I speak for myself?” After he received a curt nod, he stepped forward. “Elders of Ironbark Vale, I neither expect nor ask for any comfort among your halls. I am Sombra de l’Espanya, and it is by my unknowing hoof that you and all your kind have suffered unspeakable tragedy. It is a burden that I am no stranger to carrying, for I stood at Celestia’s side as she burned the plains of Airegos, and it was I who betrayed her trust and stole every unicorns’ dreams. Murderer, defiler, warlord, wizard, and king; I am all these and so much less. But, what I am, above all others, is one who seeks, with all that remains of his time on this disc, for atonement.”

Sombra took a step towards the elders, but he did not bow. Instead, he raised his head higher still, so defiant and so proud, and brushed back the tattered cloak he wore to reveal the crystal thrust into his chest.

“I show you the mark of my sins, elders, so that you may judge fairly. With all my power, I dedicated myself to these halla before you, to ensure that they would see Sol’s grace, feel the kiss of the wind on their faces, and breath the air as free halla, not as slaves to the Diamond Dogs. I will accept whatever you decree.” 

The elders conferred, and then nodded.

“You may remain,” they said, and the crowd let out a breath. “Rest this eve, and tomorrow we will discuss your plans.”

With that, the elders withdrew back into their hall, and we were found places to rest. Singing flowed through the vale that night as our new herd began to recover, our bellies full and our thirst quenched by the vale’s mystical waters. Holm rejoined us at once, guiding the three of us towards the frame of the unfinished hall for the Bears.

“Father!” a voice called from the humming throng. A tall youngling appeared in our path, a wide grin on his equally wide face. Though a few years from his Brou’alla, his shoulders were already growing broad. He skidded into a hasty bow in front of Holm. “I am glad you are home already.”

Holm’s face split into a wider grin as he shucked off his helm and plonked it onto his son’s head. “Indeed! And look at what prizes your father found.” Holm indicated the survivors of Gul Moloch with a wave of his head. “Go on, your keepers will wonder what mischief you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

“Is that little Mountain?” Sylph asked as she and I watched the youngling, smiling at his trophy, run off to join his creche-mates. “He’s grown so much.”

Seeing the younglings play made me wonder and imagine what kind of hind my River would grow up to be. She was not a big fawn, at least by halla standards. As if that were not enough, her eyes, so large and bright, and mane would mark her as different. For some reason, I pictured her with it tied back in a braid and tucked into a thick, wolf-hide cloak. 

Unseen, a grin forced its way onto my face and a low laugh filled my lungs. 

She’d be a nomad, like her parents, and I picture her as a Fox, singing and dancing with no hint of the disc’s weight on her withers. I can not picture her as a Bear, though perhaps she… she… Pardon me, I begin to drift.   

With a last chuckle, I put the images in a safe place to one side in my thoughts, letting them warm but not distract. 

“Aye. He’s going to be a big one, like his mother.” Holm’s face fell into a melancholy that he shook off as he called for drinks of honey mead.   

 We did not stay up late. Revelry would come later, for that night all we desired was rest. After sharing with Holm the tales of our travels, correcting key points here and there, or filling in details for the others, we retired to our beds.

I expected to fall right to sleep. There were no small stones jabbing me in awkward places, replaced by a nice mattress of dried grasses and wool, while thick blankets warded off the high mountain chill. It was the closest to laying on a cloud mattress that I’ve ever been.  

As I closed my eyes and let the tension of the past several weeks drain away, I found no comfort. Wounds that I’d thought healed, allowed myself to forget, tore open and bled anew. 

For so long, I’d refused to acknowledge Growler’s absence, the hole he’d once filled. I squeezed my eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the image of his smile. His long laugh, sounding so much like the hooting of an owl, assaulted me. I… 







Velvet’s voice faltered, the usual rhythm of her storytelling collapsing as she choked. She turned away from the others, gazing out on the fields being tilled in the hopes of hiding her emotions. She didn’t cry, though a few tears made her sight blur.

There was a slight shift to the carriage when Comet switched places with Limelight. He draped a leg around Velvet’s withers and drew her away from the window to press her head against his neck. 

He said something in a gentle voice that she didn’t quite catch. The words were unimportant compared to the love imparted by his touch. 

For half a mile Velvet mastered her feelings. Not just for Growler, but for all the others she’d lost over the years. From her parents, to her sisters and friends, and so many, many more besides. 

Two-Step and Limelight stayed quiet, averting their eyes as Velvet continued to center her thoughts. They feigned to take the keenest fascination in the field-hooves hard at work in the Sparkle Flower gardens, repairing damage caused over night by some wild beast. Furtive glances to Velvet and Comet gave away their curiosity. 

As the carriage turned up the long lane to the manor, Velvet wiped her eyes clean with a kerchief. In a voice that cracked at first, but grew stronger as she spoke, she returned to her story. 
 






The next morning came and I was awoken by a rough hoof on my withers. 

“Velvet, it is time to get up,” Sylph said with some insistence, more so after I rolled over with a grumble, pulling my quilt over my head. A quilt that was tossed out onto the dew soaked grass beyond my tent. “Oh no you don’t Vel, the elders are expecting us.”

I sat up with my mane and tail prickled like the quills of a porcupine and eyes heavy with the lingering effects of too much mead consumed by a slight frame. Grumbling for a few minutes to ready myself, I conjured a bowl of water and combs then set them to refreshing me. After putting on my black robes, I stumbled out of the tent I’d shared with Sylph and towards the elder’s hall.

The inside of the hall was sparse, as befitted the Halla. At the far end, there stood a half-circle of eight benches. Each elder’s place was marked by an engraving of their totem on a back-rest. Seven of the benches were filled, the elders noting our entrance with stoney indifference. The eighth sat empty, marked by a roaring cougar. Rooms for each of the elders branched off along the walls, two on each side of the ground floor, with narrow steps leading to another set of rooms overlooking the main hall. Behind the benches sat an open door. Through it, a low, round table could be seen. 

“Come forward, come, come,” the Eagle elder waved his hoof at Sylph and me. “We have much to discuss and little time if you wish to leave this day, rather than on the morrow.”

Before Sylph could respond—as the defacto leader of the herd it was her right to speak first—the Owl elder let out a long snort and shook her large antlers. “Oh, do we really have to dance around the issue.” She leaned over the rest to stare at me with an intensity I’d not felt in some ages. Her eyes seemed to strip me bare and expose the smallest flaws. I’d have suspected magic, but there was not a hint of it in the room beyond what Sylph and I wore. “You mean to wake the Queen, and we would know why.”

“That’s enough. This is not some interrogation. They are our guests.” The Bear elder thumped his leg-rest twice.  

“Her release will be proceeded by these signs three; A pony blessed by stars of Dark and Light hidden from sisters’ eyes; Ravens shadow her steps, Bears towers at her side, and Wolves circle with eyes outward; The disc cracks from a Name, and she will be the Sorceress. So Sayeth I, Clover the Clever, in this the first year of Equestria.”

Sylph held her head low and voice steady as she recited the prophecy that had shaped my life among the halla without my knowledge. It was the reason the Ravens had taken me in, and why the Eagles had desired me gone or dead.

“Velvet is that pony. She bears the Dark Runes, not seen since the last age, and wields Llallawynn. She is of Raven, Bear, and Wolf lodges.”    

The Raven and Owl elders both nodded, while the Eagle frowned, then twisted his lips into a smile. “Are you the Sorceress, Velvet Sparkle?”

I cleared my throat as I stepped forward. 

“I don’t really care, to be honest. All I care about is saving my daughter. If that means being this ‘Sorceress’, so be it.”

He stroked his muzzle and conferred with the other elders. I began to grow nervous as the minutes dragged on with only the occasional glance in mine or Sylph’s direction. 

At one point the Raven elder asked Sylph of our plans.

“We will leave as soon as we are able for Sunfall Stone to meet with the Ravens of our herd,” Sylph answered.

This seemed to satisfy the elder, who returned to the heated debate with his peers. More time dragged on, with food and water brought in serving to create a pause. I began to wonder just why Sylph and I needed to be present when so much of the discussion seemed to be ignoring us. A yawn broke from me just as the elders reached a consensus. Beside me Sylph wavered on her hoofs. Eyes shut, she seemed to be half-asleep herself, though her lips moved as she either talked or sung to herself. 

“We have agreed that it is in the best interests of all involved if Master Holm Mountain and his Bears accompany you to Sunfall Stone, and to any point thereafter at his discretion,” proclaimed the Eagle elder with a decisive nod from his fellow elders. 

“Masters, Elders, I… We don’t need the assistance. Sylph shook her head, and I found myself peering up at the elders in suspicion. 

A hoof slammed into a legrest, the Badger elder snorting. “Tosh!” she snapped. “You are not the only ones loyal to the Queen. She saved how many? The Eagles of the old castles would have us wallow and stagnate, abandoned and forgotten by the rest of the disc. We need the Queen to return. The Halla must be lead into the long needed spring. You will have all the help we can muster, whether you desire it or not.”   

The other elders stamped their hooves in agreement, and shouted, “Hear, hear,” and “Too true!”

Sylph and I shared a quiet smile, though neither of us let hope or relief truly blossom yet. 

“Then what have you been discussing all this time?” I asked.

“Particulars, the particulars of our assistance, my dear hind.” The Eagle elder’s eyes danced with mirth and a little mischief as he answered. “Behind you we will send runners to all the nomads and to find the other Vales to inform them of what transpires. We will shelter those who followed you from the dog’s deprivations that wish it. Though I doubt it will be necessary.”

I shook my head. “We do not mean to stay past the Summer Moon. That was the agreed upon date that we should move on. Not that it matters. Without the sheers, we can not collect the sprig from the tree.”

“Have faith, Halla, that the way will become clear. There were more than a single set of sheers crafted.” The Badger elder wore a soft, motherly smile as she spoke, and for a moment I felt that she was right. That a path would appear, whether we stumbled upon it or were directed towards its course. The Queen had helped the Halla before, surely she’d help us when our goals were so pure.

“The Summer Moon? Why, that is only three weeks away.” The Owl elder clicked her tongue. 

“Then there is not a moment to lose.” I put on a resigned look and set my shoulders for what trials lay ahead.

We left the elder’s hall to find Holm’s Bears and the halla rescued from Gul Moloch already gathered and waiting in ordered lines. They cheered as we trotted down the steps, horns sounding from the grey mountain slopes. Smiles greeted us as we made our way through the throng, and even Sombra bowed his head as we passed.

Sylph jumped to the statue’s base, and in a booming voice belied by her slight frame, chanted.

Arise now, arise, Halla of Iron!
Dread deeds awake, fire fills the night!
Let armour be bound,
And mountain horns sound!

To the Sunfall Stone we march!

A chorus of cheers rose from a thousand throats, and we were off, those who remained in the Vale still chanting as we descended the mountain with Sunfall Stone a month’s march away. 







The dinner proved to be a long, uncomfortable affair. 

It started off entirely on the wrong hoof, with the Sisters arriving late due to their carriage throwing a wheel. They walked the last quarter-mile to the manor through a freak rain shower, pegasi darting overhead to get it under control. Wet through-and-through, the Revered Speaker and Sisters were ushered into the Blue Salon where a fire waited and they could pat down their coats with towels. 

The priestesses emerged, their robes almost blisteringly warm from Mrs. Hardtack’s drying, just as dinner was served, with no time for idle chatter before being seated.

This was a good thing, Velvet decided as she took her place at the table’s head.
 
Whisper shot Blessed little, angry glances as she took her seat, thankfully far from the Sisters. Likewise, Cadence had never stopped looking anywhere but at Blessed, and once seated she took up a deep conversation with her father-in-law. Unlike his wife and father, Shining conversed with the nearest of the Sisters with a happy abandon. 

Unable to hear what was going on at the table’s far end, Velvet focused her attention on Blessed.

“I had been looking forward to meeting Princess Tyr,” Blessed said to Limelight, seated across from her. “The other Revered Speakers have been most curious about this filly. It is a shame she could not be present.”

Limelight pressed her lips together, a look darted towards the distant end of the table where Cadence and Shining sat, as far from Blessed as decency allowed, before answering. “I’m afraid I don’t know all the details. But isn’t it common for all orphaned fillies of nobles to be made wards? The same happened with aunt Sateen, as I recall.”

“Oh, of course!” Blessed gave an eager nod of her head. “Sateen’s ward-ship was sold off, as is usual. That is what makes Tyr’s case so strange and fascinating to the Sisterhood. For a filly who would have inherited a very minor title to be adopted by Princess Cadence. Why, it defies belief! If not for your sister’s Awakening, why, Tyr would be the talk of every gossiping noble from here to Vanhoover.”

Her face a mask of neutrality, not an easy pose for Limelight to maintain, she took a sip of her soup before responding. “You would have to ask my brother. Tyr’s parents were his friends. I never met them myself.” 

“That is a very good suggestion, I think I will.” 

Velvet let out a short lived sigh of relief. No sooner had she mentally made a note to congratulate Limelight on dealing with Blessed’s queries, than the Revered Speaker was calling down the table. 

“Forgive my rudeness, Your Highnesses, but Lady Limelight has made a wonderful suggestion that I speak to you about Princess Tyr. I am still amazed that you adopted her. ”

Cadence’s spoon stopped just before her mouth, an annoyed tick in the corner of the princess’ eye. “Revered Speaker, this isn’t the time. Let’s not spoil our hostesses dinner,” she said in a firm, level tone that carried her dislike back up the table. 

Blessed had just readied her reply, it dancing across the tip of her tongue like a stage production of the Hearth’s Warming plays, when Adamant spoke up instead.

“That’s because Tyr is actually an alicorn and over a hundred years old! She told us so.” He added an emphatic nod followed by his big, winning grin. 

“Did she now?” Blessed turned to Adamant, sitting just a few places to Limelight’s right, and as such, a far more acceptable conversation partner than Cadence. For her part, Cadence did the only thing open to her and laughed at some non-existent joke from Glitterdust.

“She was playing a game with you, Adamant,” quipped Limelight, swooping in for the rescue. “Tyr is a unicorn, as you know very well.”

“But…”

“She’s an ill filly, Adam,” added Elegant and Melody, throwing their considerable moral weight in Limelight’s favour. “Who misses her mother and father. You can’t believe her stories. Like how she’s had wine with her uncle, the God of Festivals? Or chased storms with her aunt who sings with the winds?”

“I thought it was her great-aunt who was the winds, and a cousin of festivals,” Comet called along the table, following it by turning to his middle son, “Could I trouble you for the salt?”

“It changes, father,” the twins said in smug satisfaction. “Next week she’ll be Twilight’s proper niece.”

“Well, technically, she is, isn’t she? Twilight is still a Sparkle…  right?” This came from Star, never one to pick up on the subtleties of a conversation. 

Velvet made a little noise at the back of her throat. “Twilight will always be a Sparkle, just as Tyr is an Invictus.” Velvet received a firm nod from Cadence, and the conversation at last veered away from dangerous grounds. 

After a brief discussion on the upcoming hoofball season in which it was revealed Blessed was a rather vocal supporter of the Canterlot Casters, the Revered Speaker asked the children if they had any plans about what they wanted to do with their futures. The question was meant for the older Sparkles who’d received their marks, but it was the youngest Sparkle who answered first.  

“I’m going to be a War Wizard, like mother!” Adamant proclaimed through the ketchup smeared around his muzzle. 

Glitterdust and Velvet shared a concerned look while Blessed merely leaned over and said, “Oh, a War Wizard? No Equestrian university has trained one in a hundred years, you know. You may have to go to the War Colleges in Prance or Hackney, unless you expect to be either Celestia or Luna’s apprentice.”

Face puffed up, Adamant said, in a tone as if he were talking to the village fool, “I know that! But I’m an Armour of House Sparkle. Shiny is an officer, and Twoey is a tictaction. Stallions of House Sparkle are fighters.” He jutted his chin forward after his little speech, one that earned him an amused snort from Two-Step.

“Oh, you are in the army as well?” The question came from the Sister across from Two-Step, innocent curiosity blossoming in her eyes.

“I… uh… No, no, ma’am, I am not.” Two-Step shook his head a little too much vigor, almost sending his spoon flying across the table. “My brother is confused.”

“Am not! You said so yourself, Twoey, you’re a—”

“Adamant, remember your manners,” rebuffed Whisper without looking up from her soup.

Undaunted, Adamant continued. “Twoey is the best there is at Stones. He can beat great uncle Pumice and everything!”  

Two-Step’s face gave a slight twitch, the beginnings of a blush starting across his face. 

“I’m merely proficient at the game.”

Never one to let an opportunity to further embarrass her brother slip past, Limelight put on a wicked smirk, and, in a voice just loud enough to carry, said to the other Sister, “He’s the youngest champion of the Eastern Division in three hundred years.” 

“Really? That is an achievement. But, what’s this about you being a War Wizard, Lady Velvet?” 

Velvet held back a grimace by taking a small bite of bread dipped in her soup. Dabbing her lips to stall for a few more seconds, she sighed, and explained. “I’ve been telling my family about my years away from Equestria. During that time I was trained in some foreign magics, but not as a War Wizard.”

“That’s right. Mother is the Sorceress, not some common wizard,” intoned Elegant and Melody in perfect synchronicity. The pair looked at each other afterwards and giggled.

“‘The Sorceress’?” Blessed covered her mouth with a hoof. “I knew you were a capable practitioner, Velvet, but that is some title to carry. You do know the connotations and origins, yes?” 

“Of course I do,” Velvet began to say, but was overridden by a flurry of negatives from around the table. 

Only Star spoke up in answer. Focusing on her pastries, fork pushing them from one side of her plate to another, she said, “A Sorceress is a mare who can call and bind beings from beyond the disc to her will. In the Book of Names, the last sorceresses belonged to Thuelesia and conversed with the Archons. All their knowledge and spells vanished when the empire fell.”

Blessed gave Star a pleased nod. “Indeed.” 

The table grew silent for some time, and, when conversation resumed, it was on more mundane things, the oddity of Sparkledale’s weather, which hoofball teams would do well that year, and subjects of similar natures. Velvet spoke little during this time, not daring to look up from her dish for fear of being asked more about how she’d received her rare title, and what it entailed. The children resumed their usual squabbles and verbal jousting, and a steady hum of happy noise filled the room. At last, the dinner was attaining something akin to a good-time.

It was as dessert was being served, the pies covered in a warm, misty veil as they were placed, that the atmosphere was shattered and returned to its turgid lows. 

“Archons…” Cadence mumbled during a lull. She’d been pushing her pie around her plate, a pensive, thoughtful pinch at the corner of her mouth. Abruptly she stood, and called along the table, “Forgive me Velvet, but there is someone I must see and not another moment to be lost.” 

“Princess,” Velvet called back with urgency as Cadence leaned down to kiss Shining and whisper something in his ear. “If you are going to speak with who I dread, take great care. She is destruction incarnate.” 

“I am aware.” Cadence nodded once and then vanished in a blue flash. 
	
	

> Part Ten
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	



Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Ten


That Monday—like every other since her return—dawned with Princess Luna making the flight from Canterlot to Moonstone Castle. Her zbori guards cruised at her flanks, leathery batwings beating twice for every one of her own, their formation tight and eyes scanning the skies above and below. 

There was a thin, hungry smile on Luna’s lips, one spurred by her previous visit to the castle. There were a number of new recruits for not only the Royal Guard, but also the beginnings of what would become Twilight’s protectors. A few promising candidates had emerged in that session, and Luna longed to see how much they’d improved.

She had just put Selene to sleep, the moon sliding below the disc’s rim, when a familiar presence brushed her awareness. A casual glance over her withers revealed a broad winged shadow trying to hide behind the lingering clouds from the previous day’s rain. Like a cat, the shadow darted closer and closer, lingering a few moments, half-visible behind a pale sheet of orange, before it continued. 

“Let us take the scenic route this morn, ladies,” Luna called out over the wind as she angled around a puffy cumulonimbus. 

Once behind the cloud, Luna beat her wings hard to gain altitude. Her sentries knew well their princess and began to fan out with only two attempting to keep pace at her side. The other’s found nooks in the cloud cover to conceal themselves and ambush the interloper. Blades flicked out of their armoured boots as the guards readied themselves to dive. 

Leveling off, Luna was pleased to see the shadow wheeling around the cloud below her. 

It drew up short as it noticed the sky where Luna and her escort should have been was empty. 

In that moment of confusion, Luna struck, falling like a black javelin. A whisper of silver smoke heralded the arrival of Tamashi, Luna’s ancient Long Odachi, the sword’s blade like a crescent of moonlight in the dawn’s fiery glow. 

Sol crested the mountains in the same moment the shadow realised her peril. Luna’s eyes danced with grim amusement as they connected with those subtle amethysts that were oh so familiar and filled with deep shock. Wings snapping out to arrest her descent, Tamashi continued on, blade turned so the flat smacked the back of Cadence’s neck with a soft thwack.

“Mother! What in Tartarus do you think you are doing?” Cadence snapped, beating her wings to put a few lengths between them, a hoof rubbing where she’d been hit.

“Playing, of course,” Luna laughed. With a simple spell, she dismissed Tamashi and settled on the cloud’s ledge. Around slightly conciliatory smile, Luna added, “I… may have taken it a little far, perhaps.”

“You could have killed me, and you…” Cadence scrunched her face up as the ends of her mane and tail began to dance like pink and white flames.

Luna lowered her head. “I was wrong. Is that what you wish to hear? I apologize.”      

“You… I… No. Arguing over this isn’t worth it.” Cadence gave her head a vehement shake as she settled on the cloud across from Luna. “Just, what if I’d been a pegasus?”

“Then I would not have done so. It is not as though you were hiding yourself.” 

Cadence let out a small huff. “That’s not the point, mother, you… No, I said I wasn’t going to argue, and I’m not. I accept your apology.”

Face brightening, Luna started towards Cadence, intent on giving her daughter a hug. She stopped when Cadence stiffened and backed up a few steps. The reaction hurt, like a knife thrust into her heart. 

Flustered, Cadence paced a few times across the cloud’s edge and chewed on the inside of her mouth. “I came to ask you a favour, actually.”

“Truly?” Luna gave her a flat stare. “A favour? Just now you deny me the simplest affections, only to request a favor? Such temerity. I am uncertain if I should feel proud or put upon.” 

“It’s not for me, mother, but for Tyr. She is sick.”

“Ah, I understand. I recall the first time you came down with a cold. Worry not, my daughter, you will learn that such is only natural for fillies and colts,” Luna said, dismissing Cadence’s worries with the shrug of a wing before jumping from the cloud.  

“She’s dying!” Cadence shouted, taking off after her.

Luna gave her a stern frown. “Fie. You know that is not possible. She is under mother’s protection.”

“I know what I have seen. Something is wrong with the spell.” Cadence beat her wings to catch up to Luna. “Would you just listen to me.”

“Certainly. I always have time for you. Speak as much as you want on the way to Moonstone.”

Cadence let out a relieved breath before launching into a long explanation of the past few weeks. She spared no detail, no matter how seemingly minor, of Tyr’s condition. Through it all Luna flew in silence, asking only for clarification on a few points. Cadence had only just reached her decision to involve Celestia when the castle’s courtyard came into view.

With a gentle clatter, Luna touched down, the castle’s commandant and trainees waiting for her in a loose cluster at the far end. Cadence expected them to stop and find a quiet place to finish the conversation. Purpose in her stride, Luna didn’t slow as she headed directly for the adjacent hall.  

“Mother, come back here!” Cadence shouted, hurrying to keep pace. “I’m not finished!”

Once host to banquets for the castle’s lady and knights, the dining hall was now filled with matts and racks of practice weapons, with everything from dirks to pikes lining the walls between the ancient tapestries. Luna continued to ignore Cadence, reaching out with her magic to lift a pair of practice swords. Checking them for balance and finding them acceptable, she tossed one towards Cadence.

She caught the sword before it hit the ground and  frowned at it, then at Luna. “You can not be serious.”

“I came here to practice. If you desire my attention…” A wolfish grin spread across Luna’s muzzle as she began to circle.

Cadence was only vaguely aware that the hall was filling with eager faces. She glanced back to the practice sword thinking of Tyr.

A slight shift in Luna’s shadow was all the warning Cadence had before she was set upon. It was an accepted fact that, while Celestia was the most powerful of the alicorns, Luna was the deadliest. Within three strokes Luna was behind Cadence, practice blade tapping her between the base of her mane. Cadence wasn’t certain what had occurred, only that it was a complete route.    

“You haven’t been practicing,” Luna tutted as she returned to the starting position. “Perhaps I should ask Star Shimmer to give you some lessons.” 

“I don’t need help from Celestia’s pet monster.”  

Another exchange, this one even quicker, ended with Cadence on her back trying to understand when, precisely, she’d been tripped. Leaning down, Luna whispered into her ear, “She doesn’t like being called that. It’s hurtful, mean, and besides that, wrong. I happen to know she’s a rather sweet and considerate pony, under that rough exterior.”

“Why am I not surprised you two are friends?” Cadence huffed as she rolled to her hooves.

Ignoring the snide undertone, Luna asked, “What is your plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a rather self-explanatory question, I should think.” Luna rested her sword against her shoulder. “You are worried for Tyr. What are you going to do to help her?”

“I am going to Phoenicia.”

Luna almost dropped her sword at the name. She worked her mouth for a few moments, unable to find the words she wanted. 

Seeing her opportunity, Cadence struck, and in six strokes was nursing a stinging slap to her nose. 

“A good attempt. You overextended, however. Keep your sword closer for more control. Fighting isn’t about being flashy.” Luna demonstrated a standard guard with a few thrusts and cuts. “Now, why would you want to go to the city of chaos?”  

Cadence rolled her eyes. “They never actually worshipped Chaos, you know.”

“Must you argue everything?”

“Well…” Cadence bit her tongue before a petulant reply could be fully formed. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to answer properly. “I’m not going to speak to them anyways. It’s their guest with whom I wish to speak.”

“Oh? And who is that, pray tell?” Luna watched Cadence for any deception as they once more set their blades.

Cadence opened her mouth, snapped it back shut, and then asked, “Did auntie Tia tell you about my little, um, encounter a few years back? With the archon?”

“You’re not serious? She’s in Phoenicia?” Luna’s tone was laced with concern, and a hint of anger. Not at Cadence, but at the idea of her daughter facing the disc’s only archon alone. After Cadence gave a little nod, a little flutter of uncertainty touched her heart. “Tell me you’re at least going to bring Penumbra, just so I don’t worry.”

Another roll of Cadence’s eyes was followed by a short nod. “I was going to anyways. Don’t tell auntie Tia where I’m going. I don’t want her to follow.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Luna scoffed as she trotted out of the sparring circle, “We’ve hardly spoken in weeks.” Practice swords put aside, Luna turned her attention to the recruits taking her and Cadence’s places. “This is the most time we’ve spent together since I came back, you know.”

“I… really?” Cadence grew quiet as she turned over the last few years. 

“Never can I make up for what you were put through as a filly. Nightmare or no, it doesn’t matter. I should have done better. Were it within my power I would go back and change it all and be the mother you deserved. But I can not, so, I will be her now as best I am able.” Luna took great care not to look at Cadence and instead focus on the sparring recruits. Her heart was as a tremendous drum, each beat made her tremble and inflicted the slightest quaver in her words. “All I desire is the chance.”    

Cadence’s jaw shifted with unspoken words. Anger, hot and fresh, mixed with old wounds in a slow, forced breath.

“I’m... not sure I’m ready, mother.” A second, less bitter, breath was followed by the tiniest of smiles. “But, I suppose I should try. It’d be hard trying to explain to my future foal why I don’t speak to her or his grandmother.”

Luna’s head whipped around so fast she almost hurt herself. “You’re not… That’s just the season talking… Yes?”

Behind a stifled giggle, Cadence shrugged. “It’s been on my mind more and more the last century, I admit, and even more so lately with everything that’s happening. Maybe next year. For now, I need to take care of my foster daughter. But I worry at leaving her unguarded. I wanted to ask you to look out for her while I’m away for a day or two, but since you don’t want to do me a favour…”

Despite having the distinct impression that she was being manipulated, Luna couldn’t hold back a quick, “No, I will do this for you. She is as much my grand-daughter, after all.”
  
“Thank you, mother.”

They parted only after Luna extracted a promise that Cadence would take care. It was a futile promise both knew, but it at least made Luna feel a little better. 







The door gave a little squeal of protest as Velvet opened it and stepped into Tyr’s room. Dawn’s light spilled over the sleeping filly, dancing across her golden mane with its cobalt streaks. Hesitating, Velvet just watched Tyr for some minutes, the blankets slow rise and fall barely perceptible.

On occasion, Tyr would twitch, a hoof jittering or ear giving a flick as she dreamt. It put a thin smile on Velvet’s muzzle. 

Her smile faded as Tyr gave a full body shudder and whimpered, “Mother, don’t send me away.” 

The click of the door shutting woke her with a start, blue eyes flashing open and darting to take in the room before settling on Velvet and relaxing. “What time is it?” she asked with a big yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning,” Velvet said as she went to the bedside and uncorked Tyr’s medicine. 

Like Cadence, she had little faith that the tincture could cure Tyr. It did seem to relieve some of the symptoms, and for now, that was enough. Face scrunched up, Tyr accepted the foul smelling drought with only a little complaint. 

As Tyr laid back and let her eyes slide shut once more, Velvet probed the magic surrounding and penetrating the filly. 

The weave was immeasurably complex, formed from a tight, spiralling, golden nexus devoid of runes. It was pure aether worked in such a way that the weave itself acted like a single rune. Angry red patches pulsed as if alive but not in tune to the rest of the weave. Like spiders, they crawled over the rest of the weave leaving little trails of corruption. Velvet pressed deeper into the weave, taking great care to not exacerbate the spell. 

Where the corruption originated, Velvet could not tell. It could as easily have been a flaw with the spell, from Tyr rejecting it, or some outside influence. Given when Tyr began to fall ill—the night of Twilight’s gala to celebrate her Awakening—Velvet didn’t know how anypony could have meddled. Tyr had been like glue to Cadence and Shining, only leaving their sight for a brief trip to get ice-cream from the kitchen with Whisper and the other fillies before the ceremony.

No, Velvet was almost certain that the cause was Tyr herself.

It had been wrong to foster her, no matter Celestia’s fears. Fears that Velvet knew were not unfounded from first-hoof experience. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Velvet, startled out of her ruminations, lost hold of the divination with it shattering as if a pane of glass struck by a stone.

Putting on a smile for Tyr’s benefit, Velvet leaned down and kissed her just in front of the horn. Tyr tensed at the soft touch, seeming to have to force herself to relax. 

“I was just thinking about my past.”

“You’ve been telling the story to the others again, haven’t you?” Tyr crossed her hooves and pouted. “It’s supposed to be my story, not theirs.”

Caught off guard by her complaint, Velvet could only laugh. “Your story? I’m pretty sure it’s mine, little princess.”

Tyr gave her head a violent shake, or as violent as she dared before her eyes started to spin and she grew dizzy. “Nope. It’s mine now. You offered it to me, remember? You can’t take back an offering.”  

Laughter growing, a wonderful, easy sound that lightened her worries, Velvet sat down on her usual cushion next to Tyr’s bed. “Well, how about I tell you what you missed, and promise not to tell the story anymore unless you’re around? Does that sound fair?”

“I suppose that is acceptable,” Tyr decided after thinking it over, then jabbed a hoof at Velvet. “Just… Stop leaving me out. My cousins used to do that. Especially the Muses. It… I like having a proper family, for a change.” 

“Well, I am sure they miss you and are very worried for you.” 

Tyr let out a snort and shook her head. It was with sad, pitying eyes that she turned to Velvet and said, “You ponies don’t know real alicorns very well. Celestia is close, but even she is so… nice and friendly. Only… Only Authea was like that, back home. All the others, even the ones who thought they were good, they weren’t.”

Sensing a chance to learn more of Tyr’s past, Velvet prodded for more, asking, “You don’t speak of the others often. Is this why?” 

Tyr almost answered, but caught herself and just shook her head once more as she clamped her mouth shut.

The moment was gone and opportunity lost. Instead of pressing for more, Velvet recounted what she’d told the others while Tyr had slept, sparing no detail.
 






Sunfall Stone is an old place of great magic and wonder. It is said that in the first age, when Marelantis was but a little village and the disc was young, there lived a poet who wrote verses of such beauty that it made Sol herself weep. The tears streamed behind her as she flew that day. When night came and Selene rose, the moon was shocked to find herself surrounded by her sister’s tears. She prodded one of the golden lights and it fell, landing in the north. The others stayed behind, and they became the stars.

—Yes, I know that’s not true, Tyr, and the stars are not the sun’s tears. It’s just a legend.—   

There is another tale, this one of a battle in another land and far more recent—as the disc reckons things. The ponies, far from the taiga, were at war with the griffons. Against their elder’s wishes, Celestia and Luna took up arms and lead the pony armies. It was the first time all three tribes had ever worked together, putting aside their differences as unicorns, pegasi, and Earth ponies. During the battle Celestia met a great lord of the demons. 

High into the sky they fought, and those that watched trembled in fear as their blows threatened to crack the disc itself. Each time they met thunder crackled and fire fell like rain. Celestia was young and the demon was old, and in the end experience won out. 

Sol howled when Celestia fell, for the sun felt the princess’ pain, and when the demon cut off her wing, so too was a piece of Sol broken free. This piece tumbled from the sky unnoticed among the blinding flash of anger she gave off. With a resounding bang heard from one end of the Taiga to the other, it landed on the edge of Lake Babine.

There it sits still, a giant stone of striking yellow that hums with lingering magic.

Next to Sunfall Stone sits the Great Lodge of the Ravens. Much like Gamla Uppsala had once been the center for the Lions, Sunfall Stone was the greatest repository for the Ravens, holding a library to rival the Royal Archives. Unlike the lodge in Reinalla, Sunfall Stone was not a place of teaching. Few apprentices ever set hoof in it’s halls, and the masters that make it their home spend their time either overseeing the continual copying of the lodge’s texts, or sequestered in their laboratories experimenting. Their only other task was administrating the other branch lodges, deciding which masters would preside over the teaching lodges such as in Reinalla, for instance.

The Great Lodge was not aptly named. While the library held a vast store of books, it was small and cramped, with texts overflowing from shelves to spill into untended piles. Likewise, the laboratories were nothing like those seen among the universities of ponykind, but ancient things with cobweb and dust covered shelves, and broken aparati shoved into corners and forgotten. The masters and journeyhalla were a good sort, but their minds were not concerned overly by the state of their lodge.

After three weeks hard travel, we stood on a low hill overlooking Sunfall Stone, smiles on our faces as we saw our destination at last. On the north side of the stone itself, across from the lodge, sat a camp. A sea of tents all in circles and swirls covered the ground, with torches and bonfires already lit. Patrols marched around the edges, and from within rose the din of mixed conversation and smiths tending forges. A wide path slithered its way towards the heart of the camp where a large, scarlet command tent stood dominating over the assembly. 

The halla along the path were silent as we entered. Many held hollow, haunted gazes. I would soon learn that they were from herds that had not heeded the Queen’s warning.

When we reached the central tent we found the Triplets waiting. Though it had only been a few months, it felt as if an age had passed since I’d last seen them. I broke into a canter at the sight of them and only slowed so I wouldn’t knock White over. 

After I nuzzled each in turn, I asked, “River, how is she?”

“She is in Master Wind’s care; hidden and safe,” White confirmed before she took on a grave face. “Velvet, we were about to break camp.”

“We’d started to lose hope of your arrival,” added Violet. 

In their usual, rolling method, it was Red who spoke next. “When Growler informed us—”

“Growler? He’s alive?!” I grabbed at Red, having to stand high on my hind hooves to look her in the eyes. 

“In the tent, but—” 

I ignored the rest of White’s words as I burst into the tent, my heart a flurry and a tremor in my hooves. Inside, I found a high table with a map of the north-western reaches spread across its surface and small figurines set about. Around the table stood a group of Bear masters. 

But I had eyes for only one halla. Growler stood contemplating the map as he listened to one of the masters speak. He wore his old armour, dented and scarred from the cave-in that had separated us, with the helm of a Grand Bear placed before him. But that was nothing to the wounds on his face. In the flickering light of torches I saw that, of his right antler, only a jagged stump remained. Scars, pink and puffy, radiated outward across Growler’s muzzle and down his throat. Over his eye was a soiled bandage.

“What of the…” Growler began, but his voice trailed off as his eye darted up to me. All chatter died down, the masters turning to see what had grabbed Growler’s attention. Slowly, he walked around the table, his face unreadable beneath the scars. 

“Dwemëu,” was all he said before he leaned down and embraced me. “I thought you lost for certain.”

Trembling with barely contained joy, I buried my face into his mane and responded with a free laugh. “Sylph said you’d died in the collapse.”

I shook as Growler let out a chuckle. “I nearly did. As I was laying there in the dark, wishing I could hold you a final time, I was visited by that ghost from the entrance hall. She led me around the draugen and back to the surface.” He squeezed tighter, then let me go so he could smile down on me. “Not a day has gone by that I have not regretted letting you go without me through that crypt.”

“You couldn’t follow,” I pointed out, glowing with joy as I stretched up to kiss him again. 

“That does not make it infuriate me any less.” He was about to add more, but a cough from the table drew our attention.

“If you two are going to rut, do it on your own time. We have a war to plan.” Snowflame growled as she tapped a hoof on the table’s edge, my face turning a cherry pink at her vulgarity. “If you wish to join us, Master Velvet, you may.”

I nodded my assent, hardly taking notice of the title, one I’d grow used to hearing over the next few weeks. At that moment, all I could look at or think about was Growler. Much of the meeting is a haze of arguing over minutia that didn’t interest me. Which herds could be trusted, disposition of forces, and such things. What I gathered was that the a call had been put out for any who were loyal to the Queen to gather, and the forces at Sunfall were those that had answered. 

It was an odd collection of wandering herds, much like those we’d met on our journey from Ironbark Vale to Sunfall Stone, and coteries of Bears. There were many Wolves as well, lead by a Master Wolf standing to one side.

My thoughts were pulled out of their hazy dream when Growler gave a sharp nod at whatever had last been said, then asked the Triplets, “What of the dryads? How do they fare?”

“Weak still. It is not natural for them to be so far from their groves.” White frowned and glanced away from me. “The effort of stemming the rot is also taking its toll.”

“Rot?” I looked to the Triplets for answers.

Snowflame spat to one side, her face twisted into a revolted sneer. “The Diamond Dogs’ first attack was against the dryads. Only a few escaped their grove as their hugreltren—heart-trees, Tyr—burned. Many of them died trying to put out the fires, cut down like they were rats in a Badger’s cache. We only know as my war party stumbled across and rescued the survivors. They refuse to speak on the matter further than to say that they must tend the forest. Bloody nonsense if you ask me.”

“Nonsense? Pah! The trees have been dying as if they lost the will to live.” Growler slammed a hoof onto the table so the map and little pieces on it jumped. “The rot is spreading. To kill a single dryad is heinous enough.” Growler shook his head and let out a slow sigh between his teeth. “But to slaughter an entire grove? The hounds have gone too far. Raiding is one thing. Attacking the forest spirits with such brazen disregard is insanity… And that is not the worst of it.”  

At the first mention of the dryads my joy had begun to wane, overtaken by dread. By the time they were done my blood ran as cold as a glacier fed stream.

Growler nodded to one of the pieces on the map, a dog figure in armour, holding a spear, and painted bright red. “They are marching north, burning and pillaging as they go. From what we can tell it is the First Vale to which they head. It’s the only place of note in that direction.”

“Surely they are not so mad as to attack the First Vale itself?” I exclaimed, searching the faces of those present for reassurance. I found none. “The tree is the font of all life. To kill it… it would be to kill everyone. Halla, pony, and diamond dog.”

Growler shook his head again, but did not answer as he didn’t have one to give. Snowflame made a noise a bit like a sneer mixed with clearing her throat. “Who can say what the dogs plans and goals may be. The simple fact is that the bastards are burning and slaughtering with a recklessness not seen since the last era.”

“All the west is in turmoil. More and more Diamond Dogs spill out of their warrens every day. They amass to the north, their numbers growing by the hour,” added Thistle, spitting to one side in disgust that was felt around the table. “It is to be war, and we are unprepared. Too many herds are scattered, or head to the cities seeking answers. Our numbers are not what we had hoped, even with the Ironbarks. Worse, they have the lead on us. We will have to march hard to reach the First Vale in time.”

“We have allowed ourselves to become too complacent,” agreed Holm Mountain, his voice behind me the first indication he’d joined. With an apology he pushed his way forward, the other Halla having to shuffle to make room. The tent had grown rather crowded. “We Bears have let our ranks dwindle and be spread thin. The Wolves are not equipped nor trained to deal with war, though they have spirit and have sworn to fight.” There was a murmur of agreement, the Masters nodding their heads in approval towards the solitary master Wolf present, watching quiet from a corner. “As for the the Ravens, why, they hide in their halls more and more. Even now, with our army encamped on their very doorstep, none can be bothered to poke their nose out. When we depart none of them will join our march.”

The triplets sighed and gave Holm a sour look. In their usual way of sharing words, they said, “The Ravens do support you, but we wizards have to be more careful. We see things you do not. There are forces at work, ancient and crafty, beyond—”

“No, Master Mountain is correct,” snapped Snowflame. “You lot could do more, now. The half dozen who followed you from Reinalla is a pathetic number next to the thousands of Halla gathered here.”

The triplets shook their heads in erie unison, with Red saying, “Deniability must be maintained in case the signs have been read wrong. And to keep the Eagle’s eyes turned elsewhere.”

“’Signs’? ‘Deniability’? Pah. Ravens, you lot can’t be trusted.” Snowflame snarled at the Triplets. For a moment I wondered if she was about to attack them, her eyes filled with a deep loathing and hooves scuffing the bare earth. 

She would have said more, and all progress lost as the meeting devolved into argument and foalish threats, if not for Growler.

“Silence!” He roared, his voice seeming to make the tent tremble and the very air grow still in respect. “What the Ravens chose we can not control. As we can not control those herds who wrap themselves in hatred and despair as if it were a blanket and follow the Eagle’s path. These so-called Loyalists who claim the Queen murdered their fawns… We can not control their hearts. No, we must look to each other now, for the nights ahead will be long and dark, and even the days will carry a terrible weight.” 

Growler turned his attention to the Wolf Master, who’d long been silent. “Master—What was her name... I should remember, we talked for leagues… This is going to bother me, now. I’ll call her Coast for the story—you will have as many of your wolves as you need to secure the fawns passage south. They must be taken to safety. The rest of us, we will head to the First Vale and protect it from the rabid dogs.”    

Master Coast inclined her head and then slipped out of the tent to start her preparations. 

“If no halla else has anything more to add, let us adjourn to our herds and enjoy this last evening. We have leagues of forest and tundra to cross. It will be best to leave with our hearts filled with lingering joy, not dread.”

No disagreements were voiced, and the meeting was adjourned. Growler and I left with Master Thistle to join those Halla from Cherry Blossom Vale. Winding our way through the camp, I noticed a slight divide between those halla from the vales and those of the wandering herds. Nothing animus, but while the halla of the Vales sang and feasted with carefree hearts, there was a weight to the revellers among the wanderers. 

Muttered whispers of envy reached my ears from the wanderers, words of loss and self-recrimination, asking why they’d ignored the Queen’s warning. 

I was further surprised to see not a single Eagle among their number. Later I would learn that they, and any who stood with them, had been banished from the herds for ignoring the warnings and allowing the curse to reap such a terrible toll. Those halla joined with the herds that refused to see sense and held to their hatred and fear.

With the Cherries, as they’d started to be known by the other herds and vales, we found Sylph and our make-shift herd from Gur Moloch. The Ironbarks were not too far away, and, around a series of great bonfires, we celebrated the halla version of the Summer Sun Festival with singing, dancing, contests, and mead.

Leaning against Growler, I was filled with a warmth that could rarely be matched. My laughter was free for the first time in months and all the dread of the journey since leaving Cherry Blossom Vale melted away. It seemed like all would be right, that the greatest trials were behind us, and we’d survived. 

We were not unscarred, of course. But they didn’t weigh on us.

Spaces had been cleared for wrestling, with many taking the opportunity to show off for pretty young hinds or settle old scores with rivals. The sharp crack of antlers striking was mixed with bugling and the cheers for the victors. After a while, the wrestling began to die down as the feasts appeared and the mead flowed freely. From where it came, I can not say. Some secret of the Badger brew-masters, no doubt.

So, the feast progressed, and Sylph sang until her throat grew raw and she had to sit down. 

Into a lull stepped Sombra.

Growler was speaking to a runner from another herd, attending to some matter or other, while Sylph had joined the Triplets, a happy buzz of chatter circling them. His eye lingered on Sylph a few moments, then in a gruff tone said, “There are some matters we must discuss, in private.”

Curious, and a little fuzzy in my thoughts from all the mead I’d consumed, I just nodded and followed along. Sombra took me to a quiet spot a short distance from the Cherries, between some tents where we could have some relative privacy. 

“Moondream has a question she wishes me to ask you.” Sombra paused, waiting for me to turn my full attention to him. “She asks; What is best in life?”

“Huh? You took me over here for that silly question? It’s…” My voice drained away as a sufficient answer failed to present itself.

Sombra had anticipated my faltering and nodded towards where Growler and the others sat, laughing at some joke one of them had made. I felt a surge of pride seeing the respect granted to him by all that passed, every Halla stopping to bow their heads to the Grand Bear.

A position elected by deed and necessity alone, Growler had earned the title when he’d emerged from Gamla Uppsala carrying the Queen’s sheers. Every master among Bear Lodge, all far older, deferred to him. I was so proud watching him deal with issue after issue, often with a frustrated roll of his beautiful brown eye.  

“I think… this is what’s best in life,” I said, indicating with a hoof the entire camp. “To spend a perfect night with those you love and respect. To sing and dance and to know neither fear nor worry.”

“A fair answer.” From the look on his face, I could tell he didn’t think much of it, one way or the other. He was a stallion on a mission, and it wouldn’t have mattered what I’d told him. “I would have once answered that the best thing in life was to crush the enemies of ponykind. To drive them from our lands and in so doing, shower prestige, wealth, and power onto my House. 

“Later, I would have said that it was to take from those who were unworthy. To make their power your own, and in so doing, gain the strength to reshape my Fate. An idiotic notion whispered into my ear by… Well, the who is not important. I went down the same dark road you’ve been wandering, Velvet Sparkle. I cavorted with Demons, gleefully. The Marquis of Fate, he twisted my pride and envy, and though I could have turned my back on his lies and returned to Sol’s light and Selene’s grace, I did not.” Sombra took a deep breath, and glanced down at the crystal in his chest. “Do not repeat my mistakes. Waking Iridia may save your daughter. She may spare the Halla. But many in the north will die as she consolidates her hold. Then all of pony kind will suffer.”

“That is not my problem,” I snarled in reply, my hackles raised along with my voice. “The Queen must be freed, and I will command or bargain with any being necessary to save my daughter.” I tapped the side of my head. “These runes I thought a curse, they are a blessing. So yes, if I must make a bargain with Leviathan herself to save my daughter, I would. Thankfully, I do not.”     

“Be wary of the bargains that you make, Velvet Sparkle.” Sombra gave me a long, piercing stare. “Especially those made with demons.”

I made a noncommittal grunt, my ears pressed back. “What about the Archons?”

Sombra threw back his head as he let out a long peel of laughter. “Them? They care not a whit what happens outside Elysium. Only a fool or the truly desperate would seek to deal with that lot. Next you’ll say you’d command Abaddon to fight for you! Ha-ha!” 

“Maybe—” 

—Stop squirming, Tyr, I’m almost done with this portion, then we can discuss things.— 

“Maybe I could! I am supposed to be The Sorceress, after-all.”

“That,” Sombra waggled a threatening hoof in front of my nose, “is a title no sane pony who understood the meanings would ever seek to claim. No good has ever been wrought by a sorceress. The sorceresses of Marelantis are the direct cause of so much evil on Ioka. 

“I do not know why, but Moondream has faith in you. She says she knows you will do what is right.” He rose to his hooves, a little unsteady and began to stagger towards his tent, muttering to himself all the while. “We are nearly there,” he grunted as he pushed open the flap. “Almost finished, Moondream. Then everything will be made as it should have been.”







Crawling out from her bundle of covers, much like a fox exiting her warren in spring, Tyr fixed Velvet with a fierce stare. “Where? How did you hear those names?” She leaned closer to Velvet, fire flashing in her eyes. 

“I told you, I’m the Sorceress. I know many names I shouldn’t.”  

“Well… Maybe… But those are names mortals shouldn’t know. At all.” Tyr gave her head a vigorous shake, her little hooves playing with the hem of her covers. She bit her lower lip and looked away. Velvet was about to return to her story, when Tyr blurted out, “Are there really demons on Ioka? Not just part of your story, but really here?”

Taken aback by the raw need in the question for Velvet to deny, to say that it was all part of her story, it took a moment for an answer to form. 

“Not since the Age of Chaos. The last Lord of Tartarus was—”

“Lord of Tartarus?” Tyr snorted and rolled her eyes. “Tartarus is their prison. Uncle… Um…” A deep breath was followed by a rattling sigh. “Tartarus is the domain of my… uh… Great Uncle?” Tyr scrunched up her face, and her hooves moved as if she were counting. “No, Uncle. But not. It’s really complicated with him. He rules Tartarus and serves as it’s King and Warden, keeping the really nasty things contained.”

“And does this uncle have a name?” Velvet prodded.

“Yes, but I don’t want to say it. His isn’t a name you should say, like… those others you mentioned.” Bringing a hoof to her muzzle and leaning forward, Tyr added in a whisper, “They can hear you when you say their names. Just like Alicorns.”

Velvet puffed out her chest a little. “Well, let them listen. They will know I’m not afraid of them, then.”

“You… really aren’t afraid, are you?” Tyr brow pinched together in confusion as she searched Velvet’s face. “Why?”

“Think back to when I mentioned the Black Runes and Algol, the Demon Star, and Shining’s reaction. Demons are mentioned often in the Holy Books, yes, but there hasn’t been a sighting in centuries. I’ve never encountered a demon.”

“I have. Well, a daemon, which is just a demon that’s switched allegiance to an alicorn. A Slaughter Daemon… it captured me the night I lost my old family. It…” Tyr began to tremble, her voice strained and her gaze dropping to her hooves. Velvet reached over to give the filly a hug. Tense, Tyr ducked away from Velvet. “My guardians…  it killed them. Crushed them under its hooves. I sometimes still hear their bodies popping. It was carrying me along a hallway and through a window I saw two alicorns locked in battle crash in the distance. There was a wave of light from where they landed, and then I was waking up in that field in the forest. I thought at first that Artemis had rescued me somehow and carried me to safety… But it wasn’t her. Just some pegasus. And now I am here.”

Velvet was silent as Tyr bared her heart. Curious, Velvet concentrated on the magic binding Tyr again, to see how it was reacting. The sight took her breath away. The spell was at war with itself, flares bursting along the golden strands in red-hot sparks. In places the corrupt portions shrank away as something deeper within fought back, while in others it seemed to gain a greater hold.           

“What are you doing?” Tyr asked, followed by a long series of racking coughs. 

Hoof moving in slow motions along Tyr’s back, with care taken to avoid the scars where her wings had once been, Velvet hushed Tyr. Mouth starting to open to repeat the question, Tyr’s stopped, eyes half lidded, a noise similar to a cat’s purr rumbling in her throat. 

“Ooo, that is good.” Tyr melted into her sheets, and soon she was fast asleep. 

Velvet sat with Tyr a while longer, until Shining arrived to take her place. During her vigil Velvet watched the strands continue to fight. By the time she left, Velvet was certain that, little by little, the spell was falling to a corruption. 

Clouds still heavy in the sky, Velvet retreated to her study, and there she pulled out a box hidden in her desk by means magical and mundane. 

It was a plain looking box of pine bereft of ornamentation. Many would have considered it blasphemous that such a simple thing, kept in a warded nook, should hold something of such importance. For inside sat the Dreamer’s Crystal on a folded scrap of cloth. The crystal was cracked deep, its once rainbow hues now grey and palid.

Yet, power remained. A lingering trace that crackled across Velvet’s tongue like licorice tarts. It wasn’t much, just a mere memory imprinted in the crystal itself, residue left from when the crystal was damaged.  

Velvet took the crystal from its box and placed it on the desktop.

“What would you have done, old dragon?” she asked the crystal. “Would you have attempted to undue Celestia’s flawed work? Or would you have accepted Tyr’s fate?” A long sigh rattled between her teeth as she pondered the dead crystal. “How I wish I had listened to your advice. I was brash, young, and so foolish. I miss you. I miss all of you.”

A knock on her door made Velvet jump, her hooves scrambling to hide the Dreamer’s Crystal before she called out, “Enter.”

Mr. Cane poked his head into the room, a worried pinch at the corner of his mouth. He stood there for a few moments, his wing ruffled as he snapped his tail back and forth. 

“My Lady, Princess Luna’s chariot has been spotted approaching from the west.”

Velvet sat up straighter at once, much like a filly that had been caught day-dreaming in class. With precise, practiced motions, the crystal was put away, the wards replaced and the panel hidden. With only a few moments spared to brush her mane, Velvet almost ran down the stairs and out onto the entrance landing. She was just in time to watch the midnight blue and silver chariot wheel around the manor in a long, lazy descent, one no-doubt intended to allow the manor time to prepare.

There was a moment of panic as she noticed that she stood alone, her family and staff no where to be seen. It was as the chariot lined up with the paved lane that they all rushed out, hurried along by Glitterdust and Mrs. Hardtack.

Dust was kicked up as the chariot came in for a smooth landing, Luna hardly jostled on her seat as it rolled stop at the base of the steps. The entire household bowed together while Luna skipped down, head held in a high, officious angle. 

With a wave of her hoof, Luna bid them to rise. There was a happy glimmer in her eyes as she addressed Velvet. “Baroness Sparkledale, it is a pleasure. My apologies for arriving unannounced, but I was overcome with the desire to spend some more time with my family. Where is Cadence? I don’t sense her presence.” 

She twisted to peer along either side of the manor as if expecting Cadence to round the corners at any moment. A ruse Velvet saw through at once, and whose purpose she couldn’t discern. 

 “Your Royal Highness, Princess Cadence left last night to speak with an acquaintance of hers. We don’t expect her back for a day or two, at least, ma’am.” 

Velvet kept her head held down at a respectful angle as she spoke. While Luna had softened in the years since her redemption, she still stood the most on protocol. Especially from the nobility.

Trotting past the Sparkles and the manor’s staff, Luna bidded Velvet to join her with a wave of her wing. Despite never having been in the manor before, Luna navigated it with ease, her course set straight for a Tyr’s room.

“I noticed that Tyr was not present just now.” Luna’s tone was firm, but cold, a hint of displeasure tensing the corner of her jaw. She stopped just outside Tyr’s room, and fixed Velvet with a piercing look, one that made the matron step back and gulp. “I have been informed somewhat of her condition, but I would like a second account. Spare no detail. Afterwards, I will examine the filly myself and see what mess my sister has created.”

“Perhaps we should go to my study? This could take some time, ma’am.” Velvet indicated the way, and was thankful when, after a hesitant glance towards the door, Luna nodded agreement. “I’ll have tea brought up at once, ma’am. You must be parched after such a long ride.”

“Acai berry, if you have it, and you have my gratitude,” Luna said as she followed Velvet to the Red Salon.

Velvet took a deep breath as they reached her study, and, once the tea arrived, they settled in for a long discussion. Much like Cadence that morning, Velvet spared no detail.  
	

> Part Eleven
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Eleven


The Great Ape Jungle stretched in an almost endless green carpet below Cadence. She was deep into the jungle’s heart, where three rivers converged in a vast expanse of rolling hills that was all but impossible to reach by hoof. Even flying wasn’t without its dangers. Somewhere below, the jungle’s true masters watched her, tracking every movement with bow and bola.

Cadence wasn’t worried about the hidden eyes, not with Penumbra resting against her side. Even without her old sword, she wouldn’t have been concerned, as a half dozen phoenixes and a large paradiso had taken to flying around her. Though not a superstitious pony herself, even Cadence took the birds for a good omen.

Juveniles, the phoenixes swooped and darted in acrobatic games while their mother, a truly old hen nearing her next cycle, watched Cadence and the paradiso from high above, gliding on the afternoon thermals. 

The paradiso was a glorious specimen, with flowing tail feathers that danced like an aurora, and a small curved beak of alabaster. A plume on his crest showed him as a young bird, and there was a happiness to his blue eyes that reminded Cadence of Shining. He didn’t stay with Cadence for long, their paths diverging at the hills. Cadence dipped her wings in parting as it turned to the south, and he returned the gesture, his warble trailing her long after he’d disappeared from sight. She took his short company as a blessing, and let it fan the hope that ahead lay the answers she desperately needed. 

Rounding a bend, Cadence had her first view of her destination; the lost city of Phoenicia. 

Ruins, crumbled and choked by the jungle, lay strewn along the banks of the river valley. Few of the structures remained, only the old palace, library, and temple weathered the centuries and encroaching jungle. Here and there sat the city’s old statue guardians, bright paint flaking and broken limbs or missing heads strewn about what had once been wide lanes. Now only beasts called the once glorious city home.

Following the river towards its source led to a waterfall gushing out from the side of a cliff. A few quick flaps raised Cadence above the rim, revealing it to be a plateau wedged between the base of two short mountains. Little streams bubbled down the mountains’ sides towards the plateau’s heart and dropped into a great sinkhole. The jungle just fell away there, as if into a colossal hoofprint, one stretching a league across and a hundred hooflengths deep.  

A slight dip in one wing brought Cadence into a slow, lazy turn above the rim. Along the walls clung Phoenicia in terraces and steep roads that switched back on themselves. Jungle vines and thick foliage obscured much of the city, hanging down in green curtains over the white limestone walls. What was not covered was crafted in such a way as to vanish under all but close scrutiny. 

At that moment, the city appeared deserted, the narrow roads emptied but for a few cats taking the opportunity to sun themselves.   

The basin floor was filled with fields of golden wheat, granaries made to look like giant termite mounds sticking up like lumpy clay towers. The city’s ancient founders had brought the seeds, as well as those for date and olive trees, from their original homes far to the north. Through the fields ran streams like glistening snakes, feeding into a lake of purest blue.

The only obvious building within the entire sinkhole sat on a small island at the exact center of the basin. Scavenged from the old ruins, crenulated white marble columns  held aloft a roof of polished gold, with veins of obsidian forming six glyphs.   

More phoenixes rose from the city, a cloud of oranges and reds whirling around Cadence as she began her approach. Named for the birds, the city had been built amid their ancient nesting grounds. Long before the city’s founding, and continuing on to this day, the phoenixes filled the basin with their songs and pranks, flitting from their nests or bathing at the base of the waterfalls.   

In the northern fields a small structure caught Cadence’s eye. Beneath a curved roof sat a large pony, white coat glistening and ruddy red mane hanging in a plait down one side of her neck. 

Curious, Cadence tipped her wings and swung towards the fields. She landed with a soft thump on a cobbled lane. The air was warm and humid so deep in the bowl, and Cadence took a moment to enjoy the change from the cold, hard air above.   

With the phoenixes still forming an escort of sorts, Cadence trotted down the lane, taking care to avoid the ruts worn over the centuries by wagons trundling along the same precise path. Long before reaching it, Cadence realised it was a shrine. 

A simple roof covered statue with an offering plate at its base, the shrine was used to beseech a blessing on the harvest. Resting on the plate was a sprig of the previous harvest, along with a few gold coins and a true sapphire formed naturally in the wilds.

Cadence paused at the statue. An effigy of her grandmother, the statue wore a broad, painted smile. Its pose was almost unnatural, sitting as it was on folded hindlegs, a staff with six rings attached to a hoop gripped in one hoof and the Book of Names held close with the other. There was a momentary hitch in Cadence’s chest at the lifelike quality. For a brief second, Cadence hoped that the statue would wink at her and laugh, that it was her grandmother in the flesh sitting at the roadside.

She’d never met the mare, of course. Faust had vanished centuries before Cadence’s birth. Faust’s disappearance was the greatest unsolved mystery on the disc. Generations of adventurers, explorers, sages, and knights had dedicated their lives to solving it without fruition.

Of course it wasn’t Faust. Cadence could sense no other alicorn in the vicinity. Where the real Faust Invictus was, she had no idea. Once, when she’d been less than a century old, Cadence had gone looking for her grandmother. Following the thin bond of potential love had lead Cadence far out over the Marelantic Ocean. There’d been no islands or ships, just a vast, heaving ocean beneath deathly still air.  

Offering a silent prayer and one of her feathers to the statue, Cadence moved onward.

While there were no alicorns, there was someone in the city.

Someone ancient and powerful, whose presence set Cadence’s teeth aching.

At the lake’s edge was a short dock, a lonely little boat tethered to the worn planks. Trotting to the edge, she took flight once more, a few strong beats carrying her over the tranquil water. Hooves skipped over the loose stones comprising the shore. A short way from where she’d landed were steps leading up to the temple proper. 

Every moment made the unpleasant sensation grow until Cadence’s wings fluffed and ruffled of their own accord by the time she set hoof on the stone dock. The phoenixes had stopped at the far shore, sitting in the boughs of an old, scraggly tree where they chirped and watched Cadence slowly ascend the steps to the small temple.

She hesitated at the temple’s edge, peering past the tall columns and through the open doors at the shadowy interior. Frescos of Faust covered the walls, one for each of the Elements of Harmony as they’d been known in ancient times; Loyalty, Honour, Compassion, Laughter, and Generosity. In each she was portrayed exemplifying the virtue. Benches were placed before each of the murals for the faithful to use while meditating. 

Short steps lead to a flat dias in the temple’s center. Motes of dust danced in a thin beam of light that illuminated a black and white mound of feathers. 

Beneath their lustrous sheen the feathers hid the disc’s sole archon. Not just any archon, either, but one of the Seraphim. Among the most powerful entities in all creation, striding side-by-side with the likes of Celestia, Discord, and Leviathan. By rights a Queen of Queens, with entire choirs of lesser archons at her command. Why she had yet to leave Ioka puzzled even Celestia. It was not like a seraph to stray from Elysium, let alone remain on the disc.

And, if the gentle stirring of her feathers were any indications, she was about to awaken whether Cadence was prepared or not. Tongue darting out to lick her lips, Cadence glanced over her wings to the city and sky beyond. There was still time to leave and go home. 

Cadence began to take a step back, only to halt.

There was no pony else who’d have the answer she sought. Except perhaps Faust herself. But if Cadence had any inkling of where her grandmother had secluded herself, she’d have gone there first.

A deep breath settled the last of her doubts. Cadence squared her wings, forcing her feathers to settle, and, with Penumbra’s comforting weight along her side, she marched forward.

“Abaddon,” Cadence called, surprising herself with the steel in her voice. 

The feather’s twitched, a seam opening in their length to reveal a single golden eye. “Well, well, this is a surprise. Little swan, why do you disturb my slumber?”

Cadence stood up straight as if she’d been slapped.

“Don’t call me… that,” Cadence spat. 

“You are what you are, and that is a little swan, honking and creating a racket around those trying to rest.” Abaddon made a dismissive shrug of one wing. “I have issues of greater import than you to contemplate.”

“You’ve been wallowing here for thirty years!” Abaddon’s eye widened as Cadence set a hoof on the bottom most step of the dias. “When we met, you described yourself as the ‘Righteous Destroyer’, sent to correct great wrongs.”

“Your point being?”

Cadence advanced another step. “I need to undo a mistake.”

“And you think to demand my assistance? That you can march into my sanctuary and order me, Abaddon, into compliance? What gall you have, little swan. With a wave of my wings I could reduce cities to ash. A stamp of my hooves crack the disc. To look upon me is to look upon the inferno of creation, and you seek to command me?”

The Indignation flowing from Abaddon only served to steel Cadence’s resolve.

“Oh, please, you think I haven’t heard such bluster before?” Cadence rolled her eyes and took to the final step. “My mother was Nightmare Moon. I couldn’t pass the salt without some threat about mountains tumbling or night eternal.”

It took a moment for Abaddon to respond, and when she did it was with a laugh. A happy, joyous laugh that floated like butterflies.

“I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

“Nothing, and everything,” Abaddon choked out between a few, last giggles. “Very well, what is this mistake you seek to correct?”

All at once Cadence’s anger collapsed, broken beneath cleansing relief. So much lighter with its absence, she still had to marshall her resolve, but hope that a solution was within reach was enough to sustain her.

Explaining everything about Tyr’s situation would have taken more time than Cadence was willing to give. Sticking to the pertinent points, Cadence described the decision to Foster Tyr, the subsequent illness, and the discovery of the corruption spreading through the spell.

“‘It is not the mistakes of their lives that define mortals, but whether they seek to overcome and correct those mistakes’,” Abaddon said to herself when Cadence was finished.

A wing lifted, and a curved horn poked out through the fold. Bronze hued magic danced along the spiral grooves until it reached the tip and leapt forth onto the stone at Cadence’s hooves. The magic twisted around itself, etching a rune into the floor. “That is my rune, Abael. With it you can correct your mistake.”

“A single rune won’t heal Tyr,” Cadence said. She stared at the rune nonetheless, searing it into her mind and memory.

“No, it will not.” Abaddon’s wings closed, hiding her eye and horn once more. “Show it to The Sorceress. She will know its use.”

“Thank you.” Cadence gave a little bow before turning to leave. 

As she readied to take flight, Abaddon called after her. “Take care with Abael, brave swan. I do not share her often with good reason.” 

“We will,” Cadence replied before rising up and pulling together a spell to bring her home.    







A gentle clatter of cups echoed within Velvet’s study, the warm scent of spiced teas heavy in the air. 

Velvet had just finished describing the corruption of the magic that bound Tyr. By any measure the spell was more curse than blessing, taking Tyr’s nature and twisting it into something almost unrecognizable. That there were benefits did not negate that.

Quiet as she contemplated the purple dregs in the bottom of her cup, Luna turned over everything she’d heard. 

What Velvet described, the warring between magics of gold and ruby, was not the spell Luna remembered. Unlike Velvet, Luna did not accept for a moment that it was the spell at war with itself. There was an outside influence involved, eating away, corrupting, and turning what should have been a protection into an insidious weapon. 

Luna had encountered similar corruption before, but never to a spell as powerful as Fostering. It shouldn’t have been possible, but not only had Cadence claimed as such, Velvet had seen it as well. Luna was certain that it was also the cause of Celestia’s absence. 

Huffing into her tea, Luna stretched out a cramp in her wing. 

“I am glad I came even more now.” Luna put the empty cup aside.

“You were getting lonely in Canterlot, weren’t you?” The question slipped past Velvet’s teeth before she fully realised she was speaking. 

Luna’s eyes widened, then she let out a little chuckle.

“The castle is very… empty, right now. First Cadence, then Twilight, and now Celestia are all off doing Mother-knows-what. Archons, ships, and off to the disc’s edge. A mare starts to feel left out. At least I’ve been able to occupy myself training Twilight’s new guards. Her Majesty has been some company as well… And now I’ve left her alone… In Canterlot… During the Season no less…”    

With a fwump Luna melted onto her cushion, laying her chin atop her folded hooves. 

“My only consolation is that she’s always out of it this time of year as she tends to the Font and won’t notice my sudden absence.”

The admission caught Velvet like a heavy blow, leaving her sputtering for words. Did she try to comfort Luna? A preposterous idea, one not helped by their relative unfamiliarity with each other. Though their eldest foals were married, Velvet and Luna had never sat down and just talked with each other. 

It wasn’t that there was some wall between them. She felt no compulsion to stay her tongue. Rather, they’d simply never had cause to socialize. Velvet knew Luna less as a pony, or even monarch, and more as an image printed upon the morning post. All that she was certain of was how the Princess would despise being pitied.

Settling on ignoring Luna’s moment of vulnerability, Velvet started to turn to the window, only to have an oddity catch her eye. 

The drawer that sat above the nook hiding the Dreamer’s Crystal was pulled out ever-so-slightly. Not enough to be noticed at once, but enough for Velvet to know that somepony had opened the drawer. 

Breath catching in her throat, she yanked the drawer out to check on the wards and hidden box. There had been an attempt to crack the protective magics, one that hadn’t been able to overcome the far more cunning preparations she’d made to protect her treasure. Unlike the spell she’d used to keep the children out of Tyr’s room, this ward was far, far more nuanced and stable. Not some hap-hazzard mesh tossed together with hardly an after-thought.

Relaxing as she set the box down, Velvet sighed in short lived relief. A polite cough behind her reminded her of her guest.

“Is something the matter?” Luna waved a hoof towards the box.

“Ah, no, I don’t believe so,” was Velvet’s quick reply, her words lacking conviction. “Well, perhaps. I was at my desk when I heard of your approach, and I know how I left the wards. To place them the drawer has to be completely closed.”

“Is the box important?”

Velvet considered if there was a way to explain the box away without admitting what was held within. All the excuses, and there were certainly many, struck Velvet as being far too weak. More-over, she was tired and if there was any pony, mortal or goddess, that would understand, it would be Princess Luna. As she’d done only an hour earlier, Velvet undid the final wards and opened the box. 

A brow arched, Luna glanced within the box and gasped.

“How in Mother’s mane did you get that!?” Luna reached for the stone with a shaking hoof, only to stop and pull it back as if she’d been burned.

Snorting, Velvet passed the cracked crystal to Luna. “It is a rather long story. The short version is ‘from it’s previous owner’s chest’. I assume you know what it is?”

“I was there when it was created,” Luna hissed, a flicker of angry blue flames crackling at the corners of her eyes. “But I thought it lost along with all the others. It’s bigger than I remember… You say it is a long story? Tell me.”

“Ah, I promised not to tell it without Tyr being present, and I think the other foals would mutiny if I excluded them again.”

It was quickly decided that they would gather the rest of the family and go to the library where there was room for everypony.
 
The box was passed back to Velvet, and she almost started to put it away. She stopped and instead brought it with her. 

Collecting Tyr from her room, it was decided to move to the library where there was the space to hold the entire family. With blankets mounded around her so that only her eyes showed, Tyr was situated on a long sofa between Velvet and Luna, with the young Sparkles spread out in a half-circle on the carpet. This was in part to be closer to Velvet, and also because the benches were claimed by the adults. As tea was brought up and served, Velvet brought everypony up to speed.       







August was filled with biting flies that swarmed in clouds as our army reached the most northern frontier of the Taiga. The ground was parched and cracked with Sol bearing down on the land like a burning blight. At night, the hills to the east glowed with fires that consumed the forest, trees bursting in orange lances, the crackling of their sap reaching our ears in an oppressive din. 

No longer were we lead by markers from myth, but by the swath of devastation left in the dogs wake.

I had little time to take in the burning of the forests. Upon leaving Sun Rock, I’d been elected by the twenty-nine Ravens of the army to act as their leader. 

Since our talk, Sombra had grown sullen and withdrawn. He spoke little to me, and never to any of the halla except Sylph. More and more they spent time together separating themselves from the rest of the army when we camped.

It was with mild surprise, therefore, when Sombra approached me as we marched through the final night. 

There was a palpable sense of danger carried on that chilly night, the disc so much colder up north, where the winds of the void first kiss Ioka’s rim. The fires were far behind, our homes even further, and only danger lurked ahead. As Sol set, our pace had picked up, guided by Selene’s light in the dark with the baggage train left behind to slowly catch up.

“Follow me,” was all Sombra said before he took me aside.

He slowed to speak, allowing the army to gradually march past. 

“You should know, the dogs do not seek the Vale to control it, they mean to destroy it, and in so doing severe the disc’s ties to the Font. No more foals. Not for any race that relied on the Font.”

His words carried a dreadful certainty, one that forestalled questioning how he knew that this was the dogs’ goal. 

“Is that even possible? How can the dogs destroy the Vale?” 

“Destroying the Vale would be relatively easy. If it were difficult, would the Vale require a guardian and be hidden so far from the reach of any civilization? It may take more blows, but any axe can fell the tree. I would not want to be present if that were to happen. Ancient magics like the First Tree tend to react poorly to such treatment.” 

“So, what was the point of these then?” I asked, indicating the sheers poking out of my saddlebags. 

“And still she does not listen!” Sombra raised his head to peer up at Selene poking through the clouds. “Only She can touch the Font. Only through Her blessing can a hewn branch be preserved. Iridia Tuilerya. Springbringer. The spear that pierced winter’s frozen heart, only to have her own freeze.”

“We all learn the story of the Betrayal, Sombra.”

I was surprised when he didn’t grow angry at my impertinence, and instead continued to bask in what little of Selene’s glow snuck between the clouds hovering through the bleak night. He took a slow breath that rattled in his throat and then let out a slow, mirthless chuckle. 

“Fifteen hundred years I’ve been re-assembling the shattered fragments of the Dreamer’s Stone, and rarely have I known a pony so talented to be so ignorant of the catastrophe toward which they march, save, perhaps, myself.” He darted a glance to the necklace hanging around my neck. “Nevermatter, Moondream. We near the end of our travels. It will not be long until you are whole.”

Reaching up to touch the cold stone I asked, “If this held one, then where is the other?”

Sombra at last turned to face me.

“Out of reach.” He sighed and stretched, taking slow, measured steps away. “I will miss these talks, Sorceress.” Sombra stopped, his red eyes piercing me with an intensity that seemed to peel away the layers of my soul. “You will be presented with a choice, and it is not whether to accept your title. Faust has shown me that it is your Fate to bear that mantle. She has tasked me with giving you a message, but now is not the time.”

“You claim to speak to Faust? Directly?” I snorted at the ludicrous claim.

“All ponies can hear her song if they would but listen!” He gave me a final, disgruntled glower before trudging off back along the marching lines.

That was the last time we spoke as friends.

I tried to find him in the morning, to press him about Faust’s message, only to discover that both he and Sylph had vanished. They’d been seen heading to the north-east together at a full gallop.

Ready to chase after them, I was stopped by Growler. He stood before me resolute in his righteousness.

“Out of my way.” I made to step around him, only for Growler to halt me with a few words.

“Think of River. In a few short hours we will reach the Vale and battle will be joined. You have no way of finding either of them, not in the time remaining.”

“I don’t understand why they left… We started this journey together…”

“And we shall finish it together. Together we—”

The rest of Growler’s comfort was lost, subsumed beneath a tremendous roar echoing across the trees. A shadow followed with a slow, steady thump as great swaths of burnt forest were stirred into billowing plumes of ash and smoke. Glancing up I saw her through a gap in the branches, an ancient wyrm graceful and frightening. Her green scales black as pitch in the pre-dawn light and her eyes two dull orange stars buried in her massive head.  

“The guardian,” Growler and I said together. 

Wings tucked to her side, she fell from the night like a piece of Sol, flames crackling around her teeth. Though we were still some miles away, every halla felt the disc shake as she landed and saw the brilliant plumes of fire in the distance.

“Hurry now, hurry!” Growler shouted to all within earshot. “We must not tarry!”       

A vital surge flowed through our ranks. 

On and on we rushed, nursing our reserves for the battle ahead. A battle we could make out more and more through thinning trees and fading fog.

Growler and I were the first to break the edge of the forest and look down on the great host of the Diamond Dogs. 

Underneath Moloch’s banner, eighty thousand diamond dogs marched in a writhing carpet. Warbeasts hauled great siege engines, catapults and ballistae rumbling across the permafrost. Over this army presided King Selim from atop a short hillock, barely more than a mound of hard packed earth, but enough to give him a sweeping view of the numerous conscripts being herded towards their doom. 

In the distance, the Vale’s guardian fought. The lances buried deep into her belly and throat only seemed to spur her anger. Billowy ribbons of fire poured from her mouth at the hordes surrounding her. A single lash of her tail enough to shatter dozens. But it would not be enough to hold the dogs at bay. Between her scales, barbed hooks caught her flesh with thick chains anchoring her to great stone blocks, holding her fast to the disc, and her wings hung in tattered ribbons. 

She was dying.







“The Diamond Dogs killed a dragon?” Adamant was vibrating on his chair, leaning as close to his mother as he could. He paid no attention to Spike beside him, the drake’s claws twisted together and tail curled around his knees. “I bet they went for the fire-sacks. A sharp jab and twist and they’d pop, leaking into the—”

“Adamant, that’s enough!” 

The harsh bark came from Glitterdust, all the others jumping at the force of her command. She bore down on the little colt with all the stern reprobation she could bring to bear. After years as a tailor and stage director within Manehatten’s theatre scene, dealing with pretentious prima donnas and newcomers trembling with stage fright, it was a considerable glare indeed. Perhaps greater than Velvet’s own, more so as it was even rarer.

“I’m sorry, mother,” Adamant mumbled, his drooped ears doing little to dissipate the excitement boiling off him.   

After a few sniggers, Melody asked, “What happened next, mama? Please tell us.”

Adamant at once regained his bounce, a renewed grin plastered on his muzzle. “I wish I could see it!” He clapped his hooves once and jumped off his cushion, striking a pose. “You and Lord Growler standing at the head of an army, your mortal foes waiting before you down below. I bet you charged down and saved the day!”

A very slight frown tugged at the corner’s of Velvet’s mouth. 

She could not deny that the battle had begun much as Adamant hoped. Growler understood the pageantry of the moment, and how to steal the hearts of his army. Her frown almost melted as she recalled the image of him addressing the halla that morning.

What followed the speech most certainly was not glory and heroics. Unaware of the motion, Velvet began to rub her left cannon, her brow knitting at half-forgotten pain. A faint scar, one of hundreds hidden beneath Velvet’s fur, was all that remained from where a spear had pierced her. 

Her breaths grew short, hooves tight on the edge of the couch. Muscles tensed through her jaw as she fought back against the smells flooding up through memories of that old battlefield. The sweat and muck mingled with metallic scents and the drifting clouds of burning tar. 

“Mother? Are you alright?” 

The memories snapped like a branch bent too far, and Velvet returned to library with a start to find Shining at her side. His hoof hovered just above her withers, and in his eyes was a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry.” She shuddered, shedding the last remnants of the memory. “It’s been…” 

Velvet took a deep breath, held it, and saw everypony watching her in worried expectation, except for Luna, Pennant, and Shining. They knew what Velvet had been through. For the others, the closest had been the changeling invasion, and that had been over very quickly, with their experience being prisoners held within the throneroom.

The eagerness in Adamant’s eyes was still bright, not replaced by confusion or worry as with his sisters. It was a look that drove a dagger of worry into Velvet’s gut, twisted by recollections of their dinner with the Revered Speaker. 

All of the lies infecting her story became bitter in Velvet’s mouth. She was responsible for that look in Adamant’s eye, with her twisting of facts into fantasy. Having the foals look at her with wonder had become her goal, rather than telling the truth and seeing nothing but contempt reflected within their eyes..

“Iridia, ek heimr drottning,” Velvet growled to herself. At the raised brow’s from her family, she explained, “‘I am queen of fools.” 

Sitting up straighter, Velvet looked at each pony present in turn as she said, “I am sorry. I’ve done you, and a lost friend, a disservice. It’s time to make it right.”

There was a spell to correct her mistake. It hovered at the back of her mind along with so many others unused for decades. Not because it contained any of the vile Dark Runes, but because it was a powerful spell that required a great deal of energy. On her own Velvet could only maintain it for a minute, maybe two. That would hardly be time for the speech and charge. 

Shifting as she attempted to formulate a plan, Velvet bumped into the box containing the Dreamer’s Crystal, and the answer became clear. 

“Well, you can tell us the truth now, can’t you?” Limelight asked, receiving nods from Glitterdust and Elegant.

“‘Share our legend’,” Velvet whispered to herself before putting on a smile. “I will do better than tell you, I will show you. This will be the truth. There will be… differences, from what I’ve told you.”

Luna clicked her tongue. “You intend to use a divination?” 

Velvet gave a slight nod in reply. 

“Divination?” The children shared confused glances, then leaned forward in expectation.

Withdrawing the Dreamer’s Crystal, Velvet set it down on the floor before the children.

“What’s that?” Elegant reached out a hoof to tap the crystal, a stern cough from Whisper making her stop. 

There was curiosity reflected in the faces of all present, but none so much as Star. Eyes like saucers and mouth agape, she leaned towards it like a flower towards the sun. 

“So much power… but sleeping…” Star let out a little purr, closing her eyes with a smile. “Can you feel it?”

“Nope,” Melody and Elegant said together with a shake of their heads, with Adamant adding a negative of his own. 

“I can,” Limelight hissed, grinding her teeth and leaning away from the crystal. “It’s like biting into wool.”

Shining lifted a brow. “I’m sensing something else… More creamy…”

And so it went around the room, with such things as perfume, woodsmoke, and rain soaking through fur being noted.

“It… sings… I can hear her singing. She needs me. She needs justice, and vengeance, and…” Tyr tried to squirm free of her fluffy blanket-prison. She was prevented by Luna, the princess picking up the bundle and filly to move them to her side. 

With a wing draped over Tyr, Luna gave a slight shake of her head. “What you hear is an echo, nothing more.” She gave Velvet a stern glare. “Why you would show them that… abomination, I can not fathom. It should be disposed of for good. Cast to the abyss beyond the disc or sunk into the deepest ocean, if it can not be crushed into dust.”

“That will be for Twilight to decide with Iridia, as I plan to give it to her when she returns.” Velvet answered Luna’s glare with her smile, one that could not be broken down.  

“Why can’t we sense it?” The twins moaned and huffed. 

“Probably because you’re young and haven’t started to come into your magic yet.” Velvet gave the pair a sympathetic sigh. “That, children, is the remains of a truly terrible artifact. One I’ve kept secret and safe for a long, long time. Of it’s many original qualities, one of the few it retains is its ability to focus and amplify magic.”

Closing her eyes, Velvet concentrated on the memory of that long ago day, holding it close to her as she pulled together a series of runes, Chaotic, Bright, and a single Dark. She cracked an eye open to watch the children’s faces, taking the sliver of joy and love that it brought to her tired heart, and driving the emotions into the Dark Rune. 

Her horn blazed, and wisps of blue-white aether poured forth. Striking the crystal they burst upwards, spinning tight and coalescing into a twisted nexus of sparks that slowly flattened into a silver disc. Atop the disc hovered a thin layer of wispy smoke broken by dark clumps. 

An unfelt breeze whisked away the top layer of smoke, revealing the clumps to be the boughs of short, frost covered trees. Figures wandered through the trees, winding their way up a stubby hill, the crunch of their hooves on loose earth filling the room. They stopped at the top of the hill, just before the trees ended and a long, rolling plain of short grass and prickly shrubs began.    

From the host stepped Growler. 

His mail barding jangled as he trotted several lengths from the treeline, with a peytral covered in swirling leaf and animal motifs and bear-helm on his brow. He was just as Velvet had described, tall and broad, exuding confidence that bordered on arrogance. A slight frown played at his lips, and then pulled back into a hopeful grin.

“Woof! He’s strapped,” Limelight let a playful growl roll in the back of her throat. “I wouldn’t mind him… uh…” 

Blushing, Limelight ducked her head down behind her hooves as she received a few warning glances. Limelight’s outburst wasn’t noticed by the children, all of them far more intent on images within the disc.    

“Mother?” Melody pressed her ears back and whimpered. “What’s going on? What is this spell?”

The image within the disc halted as Velvet turned her attention away from sustaining her magic. A ripple within the disc’s surface made her refocus, lips pressed tight as she fought to prevent the spell from fizzling. 

“This is a very old, and powerful, form of scrying,” Luna supplied, taking care to keep her voice soft so as not to further disturb Velvet’s concentration. “What you are seeing is the past, as through a window. Give your matron a moment to stabilize the weave.” 

Almost panting as she fought to contain the straining magic, Velvet gave a last push, and with a tone like a stone falling into a well, the disc took on greater clarity. From it’s depth rose not just the sound of the wind blasting across the tundra, but the smell of pine, unwashed fur, and oiled armour.

“It should be fine now,” Velvet gasped, taking a long, laboured breath, a slight glow around her horn from the now small amount of magic needed to maintain the disc.

“I can’t believe it… That’s a Seer’s Window... ” Star ducked down to peer at the underside. 

“Does it matter what it is other than it’s pretty?” The twins cooed. 

“Of course it matters!” Star gave an exaggerated huff and threw up her hooves. “That is very, very forbidden magic! Old, lost magic! Mother might be the only pony alive who knows it! This is amazing!”

“Is this true?” Glitterdust was wary of the disc, edging away from it and using her hoof to pull Adamant and Spike with her. “I’m not so sure about this, love.”

“No, if Vel is intent on us learning the past, as it was, this is one of the few methods that will work. With a Seer’s Window there is no distortion but what we ourselves provide.” This came from Whisper. A keen light of fascination amplified by the spells glow danced across her green eyes as she abandoned her spot in the corner and joined the fillies next to the disc itself. “When this is done, you have to teach me this spell. Why, with it my work could be completed! Or, at least cast it for me. Yes, that would be better. Even you need a focus…” Whisper’s words trailed off into muttered observations and ideas, and soon she was lost into her own thoughts and the spell forgotten.

Clearing her throat, Velvet put Whisper’s request aside until her wife would be in a state capable of discussing it. Probably over rice cakes and jam tarts in a week or so. Velvet would not have been surprised if Whisper began pulling text from the shelves to begin the next phase of her studies that very moment. 

Focusing on the more important task at hoof, Velvet gave each and every pony present a warning glare. 

“A few words of caution before the spell resumes. What you’ll see is, without a doubt, the worst period of my life. I was not a good pony on this day, or for many before. Finally, I am sorry…”      







Growler stood alone, in front of a bitter forest, his breath misting in the chilly dawn. He raised his head high, a hard, determined countenance burning within his brown eye. Conviction rode on his back as Halla emerged out of a low hanging fog behind him, first a few, then many scores. Spears jangled in holsters on the hinds right sides, while shields dangled on their left. Little flags sewn onto the spear shafts marked them as the lodgeless or members of less martial lodges. By far they were the greatest in number, only a few of the halla true warriors.

Though few among the Bears carried spear or shield, there was no doubt that their sole purpose was one of battle. None showed the least sign of nervous anticipation. Lacking any sort of uniformity, each Bear’s armour was unique, as were their weapons. Most wore bladed caps on their antlers, others heavy peytrals and greaves. Masterwork barding held small totems, animal pelts, or was embossed in archaic designs passed down through the ages.

The mere presence of the warriors was enough to bolster the spirits of the other halla, little nods and smiles given to them as they passed and gathered in a quartet of clusters. Only a short distance separated the Bears from Growler.  

Forming a line at the hill’s crest, the army stared past their lord and onto a great host on a barren plain of tundra below the towering walls of the great arctic glacier, that field of ice that stretched across the northern rim of the disc. A river of bright teal water broken by white frothing rapid here and there raced across the plain before vanishing beneath the ice. 

Along the river’s banks sat a few trebuchets. A couple already hurled stones covered in burning pitch while the others were assembled by crews driven to a frenzy. Forty thousand strong, the dogs were like a rug across the tundra, formed in ordered columns beneath the banners of five kings gently fluttering in the breeze. Never before had such a army been gathered by the Diamond Dogs. 

At the glacier's base, before a door of shining pink crystal, stood the guardian dragon. Her movements sluggish and tired as she attempted to hold back the teeming throng of longspears that surrounded her. The Diamond Dogs were like ants swarming over the dragon, all turned to a single purpose. Each impact of the trebuchet stones sent shards of ice hailing down upon the dragon’s back and peppered her tattered wings. Even should she survive, never would she fly again.  

Growler let out a harsh bark, calling for his generals. Three came forth, each a hero in their own right, to stand just a short ways ahead of the rest of the host, their armour, heavy fur cloaks, and bear shaped helms proclaiming them as Masters among the Bears. With them, stopping a little to the side, came a much younger Velvet. 

She was nothing like the matron of House Sparkle Velvet was destined to become. Her eyes were sunken and hollow, shot through with green veins that pulsed in a slow, hungry thrum. All the Sparkles had seen Velvet angry before, Shining and Pennant more than the others, but none had witnessed her with murderous intent. There wasn’t a trace of fire or passion as Velvet gazed upon the dogs, just the promise of suffering.

It was to her Growler spoke first.

“My love—” 

“I know what must be done, my love,” she said, her tone cold, calculating, and hissing through the corner of her mouth as if from a ghost. Velvet tried to smile, but it was wrong, like she’d only ever seen one in a faded painting.

Growler leaned down to kiss her at the base of her horn, and whispered. “Use Algol’s curse only if you must. Promise me this, I beg of you.”

The smile cracked at the edges as Velvet sneered. “I will do what is necessary to free the Queen and save our daughter. No price is too high. All I demand is you give the same. Not just for our daughter, but all the foals, fawns, and little ones unborn.”

A final, apprehensive kiss and Growler moved away, his steps gaining renewed purpose as he approached the generals.

“Mountain, you and the Ironbarks have the right flank and are to be our shield. Thistle, you follow my lead into the center. We must reach the guardian and insure no dogs manage to enter the Vale. Snowflame, once we reach the wall, take your halla left. Drive the dogs into the river where they will drown or freeze. Go now, my friends, and I will see you shortly on banks of the Styx.”

Each nodded in turn, then galloped off to join their companies.

With slow confidence he marched in front of the Halla. When he spoke they leaned closer, all hanging off his every word.

“Look below us, brothers and sisters, look below and see the storm that threatens all the north. See the evil that would steal the laughter of fawns from all the disc. That would have every mother weep! We are all that stands between them and the Font. 

“We Halla, forged of stone and ice. March by my side, brothers and sisters, not to battle, but to our deaths. For gladly I lay down my life so that our sons and daughters may live in peace, safe beneath the Queen’s wings. As spring breaks through the harshest winter, we will break these dogs!”

All the gathered host answered Growler, many rearing to kick the air.

“Sound the horns! Sound the horns! For our Queen! For our fawns!” 

Spinning, Growler kicked off and raced down the hill. 

Ivory horns were answered by the dogs drums and trumpets. The front line of halla lowered their spears or antlers. 
Confusion rippled through the dogs as halla swarmed from the treeline, most of their commanders reacted quickly, barking orders to turn and accept the charge. The tide was against them, ordered lines turning into a chaotic mess as every dog struggled to find their bearings. Almost half the distance had been crossed before a semblance of order was restored, leaving gaping holes that could not be filled until it was too late.  

The dogs hardly had time to set their pikes, the deadly heads forming a shell like the quills of a porcupine. The archers were not so easily disrupted; their crossbows raised and ready, a few even firing without orders, bolts falling far short. There was fear in some of the dogs eyes, and resignation. For most there was only a bloodlust, howls rippling from their throats as the halla drew nearer. In the very center of the army, atop a short hillock, stood the King of the Diamond Dogs, visible to all with his banner and golden armour that shone like a beacon.  

At the drop of the king’s hand, the archers released, a swarm of bolts like venomous wasps flying into the halla. Armour was pierced clean through, dropping many of the halla, their bodies tumbling across the frozen earth. Their fellows charged on, leaping over the dead and wounded alike. The sky herself echoed with the thunder of their hooves and the ground quaked at their approach.

With Velvet at his side, her short legs moving with magical speed, Growler hurdled a shallow ditch, lowered his broken antlers, and together they vanished into the diamond dog host. There followed a tremendous clash as the rest of the halla surged behind their lord into the dogs. The halla did not slow nor falter, many of their kin felled by the dogs set pikes.   

Velvet’s blade hissed like water on a hot skillet as she cleaved through the dogs. It was close, dirty work, filled with an incessant hacking with little room and less time for finesse. For every halla felled, several of the dogs were gored and crushed.

The dogs lines began to cave, and then utterly collapse, their center folding into an unorganised retreat. 

“They run! The dogs run!” Velvet cried in glee, her face smeared and dripping red. Lifting a warhorn to her lips, she drowned out the nearby screams and clamour of steel with a reverberating tripled blast.

Halla rallied around their master, driving deeper into the dogs, their goal, the trebuchets, still hammering at the cracked crystal doors. 

Jumping across a dog missing half his face, Velvet caught her leg in a root. She hardly had time to give a surprised yelp before she was laying splayed out in the muddy field. Her head spun for a dangerous moment as she gathered her legs beneath her.  

A shadow fell across her back moments before a spear descended towards her heart. Instinct saved her, kicking to the side. Instead of piercing her back, the spear found her left foreleg, slicing clean through and sinking into the earth. Only through practice and the rush of battle did Velvet manage to maintain her grip on Lllallawynn. Her sword drove to the hilt, slicing through the dog’s belly and through his spine. 

Grabbing the spears haft with her magic, she pulled it free, tossing it aside as she glanced at the dying dog.

He could not have been more than a pup, small and scrawny with his large grey eyes filled with such terror. A bloody whimper filled his mouth, red rivulettes leaking from the corners of his muzzle. Twice he spasmed, and then was dead. Velvet didn’t spare him another glance as she limped back towards the fight, a feral growl twisting her features.

There were yet many of the filthy beasts between Velvet and her goal.

Before she’d gone more than a few strides, a tremendous boom issued across the battle leaving several seconds of silence in its wake as all present were driven into the mud. Ears ringing, Velvet looked up to the doors in time to see the top half of one come crashing down. The remainder hung there for a moment more, before they too fell to ecstatic howls.   







The Sparkles watched with unbridled horror.

All the children had looked away, even Tyr, their faces buried behind hooves or an adult’s side. Ears pressed flat could not keep out the mingled screams and deathly din emanating from the Seer’s Window.

“Velvet, that is quite enough!” Glitterdust barked, not for the first time since the battle began. “I don’t know what this is supposed to accomplish.”

A wave of her hoof stilled the window, Velvet returning Glitterdust’s disgust with anger of her own. “It is meant to show them the truth!” 

“Truth? All I see is you traumatising our foals.” Anger fairly rolled off Glitterdust as she gathered up the youngest Sparkles. “Star, come with me. I don’t want you exposed to anymore of… this.” 

“No, I’m good.” Star’s voice was quiet, far more enraptured with the how than the what. “If mother is okay with me staying.” 

An exasperated groan rattling in her throat, Glitterdust turned to find help. “Whisper, I could use your support.”

Jumping as if she’d just had a dragon land in front of her, Whisper gave her head a vigorous shake. “I think if she’s old enough to go to Celestia’s school, she’s old enough to chose what she wants to see and learn. You’re letting the Season get to you again, Glitterdust. You should take some Foalsbane tea, love. Besides, Twilight wasn’t much older when she faced down the Nightmare.”

Luna shifted on her cushion and looked away. 

Tail slashing back and forth, Glitterdust glared at her wives and snapped, “Fine. Everypony and drake who doesn’t have a cutie mark; out!” There were a couple muttered protests, all of which were silenced by a sharp, “Now.”

Not all the foals began to leave at once, Tyr remaining tucked beneath Luna’s wing, a pensive hoof tapping the edge of the sofa. 

“Shining?” 

“Yes?” Shining jumped, his head snapping up from his own contemplations. He followed the sharp inclination of Glitterdust’s head to Tyr. “Oh? Oh. Oh!” 

Putting on his best stern expression, the one he reserved for troop inspections, Shining started to tell Tyr to go with the other foals. The words had barely started to form when Tyr thumped down a hoof.

“No! This is my story. The good and the bad.” She puffed up her cheeks. “I’m not afraid.”

Shining’s expression began to melt at once. “Nopony is saying you’re afraid, just that maybe this isn’t the best, uh, medium for a filly? A story is one thing… This is… a bit much.”

“Please,” Tyr said, rolling her eyes before jabbing a hoof toward the mirror. “I’ve lived through that.” 

“Which is why showing it to you isn’t the best idea.” Shining rose from his cushion. “Besides, its about time for your medicine and you should get some rest.”

An exasperated huff rolled through Tyr. “It’s not right. Grandmother Velvet promised she wouldn’t tell the story without me anymore.”

“Maybe we should end the story here,” Velvet suggested, only to be drowned out by a chorus of dissent.

Even Glitterdust gave a sharp note of disapproval. “I don’t think you need to stop it entirely, love. But this,” she nodded to the mirror, “is going too far. Now, come children.” Glitterdust turned to lead the way out of the library, only to be stopped as Mrs. Hardtack stepped into the doorway.

Her tail lashed back and forth, and there was a slight pinch to the old steward’s brow. The unease of Mrs. Hardtack’s appearance was amplified by what she carried in her teeth; a note sealed in official green wax. 

Slowly Velvet rose and crossed the room

“Thank you, Mrs. Hardtack,” Velvet said as she took the note. Residual magic in the parchment tingled against Velvet’s aura, indicating it was a fire-letter sent through the system of magical candles. “That will be all.”

Mrs. Hardtack nodded before withdrawing.

Examining the seal before breaking it open, Velvet noted the return address; The Manehatten City Hall. She had few dealings with the council and couldn’t imagine why they’d be sending her a letter, much less via curulícum.

Rather than dwell on possibilities, Velvet snapped the letter open, reading it aloud to the family.

Almost at once she regretted the decision. 

“To Her Ladyship, Velvet Theodora Sparkle, Baroness of Sparkledale, it is with great regret that I write to inform you that on the night of April 20th your sister, Lady Sateen Margaret Sparkle, passed away…” 

Velvet’s mouth grew too dry to speak. The room spun, and she almost fell, and would have if not for a large, dark form appearing at Velvet’s side to provide support. Helped to a cushion, it took Velvet some minutes to regain her senses. It were as if she were floating, watching another pony and not herself. An experience she’d had several times over the years, most often while fighting.

“I’m better now,” she said, giving the pony that had helped her a weak smile, and finding herself leaning against Princess Luna. 

“Do you wish…” Luna trailed off as Velvet gave a quick, stern shake of her head and reached once more for the note.

“No. I… No.” Velvet shook her head again and swallowed a lump in her throat before returning to the note. “Passed away, along with her husband, second wife, foals, and maid when a fire broke out in their home.”

A crisp crackle rang from the paper as Velvet snapped the letter shut. Twice more she worked her jaw and swallowed a rising tide of emotion. Time later for private tears, she told herself. Strength, she needed to project strength for her family. The seconds ticked past, everypony present watching Velvet or seeking solace in their neighbor.  

“Comet, dear, we must discuss matters,” Velvet finally managed to say. 

“Of course, darling,” he responded at once as if he’d anticipated the not-quite a request. 

The dreadful note was passed to Whisper, who looked at it as though it were the blasphemous scribblings of a madmare, while Velvet and Comet stormed from the room. 


> Part Twelve
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Twelve



Life’s first uncertain breaths began to filter through the manor long before Selene had set and been replaced by her fiery sister. Servants pulled themselves from their beds, brushed their coats and manes, stallions putting on their best vests and mares their white frock aprons and caps.  

The manor, so quiet moments before, slowly built in warmth from the relit fires and the hushed giggles of the maids as they moved from room to room. 

Luna had just set Selene when the maids came through to put fresh logs on the library’s fire. She responded with a slight nod to each maid as they gave their curtsies, and tracked them from the corner of her eye. They stared at her and then the Seer’s Mirror for a few moments before hurrying about their duties. Even then Luna noted constant little looks towards herself or the artifact. One maid dropped several logs she was so distracted, and when Luna offered to help her, she hastily tossed them in the firewood rack before dashing from the room.   

The silvery disc and crystal sat just to Luna’s right, its surface unmoving since Velvet had left. Shattered fragments of the pink crystal doors hung in the air while young Velvet looked on in a combination of dread and shock. Mouth twisted with surprise and corrupted eyes wide, Velvet stood frozen in a half spin, her white cloak with it’s collar of black feathers billowing like the wings of a pegasus readying to take flight. 

Luna frowned at the pony within the mirror. 

Based on the eyes she was beyond the tipping point of losing herself. In all her years, Luna had never seen a pony able to resist the allure of the Dark runes once they’d gained such a hold. Soulless, terrible abominations, Luna had hunted a number of wizards seduced by the promises of easy power. 

The Third Reformation had been a blessing in that regard. After Discord’s original defeat all the disc had come together and in a single voice rejected the vile runes. Luna herself retained only a bare dozen, gleaned during her time as Nightmare Moon, and only then at Celestia’s insistence.

Yet, Velvet had managed to step back from that precipice. With the help of the geas, yes. But a geas was not infallible, and the Dark Runes were insidious. Though not self-aware, not like some of the more powerful artifacts or enchantments, dark runes hovered in a particular space within the mind. They were drawn to combine with other runes like iron filings to a lode stones, especially in the moment when a unicorn began to call on her magic. Luna used to image the runes were suggesting spells, or creating new ones. But it was all just a trick. The more powerful the unicorn, the more the runes combined even when not actively being summoned. 

For this reason Luna kept hers segmented and locked away, a precaution Star Swirl himself had discovered. 

The geas must have done something similar for Velvet.   

Rolling onto her side, Luna propped her chin on a hoof.

Truthfully, Velvet’s redemption was only a small curiosity. 

Within the mirror sat the possibility of answers to questions that burned deep within Luna. If it truly was Sombra in Velvet’s story, and he was at the battle… 

No, it couldn’t have been Sombra. The real Sombra died, consumed like so many others by Namyra’s darker aspects. He’d taken her Pride. Bearing the concentrated essence of such energy would have destroyed anypony. The Sombra that Luna had known had to be nothing but bones and dust for over a thousand years. 

Then again, if anypony could have overcome Death, it was Sombra.

A long sigh rattling from her throat, Luna turned away from the mirror.

The mirror itself was confusing. One of Star Swirl’s many creations during his struggle to perfect temporal magic, it had been hidden like so many other spells during the Third Reformation. Luna was certain Celestia retained copies hidden in the forbidden archives of the Royal Library, along with much of his research. How Velvet had learned the spell was a puzzle.

Access to the archives was strictly controlled. Unlocking the doors required two keys, one of which the head librarian possessed. Only members of the royal family or the Arch-Mage could freely enter.

It was entirely impossible for Velvet to have learned the spell in the archives without Celestia’s consent. 

And, Velvet couldn’t have learned the spell elsewhere.

Unless Sombra had taught it to her. 

Which meant he’d have been the real Sombra, and not some imposter.

And that was impossible as even a kirin couldn’t live for more than a few centuries.

Unless he’d managed to attain Namyra’s immortality after-all.

It was a prospect that filled Luna’s mouth with rancid bile. Her hooves shook at the mere idea of that despoiler not only getting away with the murder of her cousin, but profiting from his crimes to such an extent. Teeth snapped together and in a quick twist Luna brought herself to the mirror. All it would take would be the simplest of touches to make the images it contained spring to life.

Luna was halted, however, by the sound of approaching hooves.

“He won’t be in that mirror for a little while.” Velvet trotted slowly into the library, keeping as much distance between herself and the mirror as possible on her way to the small liquor cabinet tucked next to a window. Tears, fresh and old, matted the fur of Velvet’s face, giving her a haggard air. 

Guilt tickled along the back of Luna’s mane, and with a long sigh she abandoned the mirror and her curiosity.

“What of you?”

Pulling out a bottle of rye whisky, Velvet snorted at the room at large. “Me? I was such a foal. But what else would I be? I was a teen, and a very arrogant, stupid teen at that. I never saw or acknowledged that I almost always had help or was monumentally lucky. Even that day. Being a young pony in a sea of halla had its advantages.”

Velvet brought the bottle and two glasses over to Luna.

“I meant… never mind. So,” Luna drew out the word as she accepted her glass, trying to find something else to discuss. “Llallawynn…”

“You’re curious because you knew her when she was a star and pony both.” Luna gave a hesitant nod. “Not much to say. I don’t know what happened to her after I surrendered her. I imagine the Eagles locked her in a vault. Maybe they were kind and put her in a place of honour in some hall, but that’s unlikely. Either way, she rejected me after what I did with her.” 

Whisky swirled in the bottom of Velvet’s glass, and Luna felt a pang of sympathy for the mare.

“You’ll see, if you keep watching the mirror. I’m done lying and twisting the past.” Knocking back the glass in a single gulp, Velvet gave an appreciative shudder. “I kept trying to tell the truth, but I always strayed, or I found I’d forgotten details and filled things in. For years I tried not to think about my time in the north, and now, when I want to share…”

Velvet’s voice trailed off. Luna could sense that she wanted to say more, but the matron snapped her mouth shut and turned to regard Sol rising over the trees. Velvet’s gaze grew unfocused, lost wandering the hazy past. The silence stretched for several minutes until Luna couldn’t stand Velvet’s glower any longer.   

“So, you encountered Sombra, and he spoke for Faust?”

“Huh? Oh, the message stuff? I… don’t really remember that night too well in all honesty. We talked about something, but what? I… can’t say. I was pre-occupied and he could have said almost anything. Mentioning it seemed like a good idea yesterday. Set-up for the big confrontation where I lie through my teeth about what really happened and make myself out to be some big, damn hero that the fillies could look up to, and not the villain.” 

Pouring herself another glass, Velvet gave her head a slight tilt as if she were looking at a curious painting. “I’m surprised. I thought you were going to interrupt or confront me about my claims.”

It was Luna’s turn to shrug. “You didn’t say anything Celestia and I haven’t thought of in the past. Mother must have known his intentions. I am more curious how you know about Sombra.”

“Because he helped train me.” Velvet sighed and retreated from the sunlight now flowing through the window. “Crisp Winds was my first master. Algol gave me the runes. And Sombra, he… he tried to help me manage them. But I was a terrible student by the time we met and I thought I knew better than him. Ha! He was a hundred times my age with a thousand times the experience. Yet, he never gave up hope and tried so damned hard to make me see what he saw; that I was a better pony than the monster I still see in the mirror.”

Velvet sagged more and more as she spoke, her gaze becoming fixated on the whiskey in her glass. 

Over the years, Luna had seen many mares broken by tragedy and loss. Velvet was not one of those ponies. The drinking, the far-off gazing; they were an act. Anger pinched the corners of Velvet’s eyes just so. At the moment it was unrefined, searching for a focus. Luna had to wonder if it would turn inward, or be directed towards the disc. 

The eyes Velvet fixed on her glass were dangerous, and powerful. Even having suffered a terrible blow, there was something to the way Velvet carried herself. Pride and strength flowed in an undercurrent like a dragoness returned to her nest to find her eggs stolen. Had Velvet been much younger, Luna would have thought nothing of offering to take the mare as a student. 

Her first since… 

Luna could not recall when she’d last taken a student.

As it was, Luna wondered how much she could teach Velvet. 

A sparing partner, perhaps? Luna made a mental note to ask Velvet to join her at Moonstone Castle sometime in the near future. 

“You are very nearly at our confrontation.” Velvet took the chair Shining had used the previous day, her tail snapping and a streak of tension running up her jaw. “But I should warn you, it won’t just be Sombra you see in that mirror. It’s tuned to what I saw, and that day is when I met Namyra.”

“That is wholly impossible. I saw her die.” Luna gave Velvet a dark scowl, to which Velvet responded with a dispassionate shrug.

“I’m telling you out of courtesy, nothing more. I didn’t want you surprised by painful memories.” 

A slow laugh followed from Luna. There were many painful memories in her past. Some clearer than others. Namyra was far from alone as a pony Luna had loved and failed to protect. Some of her oldest memories, stretching back to her own fostering, were the loss of sisters and parents. The scent of burnt hair occasionally lingered at the edges of Luna’s dreams, as did the rain upon her face and back as her real father was laid to rest.

The pain that accompanied such memories had long since faded, but it had taken Luna centuries to achieve that peace.    

She wondered how long would it take Velvet to accept the loss of her last sister.

Until then, her friend was in pain and needed her compassion. “Rather than discuss history, I would know how you fair.” 

Still considering her whisky, Velvet was slow to respond.

“Numb. Death is an old friend, and Sateen isn’t… wasn’t the strongest of ponies. I’ve known for a long time that each winter could be her last. But to lose her to a fire? Not just Sateen, but all… all of them…” She sipped at her whisky, savouring the burning as her brow knitted together in thought. “Limelight… or Star?” 

The shift caught Luna off guard. Not just the nature of the question, but the speed with which the brooding anger vanished and was replaced by careful consideration. Even the glass was put aside to be forgotten on a distant corner of an end table. 

“I’m not sure I follow,” Luna admitted, more concerned with the alteration in Velvet’s demeanor than the question. 

“One of them will have to be named as my heir.”

“Oh.” 

Luna had never put much stock on the importance of lineage, but rather living up to the honour of the House. It didn’t matter if the pony was the matron, the heir, or the least member of a branch herd; a Sparkle was a Sparkle. 

“Either way, the line of true Sparkles ends with me.”

The words were stated very matter-of-fact, and brought Luna out of her thoughts before she could be fully lost to them. 

“You’re not so old that you can’t have another foal, I thought.” 

At once Luna regretted her words. Velvet didn’t seem to hear her at first, and then the matron began to chuckle. After a few moments Velvet was laughing almost to hysterics. Unsure how to respond Luna looked away.

Her laughter draining away, Velvet said, “No, I’m not too old. But there is a slight problem. I’ve been barren since my time in Gur Moloch. Diamond Dogs, you see, don’t want slaves to breed uncontrolled, so they take preventive measures.” 

No doubt anticipating Luna’s next thought, Velvet added in a swift voice, “Shining was a gift. No, ‘boon’. I recall Iridia quite clearly calling him a boon to reward my service in freeing her.” 

“If Shining was a boon for freeing her, then why would Iridia not grant one for raising Twilight? No, do not try to argue, for I will tell you now, she will. If you ask her properly.”

“I’m fresh out of cuttings from the First Tree.” Velvet actually chucked, a little smile bringing back some of the glow she’d possessed while telling her story.

Luna thumped a hoof on the floor in a dull boom. “Bah, that is hardly the only method for seeking her favour.” 

“True, but it doesn’t matter.” Velvet’s smile grew a little wider. “I know no less than a dozen methods to invoke the favour of the Springbringer. No, I simply refuse to ask her to take a foal from a different mare so I may continue my line. As you say, she would do it, and it would be wrong. I have been blessed beyond measure already with a plethora of daughters and three sons; even if I did not bear most of them myself.”  

“Is this why you dote on your lesser daughters?”

Velvet raised her head a little at the question, but did not answer. Letting more of her exasperation show, Luna indicated with a slight tilt of her head the upper floors and the general direction of the nursery. 

“I’ve rarely seen a House where the lesser sons and daughters are treated as equals to the matron’s own foals. I don’t mean that they are treated poorly, rather, there is always that odious hint of favoritism.” Luna let out a little laugh at the distaste that was beginning to spread across Velvet’s features. A slight, nervous jitter fluffed Luna’s wings and her laugh drew on for a little too long. “I don’t judge you. At least, not poorly. Truly, after the rumours we’d heard of you among court, why, we did not know what to expect of how you’d treat your wives’ foals.”

“Rumours? I would have thought you wouldn’t listen to the idle gossiping that the other nobles practice.” Velvet waited a few moments before adding, “What did these rumours say, exactly?”

Following an airy wave of her hoof, Luna shrugged, and said, “Oh, this and that. I only paid attention to the comments about Twilight and your daughters. There was no shortage of baronesses and ladies whispering one thing or another about House Sparkle, especially before Cadence and Shining’s wedding announcement.”

Luna regretted her choice of words at once as Velvet stiffened. The baroness cast a narrow glare at Luna, one not meant for her, but rather the sources of the rumours. It was a very dangerous look, one that made Luna worry for them should Velvet ever learn their names. 

Through the mirror, Luna had seen enough to recognise Velvet as a deadly opponent with a blade. A little bud of curiosity pressed up against the back of Luna’s mind, making her wonder how much of her old skills Velvet retained. Luna reminded herself to later ask Velvet if she’d like to spar. 

To get away from that fuming glower, Luna indicated the mirror. “How about we see some more of this battle, yes?”  

Velvet gave a sharp shake of her head.

“I promised Tyr not to proceed with the story without her.” 

Luna was spared having to find something else to deflect the conversation by the ringing of the breakfast bell. 

Unlike dinner, breakfast was a far more informal affair. Served in a sunny sitting room on the east-side of the manor, the family had plenty of room to stretch out in various chairs and lounges, with a fine spread of food on a long, low table.

It was an unusually solemn affair, with little spoken as each pony withdrew into their own thoughts. The silence, broken by the occasional request for one of the newspapers to be passed along, was especially heavy on Luna. 

Since her return, breakfast for Luna meant dining with Celestia, and Blueblood, Cadence, or Shining if they were visiting Canterlot. Even without the others, Celestia was a font of small talk as she detailed the events of her day—Luna’s ‘breakfast’ often being Celestia’s ‘dinner’—with questions about Luna’s plans.  

It was a rare treat to actually have a proper breakfast, and it was a shame that the air was so sullen. Not that it could have been anything approaching happy after the previous evening’s news.

The arrival, and departure, of the children created little distractions at least. Elegant and Melody jostled with each other, fighting over the largest apple and croissant for a full minute before Adamant raced in, snagged both, and gave his mothers a quick kiss each on the cheek before darting back out of the room. Unable to accept such a defeat, the twins gave chase, Elegant back peddling enough to grab a Hackney muffin sandwich for herself and her sister.

Spike slumped through the room, tail dragging along beside his favoured blanket. Heavy bags clung to the undersides of his eyes, giving him an aged, haggard air. A single, long grumble about morning’s being too early in the day rolled from the drake. He took an extra large cup of rich roasted coffee and speared some bread on one claw. Holding the bread up, Spike toasted it with his flame as he too left the room. 

Even Pennant didn’t sit down. She was already covered in a lather from sparring with one of the crystal guards and still carried her training sabre as she made her excuses for not staying while gathering a simple bowl of oats and milk. 

As the last of the younger Sparkles vanished with their food, Glitterdust cleared her throat and looked up at Limelight. “So, love, do you want to tell Velvet, or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Velvet asked only half interested as she skimmed over the Huffington Free Press.

“Nothing!” Limelight exclaimed with a little too much force, making Luna lift her own head out of curiosity and scrutinise the young mare. 

Her coat, usually so reminiscent of cherry blossoms, glowed a far brighter red across the face. Silently, she pled with Glitterdust to change the subject, altering her gaze to Luna when Glitterdust only shook her head, a resigned glint in her periwinke eye. Defeat, utter in it’s totality, flowed off the young mare when Luna gave a slight shake of her head.

She was not going to interfere in what was clearly a familial matter.

“I’m sorry, dear, this is important,” Glitterdust gave a slight wince, before saying, “Limelight was discovered by the Nightguards out by the north shed meeting with a young stallion.”  

Perfect silence reigned after Glitterdust’s proclamation until the first muffled snickers from Limelight’s brothers. The pair looked like a couple foals that had just been told they were getting extra Hearth’s Warming Eve present 

Comet spared his sons scathing glares before turning a far more devastating look on his daughter. “Is this true?” 

Ears flat, and unable to look at anypony else present, Limelight mutely nodded.

“I thought we raised you better than this,” Comet said to himself. 

“We didn’t do anything, father!” Limelight insisted as she snapped her head up.

Pushing away his half-finished bowl, Comet merely continued to frown. “And we’re to take your word for that?”

“Father!”

“You sneak around behind our backs to see this boy, and while you are…” he faltered over the words. Shaking off his discomfort, he continued as though he’d not slipped at all, “And you expect us to simply believe you? No, daughter, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” He paused for a beat, visibly collecting himself. “So, who is our potential new son-in-law?”

Limelight flinched and muttered angrily under her breath. Comet stomped his hoof, drawing her eyes to his, and demanded an answer. Her entire demeanor shifted, anger giving way to the fear of a mouse caught in a lion’s den. Chewing her lower lip, Limelight was slow to answer. When she did, she hedged her words with an anticipatory wince. 

“You know Intrepid?”

“Harmony preserve us!” Whisper said shaking her head. “The Plowshare colt, Limey? You can do so much better for yourself.” 

In a flash, Limelight went from embarrassed to furious. Her face grew a darker shade of red, puffing up around the cheeks as she fought to contain her anger, and failed. 

“Why? Because he’s an earth pony? He’s a good, gentle, kind-hearted stallion, mamma.”

“I never said anything against his character. That has no bearing on—”

“Oh yeah? Name one earth pony you would approve of!”

“I… I…” Whisper floundered for a moment before recovering. “That is unfair and beside the point. Had he been blessed with a horn, he’d still be poor and far below your station.”  

Luna’s mouth fell open just a little hearing such casual tribalism from one of Twilight’s parents. Though Glitterdust and Comet both visibly winced, neither spoke up against her. Limelight trembled, ears quivering, and mouth opening and closing a few times as she struggled to form words. 

Not allowing anypony else to get a word in edgewise, Whisper continued, “This had better just be a dalliance. You are a contender for heir, Limey. The other nobles will have a hard enough time accepting you into the House of Ladies as it is. If you marry a low born commoner, Velvet may as well pass you on for Star.”

“Maybe she should! I’m not you. I won’t marry for political gain into a loveless union!” Limelight jumped out of her chair, and for a brief instant, Luna thought her about to charge Whisper. Instead, she banged down her hoof, her voice continuing to rise as she added, “I’m old enough to remember the bad days, when you’d sulk in the library and mother was—”

“Limelight, that is enough.” Though his voice was low, Comet’s words smashed into Limelight and drove her back into her seat.   

Wondering why Velvet had yet to speak, Luna shot a quick glance to where she sat. A rare intensity blazing behind Velvet’s eyes, taking in every aspect of her daughter as the argument progressed.

“I’m not some filly in her first season, father, and I resent you and mamma implying as much! We met so I could end the relationship, such as it was. Of course I’m a contender. No, I’m the best candidate. Star couldn’t managed a simple dinner if you gave her a script. She’s hopeless, like some other members of this family, I may add. You probably have a list of potential husbands for me sitting in the study, waiting for you and mother to go over it together. Well, fine! Sell my life away to the highest bidder. Faust knows you’ve never given me any say before. Why would you start now?”

Standing up abruptly, Limelight marched to the door. With her aura resting on the doorknob, Limelight turned back for a moment to level a final glare at Whisper, “I know my duty, even if it breaks my heart. It’s about the only trait I inherited from you,” before stomping up towards her room.

The effect on Whisper was immediate, the mare seeming to grow smaller by several degrees, off-white coat darkening to a pale grey as she wilted and a few tears sprang to her eyes. Both Glitterdust and Velvet leaned over to give comfort, but it proved ineffective. It was only a few moments before Whisper sprang up, apologising as she darted from the room.

“I’ll find Whisper,” Glitterdust said to Velvet and made to follow their wife, while Comet said, “And I will have a talk with Limelight.”

“Do either of you want my help?” Velvet looked from one to the other. 

Both Glitterdust and Comet shook their heads, saying it’d be better if Velvet didn’t become involved, yet.  

Only a few minutes passed before Two-Step stretched and, as he left, said, “I’m going to be late tonight, mother. Briny wants to discuss some new method he theorizes will double the yield of potion from the flowers.”

“Anything I should be involved with?” Velvet asked as she set aside her partially finished food.

Two-Step shrugged. “I don’t believe so. You know how he gets when he believes he’s onto something. Which is why I’ll be late.” 
 
After the door clicked shut behind Two-Step, Luna gave Velvet a slight, enquiring look. The Sparkles’ potions and poultices had saved many of her ponies during her war with Celestia. It was a comfort to know the medicines had been preserved when so much else had been lost from that period.

“Briny is in charge of the distillery,” Velvet said, and from the way she stood it was plain that she’d given all the explanation Luna would receive. Clearly eager for some distraction after the argument, Velvet inclined her head in the direction of the stairs. “How about we go to Tyr and keep her company. I can tell you all some more of my story.”

“Yes! That would be most agreeable.” Luna clapped her hooves together. “We can retrieve the Crystal and take it up to Tyr’s room.”

Velvet gave a little start followed by a slow shake of her head. “No, I’m done with that spell. I’m going to dismiss it and return to telling the story the proper way.”

True to her word, Velvet returned to the library long enough to collect the Dreamer’s Crystal and banish the mirror. After returning the artifact to it’s proper home, Velvet joined Luna and Shining in Tyr’s room. Unsurprisingly, Elegant and Melody had already beat them, and the trio were stuffing their faces from bowls of sliced apples and donuts when the adults arrived. 

“So, the story,” Velvet almost purred as she took her seat next to the bed. “Where were we? Ah, yes, the doors had collapsed…” 

“No more mirror?” Tyr and Elegant asked through mouths full of food. Forcing down her breakfast, Tyr hastily wiped her mouth clean. “I liked the mirror. It was honest.”

“The mirror was a mistake, dear. One I don’t think your mother will be too happy about when she hears I used it.” 

Hooves crossed, Tyr pouted and looked away. 

The filly’s forced sullen nature made Luna smile. It had been too long since she’d been around foals. Regret pooled a little at the back of her heart for the lost time when Cadance had been little.

“No need for faces, little ones,” Luna playfully chided, using a wing to tickle the fillies’ noses until they giggled and rolled around the bed to escape.   

               






The serenity created by the gate’s destruction was shorter lived than the toll of a single bell. Horns sounded across the breadth of the plains. Among them I recognized the brassy thunder of Growler and the sharp reports of Mountain. To them I added my own notes, each harsh as the cries of carrion crows. My eyes darted across the battlefield for signs of my friends or coterie. 

Of the few dozen Ravens that made up my band I could only locate half through the swirling sea of bodies and fighting. It wasn’t that they were hard to spot. Unlike the other halla, the Ravens used their magic with indiscriminate glee. Each had fallen into a comfortable pattern that relied on their own specialties. Lightning crackled leaving trails of burnt flesh. Chunks of earth spun through the air crushing bone and sinew. Pillars of jagged ice shot from the ground, razor edges stained with red. Easiest to spot were the Triplets, the trio forming a rolling inferno around their antlers as they barreled through the diamond dogs.

This visibility, while inspiring to our fellow halla, worked against them all, acting as a beacon for bolt and spear. A young hind from the coastal mountains was surrounded, her shields of stone cracking under the continual barrage. Yelling, she dropped a boulder three times her own size on the nearest dogs with a wet squelch, deflected three pikes, snapping off their heads, and then took a bolt through the throat. She staggered back, shields crashing around her, a spear piercing her belly from a dog that rushed forward. Nearby an aged master stood beside a former apprentice, the pair working together to deflect and counter. There were too many bolts and spears for the old master to block, his strength flagging after the long weeks of marching and the charge. His shields faltered and they were both dragged down by hooked chains.  

I sounded my horn again and again as I charged towards the nearest raven. Llallawynn spun around me in a crimson song of steel as I gathered my ravens and rallied the nearby halla. More and more, Llallawynn began to move of her own accord, as if she could predict attacks or the holes in the enemy's defences and adjusted her flight to strike deeper while keeping me safe. With Llallawynn dancing I could hold my magic in reserve, saving it only for emergencies.   

Soon, I’d gathered almost a dozen of my fellow mages. The Triplets were the last to arrive, their coats matted with blood and Violet wobbling on her hooves. 

“Master Velvet, what do we do?” asked a buck from the southern herds. 

Sparing a few moments, I glanced around the battlefield. The ravens and I stood within a pocket of relative calm. Mountain and his Ironbarks were driving the dogs hard along the right flank, while Snowflame and her bands had reached the first of the trebuchets. A last, defiant stone was hurled by the siege machine before it fell with a splintering groan as the supports were pulled out by a group of halla. 

“We must reach Lord Growler and the doors. The dogs must not  enter the Vale,” I responded as my focus fixed on the shattered doors. 

“He and his band reached the Guardian and are holding their ground around her,” reported White, pointing to the heaviest fighting.

Nodding once, I took off at a brisk trot, once more setting my blade to her bloody dance. “Then let us not tarry. Once there, I will enter the vale while you collapse the entrance.”

In the center the fighting was still thick and brutal. After the crushing blow of the halla’s charge, the dogs had rallied into two distinct groups. The units that suffered the initial impact and chaos naturally broke into small packs, creating dangerous clusters across the field. Meanwhile, the unbroken formations closer to the glacier walls held their ground. Pressed between the wall of ice and spears of the halla, they made a desperate stand to hold their ground. 

From the front I lead the way, Llallawynn darting like an angry hawk across our path. Even with the expert work of the sword and our spells, three more of us fell on that short march. Further and further my sword strayed, each length dimming my aura upon her grip and the gem set into her pommel glowing in replacement. 

Then she was entirely free of my control. I have rarely seen anything so beautiful as when the final shard of my aura was slipped and Llallawynn truly began to fly as she had those many centuries ago. My own strikes had been clumsy flailing compared to the grace and speed she possessed alone. I could even make out the ghostly essence of Wynn beneath the dancing sword. 

Terrified of the ghost and her blade, the dogs fell back. Those that didn’t were cut down in strokes so quick they defied the eye to follow their arc. She was a silver blur cleaving a path for us to charge through. 

Around the fallen guardian the fighting was at its peak with the mightiest of the dogs pressing against the halla. As they would to protect their own fawns, the halla formed a protective ring around the dragon. Other groups formed into wedges and stampeded back and forth, their formations smashing time and again into the dogs. In the distance Snowflame and her halla continued their drive towards the remaining siege engines, only to be cut down by volleys of crossbow bolts. Likewise the Ironbarks began to give ground. From their center Holm Mountain rallied his halla, his armour torn free from his right shoulder and viscera dripping from his bladed antlers. 

The halla were growing tired and the dogs numbers seemed almost endless. Every halla and diamond dog could sense the battle balanced on the edge of a sword. The barest shift and victory would fall to one side or the other. 

Closer and closer we drew to the center. 

So close I could almost reach out and touch the halla defenders, we were driven back by the Molochian Royal Guard. Blows that had felled so many of the dogs bounced off the heavy armour the Royal Guards wore, and even Llallawynn had difficulty finding an opening.   

I caught in the corner of my eye, the sight of the Triplets rushing forth off to my right. Wreathed in flames like they were phoenixes, the trio fell on the elite guards. The dogs held their ground with unnatural stubbornness against that roiling inferno. Undaunted by the magic, the elite guards surrounded my friends, thrusting with their short-spears. A quick twist of their spells diverted most of the attacks, but not all. Red took a spear to the breast, the steel tip piercing her heart. Her sisters, already deep in the throes of conjuring their shared magic, were not ready for the power that burst through them at their sister’s death. 

While White and Violet remained untouched by their flames, all others—dog and halla alike—were sent skittering back as fire burst in a searing white pillar. Those nearest were consumed in the conflagration at once, while the other ravens and I had to give back some of the precious ground we’d gained. 

Through the fire, I saw my beloved at the heart of the battle. Growler stood before the shattered doors alone, holding off King Selim and the Molochian Royal Guard from entering the glacial chasm. 

More than a dozen dead dogs surrounded Growler in a testament to his power. There was an ancient force draped over his withers that day, like our Queen was standing there, loaning him a fraction of her divine strength. No other Halla could have stood alone against such enemies. 

A sweep of his antlers felled two more of the heavily armoured dogs, slicing through their defenses with unnatural ease.

The old king, so powerful in his prime, retained much of his former strength. Along with it he added years of cunning and guile gained by ruling the fractious city of Gur Moloch. A few nearby halla attempted to halt his advance and were dispatched with ruthless efficiency.

A short charge brought the pair together, metal ringing on metal as they clashed, seeking a hole in the other’s defences. The metal haft of the king’s bardiche locked in Growlers antlers. King Selim held his ground, and then he began to drive Growler back. 

I rushed forward, forgetting the flames until the heat became too much, and I pranced back like a frightened animal..    

Desperate, I plumbed the depths of my spells for something to quench the Triplets magic. I’ve never been good with Abjuration school of magic. My talent lays along different lines, and it would be years before Whisper taught me a basic, short-range teleportation spell.  

I couldn’t even attempt to hurl Llallawynn, the sword still performing her dance to keep the other dogs at bay.

Helpless to intervene, I could only watch as Selim broke the lock, feinted towards Growler’s blind side, and hooked the bottom point of his weapon beneath Growler’s chin. Growler’s eye widened, feeling the tip dig into his flesh. He didn’t have time for anything else as Selim drove it home.

It was as if the blow had been to my own heart, driving me to my knees in the blood soaked mud. The shock lasted only a moment before it was buried under incalculable rage. Magic shot along my horn as all my thoughts were bent towards a singular goal; vengeance.  

A mournful, half-formed cry among the halla who had witnessed Growler’s fall faltered as I unleashed my fury. 

Simultaneously I cast two summons, entwining the spells together so each fed the other. 

From the ground burst a dozen ursta—the great spirit-bears of earth and stone that tend burial sites—and the sky was filled with shrill shrieks and heavy beats of wings as endless ravens appeared from the clouds. Unleashing primal roars at being pulled from their homes across the disc, the spirits fell upon the royal guard with reckless abandon. Granite claws shattered the last defenses of the dogs while the ravens sowed chaos among the enemy from the burning trebuchets to the distant edges of the armies. 

Through the chaos I spied Selim make his way into the glacier. 

At last the flames that had surrounded White and Violet subsided. Ready to chase after King Selim, I was halted by a ragged call from the latter. A gash ran from her brow and split her left ear in half before tracing to the base of her jaw, showing the white of bone all the way. Eyes glazed from pain she collapsed against White’s side. 

“Velvet… what are your orders?” White asked between long, laboured breaths. “We are all too exhausted to close the passage.”

Casting a quick glance around, I found the fighting dying down around the guardian. My ravens, already dissipating in puffs of oily smoke, had turned the tide, but the battle was far from over. Given time, it was possible for the dogs to rally, and I was too spent to perform such a spell again.  

“Then hold them back,” I snarled at the pair and the other surviving Ravens. Llallawynn fell from the sky, blade sinking into the earth next to my flank. Once more her pommel was still, Wynn’s spirit expended and dormant. Taking up my sword, I let my anger rise. “No, do more than that. Crush them. We must destroy them so thoroughly no that Diamond Dog will ever again think to threaten halla or pony ever again.”

My tail snapping as I turned, alone I marched after Selim, stopping only for a moment at Growler’s side.

“For River, and all the other fawns yet unborn,” I whispered to Growler as I bent down to place a last kiss on his brow. Lifting Llallawynn high,  I rose with a shout to the remaining halla, “Drive the dogs into the mouth of Tartarus. Leave not a single one alive. Expunge their taint from these holy grounds!” 

Then I charged down the canyon, driven on by a surge of cheers.     

Shadows clung to me like a second set of robes, my jaw stiff with rage. In the smooth faces of the glacier I saw my eyes had become as jade with cherry pits.

Behind me, the halla launched themselves with renewed vigour upon the dogs. Long and bloody would be their day, and when it ended those who survived would look up with tired eyes to see that their fallen lord had been honoured, that not a single dog left that field alive. 

My hoofbeats echoed down the icy canyon in a crunching rhythm. I had to reach King Selim. I had to be in time. Too many lives depended on the vale for me to fail again. Lowering my head I pushed the fatigue and pain dragging through muscle and soul like a griffon’s talon. From that ache I drew strength, enough to carry me deep into the glacier. 

Offshoots, little chasms, winding side passages, and sudden drops or walls created a maze. Sol’s light shimmered in silvery-blue curtains, reflected deep into the chams in dazzling dances that could blind the unwary. But it was how the ice groaned as it shifted and moved that was truly spectacular. New paths opened and old ones ground shut around me making retracing my steps impossible. The constant noise created an odd blanket, as if the glacier was speaking to me in a voice too old to be understood. Through the shifting maze there was a path forged by two sets of hooves and the longer strides of paws. 

My ears perked up as a clamor reached me through the cacophony. 

Somepony was fighting.

Charging faster, I turned the final bend to find myself at the maze’s end. Down the last stretch of canyon, before a set of open doors identical to those destroyed by the dogs stood Sylph and King Selim.

My friend stood defenceless before the king. Her brace of daggers empty, the blades dotting the walls and floor between her and Selim. She took deep breaths, her stance wavering, though a firm light still glimmered within her eyes. At my arrival her focus darted away from Selim. In that instant he struck, bardiche a blur as it descended towards her head.

“Sylph!” I shrieked as the heavy blade found its mark.

For an instant I thought I’d lost another friend. Then light flashed around Sylph’s throat. Selim and his weapon were hurled back to strike the wall with a most satisfying crunch, and moved no more. Around Sylph’s neck hung the Crystal of Lust,  a brilliant pink corona of light emanating from within that tinted the ice a hungry shade.
 
A relieved sigh carried Sylph’s name as I ran towards my friend.

Ancient magics spilled from Sylph’s eyes, falling like tears to the ground where they formed a sizzling pool and her entire body shook. She glanced towards me, her face scrunching up in surprise and something else.  

“Velvet! Stay back! I can’t control her much longer!” Sylph held up a trembling hoof to ward off my approach. 

The warning was ignored. I hardly slowed until my hooves were wrapped around Sylph. “You are a fool,” I growled into Sylph’s mane. “Why did you and Sombra leave?”

“Her hunger… her need for power, magic, knowledge; its eating me, Velvet. I… I was afraid for you. She wants what you possess. The Dark Runes.” Sylph tried to push me back, but I clung to her all the tighter. “She needs them. I need them.”

“Well, those will be rather hard to remove.” 

I tried to laugh, but couldn’t remember how. Like so much at that period of my life, laughter was little more than a distant fragment floating in the recesses of my most faded memories. It was something halla did to show happiness, and I had long since surrendered mine to fuel my magic.

At last releasing Sylph, I glanced over her withers in an attempt to peer past the doors. “Where is Sombra? Is he not with you?”

Sylph turned to point into the Vale. “He’s in the vale’s heart with the dryads casting a ward to protect the vale from all harm.”

“All harm?” Fear, cold like winter’s breath, shot through my veins followed closely by a fiery burst of anger. “He means to prevent us from waking the Queen!”

Sylph’s eyes widened and she waved a hoof. “What, no! He said he needed to stop the dogs. He… He… He lied to me?” She narrowed her eyes, a thin line of magic dancing in their depths that was echoed within the crystal resting against her neck. “He means to steal from me!”

I should have argued against the notion, but neither of us were in our proper minds. I’d given too much of myself to the runes and had little compassion to spare. Sylph was only just holding out against the fragment of a restless goddess chewing away at the edges of her sanity.

Still, Sylph was stronger than I, and she shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts. “No, no, that is wrong. Sombra wouldn’t…”  
    
Before either of us could take a step into the vale they were halted by Selim’s cruel laughter. My mane stood on end as the slow, manic wheezing-like laughs rolled over me.

“Touching, but futile,” Selim spat, the king rising back to his paws, bardiche in hand. “You are both pathetic before Moloch. My lord will consume the Vale, and you along with it. There is no protection that wizard can create that Lord Moloch can not sunder. I am His vessel now, and soon He will consume all the foals.”

Selim shambled forward in odd, stuttering steps, broken bones grinding together setting my teeth on edge. Sheer malice propelled him closer, fueled by the dark flames within his heart. He dragged his bardiche along at his side, skittering through the loose stones. A dozen paces away, a howl ripped from the depths of his being. A terrible, unearthly howl that propelled him into a sprint as he hefted his weapon overhead.

“I am the instrument of his hunger. As his avatar I will have my revenge on you. On all the surfacers!” Selim bellowed as he charged.

Only barely did I manage to bring Llallawynn up in time. Sparks flew in a shrill screech as his bardiche ran down Llallawynn’s length. Hot, fetid breath washed over me as he pushed Llallawynn back until the locked blade hung just above my head. 

“You are a foal. A child playing with powers beyond your ken,” he sneered, no doubt anticipating victory.

“I am the Sorceress,” I growled back, my eyes glowing bright as I called on my remaining magic. “And you are an old fool.”

And then I reached up with my aura and grabbed Selim by the throat. Like the legs of an octopus, my aura slithered beneath his helm and gorget. His eyes widened as he realised my goal, and he pushed harder. Tighter and tighter I bound my magic until his breaths began to be drawn in rasping wheezes.  

I could feel his pulse through my horn as if my ear laid against his chest. The slow thump-thump-thump lessened each beat. Selim pushed his bardiche harder against Llallawynn to no avail. A grin grew across my muzzle at the taste of victory within my reach, and then it slid from my face.

It was not just his pulse I could feel; it was his life. 

Echoes of his fear, his rage, and his pain shot down my horn. Memories followed—both good and bad. Images of love; holding his newborn son for the first time, kissing his queen as he stood champion of the arena, and weeping softly before her burial pyre. And images of rage. One in particular stood out. The moment the old king had found his dead son and uncovered what I’d done to him. More and more followed until they were an indistinguishable tangle.

A scream tore from my throat, forced from me as what had become alien emotions drove me to my knees. There was too much for me to comprehend. The highest peaks of joy and the most barren pits of despair, and so many points in between that I’d traded to the Dark runes during my quest, washed through me. It seemed like my head should have split there was so much. And through the torrent I refused to relinquish my grip. 

Behind his helmet Selim’s eyes bulged.   

“I will not be the last…” 

Selim’s last words bubbled in his throat as I gave a final pull and twisted. The sensation of his neck snapping, body going limp still lingers to this day. In that moment when Selim died, I could see a trace of his soul as it fled his body. I could not have paid him any attention even if I wanted, as I was struck by a different presence, one far older and more powerful than anything else I’ve encountered save the princesses and one other.

It had not been a lie when Selim claimed to be the avatar for Moloch the Devourer of Foals and Duke of War. Through my connection to the fading trace of Selim I could see Moloch. He is a horned beast very much like a minotaur. Massive, with dragon wings and a forked tail. From atop a throne made of fire blackened bone he looked upon me with eyes that glowed the most sickly green, and he smiled. In one clawed hand he held a rod, and in the other an acorn of gold.

Beyond Moloch stretched his demesne within Tartarus, an empty, bleak place of ash storms and burning pyres that his legions clung around.  

The image of Moloch and Tartarus lasted less than half a heart-beat. But it seemed to stretch on and on, and I was certain that the demon could have stretched out a taloned hand to grab me. Perhaps he did, or maybe I was the one to touch him. Either way, I did something that I believe is unique; I touched the lands of the dead as a mortal, using Selim as a conduit, and was not lost.  

Trembling from that brief encounter I discarded Selim’s body and turned to find Sylph staring at me in wide-eyed terror. 
    






“Wait, you did what?” Tyr waved a frantic hoof to stop the telling of the story. Scrunching her face up in disbelief she snorted, “Are you insane? Who does something like that? At least hit him with a big rock first! That’s what Zeus would have done.”

Several voices together repeated, “Zeus?”

“You know…  The Thunderer? Stormherald? King of the Gods?” Tyr glanced from face to face, expression shifting through different phases of surprise. Then her hoof came up to tap her temple. “Of course, how could I forget you don’t know any of the other gods.” Tyr paused to chew her lower lip, brow furrowing in thought. The look reminded Velvet so much of Twilight when she’d been young that a small pang twinged her heart for the days when Twilight had been little and hers.

She’d never get to see that look on Twilight’s face again, at least not in the same way. There was something about the innocent bafflement of a contemplating filly that was so much more endearing than on a full grown goddess. 

Coming to a decision, Tyr shrugged her missing wings. “If we’re lucky, none of us will see him. He’s… intense.” A cringe flickered across Tyr’s features at the lameness of her explanation. “But he wouldn’t kill with his aura! I think…”  

“Well, if it makes you feel better, little one, I wasn’t in my proper mind and—”

“Hey! You said you’ve never seen a demon!”

Velvet arched a brow and chuckled. “I said no such thing. I told you that none has been spotted on the disc in centuries.”

“Oh.” Tyr’s face, puffed up with indignation, fell. She quickly collected herself, and fixed Velvet with a stare that could almost have set her on the backs of her hooves. 

Before Tyr could lend voice to her thoughts, the bedroom door was shoved open, Glitterdust almost charging through.

She paused for a few moments just inside the door, eyes fretfully darting over the fillies before refocusing on Velvet. Rubbing her left knee and ears pressed flat, Glitterdust began to say something, then choked back the words. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Velvet pushed herself up a little on her cushion.

Flinching at Velvet’s movement, Glitterdust and glanced over the fillies and then around the room as if looking for something. Settling herself with a deep breath, Glitterdust finally asked, “Velvet, love, you haven’t seen Star, have you?”

“She was at breakfast, wasn’t she?” Velvet pinched her brow together as she spoke, trying to recall seeing Star at breakfast.

“No.” Glitterdust gave her head a vigourous shake. “No she wasn’t. I think she’s gone missing.” 

“Missing?” Velvet repeated, blinking a few times as her brain turned over what she’d just heard. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s pretty simple, Vel,” Glitterdust snapped as she began to pace at the bottom of Tyr’s bed. “No pony has seen her all day. Unless… Have you girls seen your sister?” 

Glitterdust shot the twins a hopeful look, one that was quickly dashed as each gave a little, “No,” and shook their heads.

“Have you asked the staff? They see—” 

“I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I hadn’t already spoken to Mrs. Hardtack and both guard captains. Miss Darning said that Star’s bed was already made when she did her rounds this morning, like it was never used last night. And no pony can recall seeing her at all today. She never came for breakfast, nor was she seen afterwards when the pies were put in the oven. I’ve been to the library, the gardens, even the sparring field; all empty!”

Getting up, Velvet went to Glitterdust and pressed herself against her wife in a way that always served to calm her. “Don’t you think you’re over-reacting? She’s probably just out for a walk. I’m certain she’ll turn up soon, a little hungry and very dirty. The guards probably spotted her, and thought nothing of it. In fact, I am certain of it.”

“I told you! I already spoke to the captains of the guard, and both said that other than Limelight sneaking out last night, nothing unusual had been reported.” Glitterdust let out a long, frustrated sigh and leaned against Velvet. “What if something has happened to her?” 

“Everypony is on edge after yesterday, Glitter. I’m certain she’s fine, but, if it will make you feel better, I will cast a spell to find Star.”

Relief flowed from Glitterdust at once, and she thanked Velvet and apologized several times in rapid succession.

The spell was cast, a relatively simple divination that would pinpoint Star’s location anywhere within the manor grounds. Velvet’s heart skipped a beat when, instead of giving her a brief image of Star, it returned nothing. Thinking that, perhaps, she’d performed the spell incorrectly, Velvet cast it again to the same result. 

For a few, oh so brief, moments Velvet experienced a novel surge of dread. 

“I know that look… what’s wrong? Where is Star?” 

“It’s…” Probably nothing? Velvet shook her head to dislodge the response. Guiding Glitterdust to the cushion she’d been using, Velvet said, “I can’t find her.” 

Glitterdust let out a choked sob as she fell onto the cushion in a partial faint. 

“Mamma!” Elegant and Melody cried out in alarm, jumping from the bed to race to their mother’s side and press their heads against her neck. 

“She is just beyond the effect of the wardstone,” Velvet said with more certainty than she felt. The other possibility was too terrible to contemplate.

Half out of his seat, Shining gave Velvet a very slight nod towards the door and mouthed, ‘I’ll watch her.’

Thanking him with a brief smile, Velvet kneeled down so she was level with Glitterdust. “Star will be found, love, you have my word,” Velvet assured Glitterdust, and the room at large, before she spun around and began to march towards the door. 

She was half-way down the hallway when Luna called to her. “What are you planning to do?” The princess asked as she caught up. “If you desire the assistance of my guards…”

“That wont be necessary,” Velvet gave Luna an appreciative smile before entering Star’s room.

Crossing that most awkward of periods between being a filly and a mare, Star had been moved the previous year, out of the nursery and into a room of her own. It wasn’t as large as the dorm Star used in the School for Gifted Unicorns, but it was private. 

There was a moment for a slight smile to flit across Velvet’s lips as she inspected the room. A forced, pristine utilitarianism dominated much of the room. Everything neat and orderly on the small bookshelf. A desk sat tucked between the bed and window, a cameo of Princess Celestia sitting on one corner, and one for Princess Luna on the other, while over the desk sat a copy of a famous portrait of Faust. 

Tears almost sprang to Velvets eyes as she remembered the awkward talk Star had been given along with the room. All parents both dreaded and looked forward to the day their foals began the transition to adulthood. Star’s face had gone so red from embarrassment. 

The melancholy was gone as quick as it came. Velvet had no time to indulge in such nonsense, driven as it was by the cracks caused by Sateen’s passing. 

Moving to the desk, Velvet looked from one cameo to the other. 

They were small things, each just a little larger than a hoof in diameter. Each held a princess in profile, carved from a single pearl set into an ebony backdrop. Their manes were done up as they’d been during the celebrations following Luna’s return with gentle smiles on their faces. Framed with flowing gold filled with loops and flourishes, the craftsponyship was beyond superb. Celestia had commissioned only a few sets, and given them to a select few ponies. The set Star possessed had been given to Twilight, and carried her name on the backs along with the number 1 to show they were the first such cameos and, as such, priceless. Twilight, in turn, had given them to Star when she’d seen how much her little sister loved the cameos. 

An echo of Star’s jubilant shouts rang in Velvet’s ears, along with the prayers she’d catch Star giving to the cameos each night before bed.  

Star claimed to pray to both princesses in equal fervor. It was a claim made by too many ponies. All ponies had their favourite alicorn that they would turn to more often. For Velvet, it was Iridia who received her prayers and who she turned to in those moments she needed guidance. 

The right cameo, that of Luna, had been moved more often. Little scratches on the varnish showing where Star had picked the cameo up to bring it closer while praying. 

“Have you heard any prayers from Star?” Velvet asked as she picked up the cameo. 

Luna shook her head slowly. 

“Celestia and I, we keep that portion of ourselves… quiet. There are too many voices to pick any individual out. Even if we could answer every prayer, there is oft little within our domain. Celestia is the sun, and I the moon; that is the sum total of things. We are not light, nor protection, guidance, wisdom, fertility, or so many other things our ponies come to wrongly believe.”

“But, if she was praying to you right now?” Velvet flipped the cameo in her magic over a few times, hope bubbling a little beneath the surface of her face. 

All she desired was to hear that Star was okay. Assuming the silly filly was praying to Luna.

But again Luna shook her head.

“I would have had to mark Star with my favour, as mother called it, to make her voice out of the cacophony. On a regular day there can be many thousand voices lifted in my name at every given moment. It is… an odd comfort, I will admit.” Luna wore a sheepish grin and her gaze darted for a moment to the portrait of her mother. “Celestia always has more, of course. This time of year especially as ponies, for some reason, believe my sister has something to do with granting healthy foals.”

Velvet numbly nodded understanding. It had been a silly hope, and it was hardly important. Yet, the depth of the sting from losing that hope was oddly deep.

Lacking the time, nor inclined to search out the source of her feelings, if such a thing was even necessary, Velvet lead Luna out of the manor and into the garden. 

On the way down, Velvet sorted through the various means at her disposal to locate Star. There were plenty of options, mostly divinations. Velvet didn’t care for those she knew within that school. Each had some flaw, being either in the casting or in the results. It would do no good to be able to see Star without knowing where she’d gone. Outside of a divination, Velvet had her summons at her disposal. But, which to use? 

Hemmravn?

The two headed crow-like spirits were good at finding secrets, true, but they weren’t precisely trackers. Spying, yes, that function was as natural to them as breath was for a pony. While the spirit could search from the air, so could any of the pegasi guards. 

Her ursta wasn’t even considered for a moment. 

This left Velvet with her vetfrir. 

It had been many long years since she’d called on the vetfrir she’d bound during the cold winter nights of her apprenticeship to Crisp Winds. His binding was the proof that Velvet was a conjurer, first and foremost, able to call all manner of object or spirit to her side. There was something about the school that pleased Velvet, and always left her feeling like a filly that had just discovered her cutie mark.

This summon, however, Velvet avoided with good reason.

Saying a silent prayer to Iridia for strength, Velvet pulled the necessary runes together. The spell was among the oldest of her repertoire, predating the acquisition of the dark runes by years, and leaving no room for them to insert themselves into the casting.

Neither long nor complex, the spell was very personal in nature, drawing on the mark she’d left on the vetfrir she’d summoned those years before. The initial spell had been far more involved, requiring months of careful preparation and planning. Her magic had flared high that long ago night, filling the casting chambers within the Raven’s teaching lodge with blinding bands of violet and blue light.

Unlike that original casting, there were no bursts of wild aether to leave scorch marks on the ground, just a simple tug and a shift in the air as Velvet’s magic pulled a spirit across the disc. Or perhaps from another realm entirely. Velvet had never bothered to discover from whence her summons answered.

And then he appeared, an ancient vetfrir twice Velvet’s height. A great wolf, his fur was thick and shaggy, the white strands darkening to a grey-blue at the tips. Darker lines of blue formed symbols on the vetfrir’s shoulders and flank, while three gold stars mirroring Velvet’s own cutie mark shone from his proud brow. Rime glistened across his fur, with small clumps of ice shed like scales every time he moved or shifted his powerful frame. As his frosty blue eyes settled on Velvet, he pulled back his black lips to reveal even darker fangs. A massive paw dug into the earth, leaving a thin trail of frost, and his tail slashed sideways through the air.

“Lord Auroras?” Luna exclaimed behind Velvet. 

“Velvet Sparkle,” Auroras growled in a voice that howled like the heralding winds of a blizzard through Velvet and Luna. “For what purpose would you break your oath never to summon me again?” 

A slight chuckle worked it’s way from Velvet in spite of the tension in her neck caused by worry and grief.

“As I recall,” she said, “I merely said I would make every effort to avoid calling you. That is hardly an oath.”

Auroras huffed and rolled his eyes, his anger abating a little. “Always twisting words and meanings, little raven. Or, is it Sorceress now? The spirits have long whispered of your deeds, terrible and astounding. Is that what I should call you?” 

Velvet shrugged. “I don’t care what you call me.” She then pressed ahead, placing the cameo she’d taken from Star’s room before Auroras. “One of my daughters has gone missing. I wish you to track her for me.”

Cocking a brow, Auroras glanced down at the cameo, then back to Velvet. “This is why you call the greatest of the vetfrif? To find a lost foal as if I were a mere hound? My memory is long, unlike some ponies, and this indignity will be answered.”

It was not a true protest, merely a slight condemnation. After he huffed again, Auroras lowered his nose to the cameo and took a long sniff taking in the smell of Star’s magic as much as the scent of her fur and perfumes. Retrieving the cameo, Velvet put it on a ledge beneath a window where it could be recovered later and not accidentally harmed. 

Head held to the wind, Auroras took a deep breath of the moist spring air. His tail lashed eagerly and there was a happy, hungry light that shone behind his eyes. It had been a long time since any of his kind had set paw in Equestria to ran across its verdant fields or through the lush woods.

In a sharp kick he set off, bounding across the garden in long, graceful strides that would have put even the swiftest of ponies to shame. Velvet and Luna followed at a far more sedate pace, almost like they were out for a brisk stroll. With her connection to Auroras, Velvet had no worry about losing the vetfrir, no matter how far he went.

“You are a pony filled with surprises, Velvet Sparkle,” Luna said as they left the gardens and entered the rolling hills and fields surrounding the manor. “Summoning is not a common art in this age.”

“It’s not exactly rare, either,” Velvet pointed out as they passed the wardstone and headed for a wooded area.

Luna watched the woods with concern as they began to skirt the edge of the trees. It was not an unwelcoming looking woodland, but almost none were within Equestria. Velvet dismissed the woods entirely from her thoughts. Star was not within them, Auroras having passed through the woods and already emerged on the other side. 

“You do not seem to be worried,” Luna said as they picked up the rime covered trail of Auroras. “We have gone quite far from the manor.”

“There is farther still to go. Star is not within the wardstone’s purview, which has a radius of a few miles.”

With a shake of her head, Luna came to a stop just as the bubbling Bald River came into view.

“That is not what I mean. You are very cavalier about this entire situation. It is as though you do not care that Star is missing.”

Velvet sucked in a hissing breath. It was as if Luna had stabbed her just behind the shoulder. There resided her worries and despair, where they could be put until Velvet had time to deal with each.

“Do not mistake my focus for apathy,” Velvet shot back. “Me breaking down like a pampered, simpering foal will accomplish nothing. Of course I know that Star is probably dead! The cause? I can hardly guess. But I can’t think about it. I can’t. I have to act. I have to do something, and in those actions I can keep the terror at bay that we are but a few minutes from finding her cold and still.” 

Her hooves shook, as did her body and head. Dread threatened to well upwards, to overcome what remained of Velvet’s resolve and leave her prone. Tears welled in her eyes and it took all Velvet’s will to draw in a trembling breath and force her emotions back down. 

All the while Luna stared at her aghast, her own features wide with shock.

“I am sorry, Velvet. I…”

“Come on, let’s not worry about it.”

But worry was all Velvet could do now her armour was cracked. 

She found her hooves moving faster and faster. More so as the river drew nearer. Her gaze fixed on the spring glutted water as it rushed along its course, Velvet slowly drew to a stop. Before her was a short embankment that fell into the river, the edges fresh from a section having been swept away within the last day. Auroras’ large pawprints were easy to discern, as were the smaller marks of hooves. Marks that disappeared into the portion of the bank that had collapsed, and didn’t re-emerge. 

Velvet and Luna said nothing, both breaking into first a canter, then a gallop as they followed the river downstream.

Auroras was much farther ahead, with almost a mile head start on the mares. Through the connection Velvet shared with the vetfrir, she knew he wasn’t slowing down. 

A quarter mile along the Bald was joined by one of its larger tributaries, the river gaining speed and depth as a result. The Bald cut through the hills before entering one of the few forests of the region left wild for the animals. While not containing the unnatural energies of the famous Everfree, the Southfarthings were not a place ponies normally chose to venture. The air had a crisp, unkempt air about it, a breeze rattling the tall sycamores. 

The trails within the forest were plentiful, but not many ran along the river. Velvet and Luna kept having to either slow to forge their own path, or risk losing the river by following the trails. By unspoken agreement, they refused to let the river leave their sight. 

Velvet could feel hungry eyes watching her and Luna as they were finally forced away from the river as it plunged over a short series of cliffs and rapids. Scanning left and right, Velvet could see no trail nor a way to stay near the river further.  

Panting, Velvet slowed, her chest heaving as she sucked in tortured breaths. She was not a young mare anymore, and it was a minor miracle that Velvet had managed to make it so far without stopping before. They were well beyond the effects of the wardstone, by half a league or more.

A foamy lather covered Velvet’s flanks and back, her mane hanging about her face in tangles from the long run. 

Luna, by sharp contrast, was as pristine as when they’d left the manor. The princess held her head high and she was hardly breathing. It was as if all the running was no different than crossing a room to her.  

Somewhere no more than a quarter mile away, Auroras had come to a stop. Velvet cocked an ear as the dreadful howl of the vetfrir whistled through the trees, and the eyes that had been on Velvet vanished into the underbrush. Not the proud howl of a victorious hunt, rather that of a challenge.

“I can hear her!” Luna cried, almost making Velvet stumble. “She’s praying for me!”

An errant root completed what Luna had started, Velvet catching her hoof to fall in an unceremonious heep at the base of a particularly old tree. At once Luna’s hoof was offered to help Velvet up.

“Hold on,” was all the warning Velvet got before magic alighted along Luna’s slender horn and the pair were submerged into the biting, impossibly cold aetherial plane.

The teleport was short, Velvet hardly having time to understand what was happening before she found herself standing at the bottom of a deep ravine. Even that brief journey was enough to set Velvet’s teeth chattering.

With overhanging trees and the ravines steep sides, little light found its way to the rocky embankment. A heavy mist hung in the air, still and creeping, cast up by the rapids churning less than a length from Velvet. Cold fingers wormed their way through Velvet’s coat, the entire area suffused in a sickly pallor. Stones glistened like the teeth of an ancient dragon, their white, jagged edges thrusting from the water or scattered about the narrow bank.

Twisting around, Velvet searched for any sign of Star, Auroras, or what had caused the vetfrir’s war-howl. At once Velvet noticed a disturbance in the stones near her hooves. A path had been formed away from the river where something had pulled itself from the waters, leading up to a shallow overhang in the gorge’s face. Auroras stood half within the overhang, his powerful frame scrunched down over a still, light blue body, fangs bared and a long growl issuing from deep within his throat.

The source of Auroras anger became apparent at once, for just before the king of the vetfrir sat a translucent pegasus. The mare’s snowy mane danced about her like she were floating upon a still pond beneath the moon. A soft, comforting glow flowed from the tips of her silvery blue wings, one that both set Velvet at immediate ease and jabbed a spike of fear deep into her breast. Though hidden by her mantle of floating mane, Velvet knew the mare’s eyes to be darker than the void through which Ioka herself swam. 

Velvet knew the mare to be a thane, spirits who act as guides for those who die peacefully. 

“No! You can’t have her!” Velvet shouted, jumping forward to interpose herself between the thane and Star. She dared not look away to see Star’s condition, instead driving her gaze into the startled expression of the thane. Star had to be in very dire straits, on the cusp of the winter-lands between the world of the living and the rivers of the dead.

The thane turned her gaze slowly from Star to Velvet, a perplexed glow emanating deep within those eyes that were like windows into the realms of the dead. Recognition blossomed across the thane’s narrow face, her muzzling pulling up into a smile.

It was the smile one gave an old friend when bumping into them at a restaurant or shop, a delighted little grin that made Velvet’s anger falter. The thane almost skipped up to Velvet, wings extending a little, only to draw short as Velvet sheathed her horn in magic. Silent laughter made the thane shake, her mouth moving as she spoke words no mortal ear could catch.

“She says she knew you would come,” Luna relayed as she brushed past Velvet and both spirits to reach Star.

Maintaining her defensive posture, Velvet dared glance over her shoulder for just a moment to check on Star. Luna was bent low over Star, the princess blocking Velvet from seeing anything. Every fiber in Velvet’s being told her that it should be her tending to Star, but she refused to leave an opening for the thane to strike. A touch was all it would take and even the stoutest heart would stop. 

“How is Star?”

There was a slight pause within which the thane sat down again, still wearing her dopey grin. “She is on the cusp of death. We arrived within the last grain of time to save her.” 

Velvet let out a long sigh of relief and nodded her head, and in that moment the thane rushed forth.

In the blink of Velvet’s eyes, the thane drew up so close the hairs on their cheeks brushed through each other. A warning growl issued from Auroras as he made a half-step towards the other spirit. He stopped, though whether from the realization that he could be freed if the thane slew her, or because he feared forcing the thane’s hoof, Velvet was unsure.

“I saved her for you. I kept the keres that came for her away. It is as I promised; a life for a life.” The thane whispered in a voice that was both soothing and scratched Velvet’s nerves raw. “You lied about me, tried to spin a tale of woe and loss. But I am not mad. You saved me from my prison in Gamla Uppsala, and you saved my love from his shackles of immortality. For that I am thankful, and for that it will be I who escorts you to Phlegethon’s banks when your time comes.”

A deathly chill creeped over Velvet as the thane whispered. She recognised her now as the spectre that had wandered the wretched halls of bone and misery that were the crypts upper levels.

“Until we meet for the final time, Velvet the Clever.”

The thane pulled away, and then she was gone as if she’d never been on the river’s bank at all.  
 
Velvet stared at the spot a moment longer, then dismissed the thane’s words from her thoughts. There would be time enough later to contemplate why the spirit had chosen to appear before her. 

Thanking Auroras for his service, Velvet dismissed the vetfrir and joined Luna beside Star. His gruff acknowledgement went unheard, as he dispersed into a snow strewn wind like a cloud kicked up by a breeze after a blizzard had passed. Velvet only had eyes and ears for Star.

Star was in much worse shape than Velvet had feared. Her lips were blue, and she did not have the energy to even chatter her teeth. Star’s right hind leg was twisted at an unnatural angle beneath her while welts and splotchy bruises shone through her light coat in dark, angry marks. Luna hung her horn just above Star’s head, a soothing bluish-white sheet of light dancing across the filly. 

“I am afraid there is little more I can do than give her a little strength.” Luna looked up at Velvet, worry swirling behind her teal eyes. “She should be dead, Velvet, there is so little life within her. I can hardly sense her breath at all.”

Nodding her understanding, Velvet put a hoof on Luna’s shoulder. “I can save her.”

There was a moment where Luna seemed on the cusp of arguing, then she gave a sharp inclination of her head and said, “Be swift.”

Velvet knew precisely which spell to use, though it filled her with dread. For it was the opposite of the one she’d cast on Prince Selim to drive his father, King Selim, so mad with grief and rage he’d lead his nation to ruin in search of revenge. 

Runes flowed upwards through Velvet, slamming together with a question; what was she willing to sacrifice for their power? There were no memories nor pieces of her soul Velvet was willing to trade, only a portion of her own vitality. 

It was a fair trade. A few months or more to pull Star back from the edge. To infuse her with the strength to recover on her own.

Blue and black, a line of magic shot from Velvet’s horn and connected to Star. She had to be careful not to give too much. Star’s leg had yet to be set, but she needed to be stabilized before tending to that injury. A few, tenuous seconds was all the spell lasted, but it was enough to leave Velvet feeling utterly drained, tired in body and soul in a way she’d not felt since the Battle of the Vale. 

Star’s teal eyes flitted open and she let out a low, exhausted groan. “Mother?” She whimpered, face scrunching up in pain.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Velvet brushed a few stray locks of matted mane away from Star’s face. “Luna and I are here. We’re going to make you better. You need to be brave for me, Star, just like an arch-mage.”

Comprehension was slow to dawn behind her eyes. When it did, Star gave a slow nod. 

Luna and Velvet worked fast, saying little, each knowing their part. Velvet smiled with pride as Star hardly made any noise when her leg was set and a spell applied to speed the knitting of the bone. It was a painful process, as Velvet could attest from experience, and a spell entirely beyond any other pony on all the disc. None save Velvet knew the Chaos Runes.

As was their particular way, the runes proved capricious. On the first application, Star’s leg was hardly healed at all. On the second, a great wave of rejuvenating energy mended the bone so completely, it was as if it had never been broken at all. Bruises and welts faded, and Star gained a little colour to her face.

Ready to topple over herself, Velvet gave Luna a quick nod. “It should be safe to teleport her now.”

“Then let us make haste,” Luna replied as she wrapped her wings around Star and Velvet to help shield them from the unfathomable cold of the aether.

There was a flash as Luna brought them all back to the manor, directly to Star’s room.     
	

> Part Thirteen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Thirteen


A subdued pink flash accompanied Cadence’s appearance atop a select, secluded tower in the corner of Canterlot Castle. In years gone by, the tower had been her own private little sanctuary when visiting her aunt. For the past few months now, it had served as the home for Iridia Tuilerya.

Cadence was greeted, therefore, not by a cold fireplace and shuttered rooms, but light sweeping in through the windows and the heady smells of burning incense mingled with the sharper notes of strong cheeses. Blinking and confused by the smoky atmosphere for a few seconds, Cadence wondered if the tower was on fire. The distinct lack of any sort of commotion from the Canterlot fire-brigades told her this was not the case.

“Aunty?” Cadence tentatively called as she descended from the spell chamber. There was no reply, so she called again with a little more volume. 

When there was still no reply, Cadence quickly extended her senses to see if her aunt was around. At once, she was struck by the proximity of her great aunt’s energy, as well as its unusually bubbly nature. Immediately, Cadence’s thoughts turned to Shining, and wishing he was holding her as they lounged beneath warm covers, saffron candles flickering on the nightstand as his hoof made slow motions over her cutie mark before curving towards her inner thigh.

A sharp shake of her head dislodged the thoughts before they could grow lurid, contemplating what they’d do with the bowl of nearby cherries, for instance, or their tongues. 

It took a couple more shakes and a hoofstomp to fully banish the enticing images. Erecting a partition within her mind to keep the fantasies at bay, while also preserving them for later enjoyment, Cadence resumed her descent and again called for Iridia.  

Wondering why there was still no response, she moved a little quicker until she was on the first floor landing.

She found her great aunt sitting in the middle of the tower’s main room, all the furniture pushed up against the walls and covered with tarpaulins, eyes closed as she swayed side-to-side in a trance. 

An eye cracked open, and Iridia gave Cadence a drunken smile followed by a hiccup.

“Candy, back so soon?” Iridia giggled and leaned forward, wings wobbling to prevent her from toppling onto her nose. “You should be with that husband fellow of yours. Doing… It.”

“It?” Cadence repeated, wondering what was wrong with her aunt.

“You know. Rutting. Performing the dance of life. Cha-cha-cha, ha-ha-ha.” Falling onto her side, Iridia let out a long series of guffaws while Cadence’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She was exceptionally thankful that nopony was around to overhear. “Oh! Another one!”  

Iridia bounded to her hooves, head craning towards the north in a perfect imitation of a pointer hound. “That makes three.”

“Three what?”

“Oh… Nothing?” There was a lopsided grin, one that pleaded for Cadence to ask again for an answer. 

Not playing along, Cadence rolled her eyes and said, “Okay. I need to—”

“Alicorns.” Iridia grabbed Cadence by the face, yanking her over so they were eye-to-eye. Her wintry blue eyes were foggy, lost, searching Cadence’s face and yet not. “Little, lovely alicorn foals. Souls. Alicorn souls, twisting, twirling, swirling and swimming through the Font. Three of them! That has never happened before.”

Cadence was released, a little more clarity growing in her aunt’s features. A little ‘oh’ of surprise broke from the vastly older alicorn, followed by a sputtered apology.

“I’m sorry, Cadence, when did you get here?” Iridia’s cheeks darkened, and she rushed off to one side of the room where an open bottle of fruity wine sat along with some cheeses and days old crackers. 

“A few minutes ago,” Cadence hesitantly replied. “Is this… normal?” she waved a hoof at the room.

Pouring the wine into four paper cups, Iridia let out a short burst of giggles. “Oh? This? No. Normally I like to keep the company of a stallion or four this time of year.” She winked as she turned back to Cadence and offered one of the cups. “Why, there was this one time I was in ancient Roam when the Season began. Now that was a Season. ‘Mellen vanima’; to love is beautiful. Love, in this sense meaning—”

Cadence quickly held up her hoof and said, “I get it. Really. Aunt Celestia did teach me a little of the ancient tongue.”

“Oh?” Iridia giggled and laid back against a pair of stacked chairs draped in a satin quilt, a hoof lazily rubbing circles on her flank. “That’s good. You should know your heritage.” 

Huffing in exasperation, Cadence could feel her patience wearing thin. She needed to get back to the manor. And then there was Abaddon’s rune, pressing on the boundaries she’d set around it. 

“What would Twilight say if she saw you like this?” Cadence verged on snapping, and only barely held her tone in check. 

“Might do her good,” Iridia laughed. “It’s not fair that my sister gets to have a granddaughter; one she doesn’t seem to appreciate no less! You are so beautiful and kind. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for looking after Twilight during her fostering. Oh, that reminds me.” 

Cadence’s face twitched at the mention of fostering, unseen by Iridia as she reached for a nearby bell. Getting up, she started for the door. She’d lingered too long in Canterlot. Her great aunt was fine, better than fine if Iridia’s radiating glow was any indication, and Tyr needed her. She’d almost reached the door when it was pushed open and one of the Solar Guard entered, a flat, professional stare on his face. He hardly even glanced in Cadence’s direction as he came to a stop and saluted.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Flash dear, there you are, good!” Far faster than her tipsy state would have indicated as possible, Iridia bounced over to Cadence and draped a wing and leg over her withers. “You need to find Twilight’s champion and perform the ‘Ritual of Life’ with her.”

“You want me to do what with Princess Twilight’s champion?” The pegasus tilted his head ever so slightly, confusion lingering on his face as his eyes darted from Iridia to Cadence, and back again.

Iridia gave a sharp shake of her head and almost slipped from Cadence’s support. “No, not with her, with Twilight. You need to plow her. And quick. Hop to it soldier boy. Your foal will be grand! Also, why does my Twilight already have a champion? Who taught her how to do that… Probably one of her stars. Yes, that must be it. My Twilight is so special and smart and you two will have a wonderful foal, so go find her already and get with the foal making.” 

Flash gave Iridia a deadpan glare, his face a brilliant shade of red underneath his orange coat, then turned to Cadence. “Your Highness, is there anything you can do for Her Majesty? She’s been like this for days now. With Princess Celestia gone and Princess Luna now away, nopony has any idea what to do with her.” 

Letting out a sigh, and seeing that she couldn’t leave Iridia alone in her current condition, Cadence wearily said, “Have a chariot readied to fly us to Sparkledale. I’ll figure out someway to alleviate her… condition.” Internally she added, ‘I hope.’

Relief clear in the way his wings relaxed, the guard saluted and marched off to carry out his orders with perhaps a touch too much speed. 

Finding a salve or antidote for Iridia’s erratic behaviour was all but impossible. It was the Season, and short of somehow cutting her off from the Font, there was simply nothing that could be done. With the magic coursing through her, Iridia would burn through the effects of almost all medicines—magical and mundane—in a matter of minutes, if not quicker, and Cadence doubted her aunt would sit still to go through breathing exercises. 

Gritting her teeth and wishing the guards would hurry so they could be on their way to Sparkle Manor, Cadence sat next to Iridia as her aunt began to poke the air. Iridia’s eyes darted like she were speed-reading, and a few times she clicked her tongue and said just under her breath, “No, not for you, for her.”   

Oddly, her presence was enough to calm the queen, and after a few minutes Iridia’s hoof drooped and she began to merely sway side-to-side while humming an ancient lullaby. 

Letting her eyes slide shut a little—it had been days since she’d had a proper rest—Cadence began to doze. It wasn’t a very restful nap, worries about Tyr circling with the hungry motions of desert vultures, ready to peck at her in a moment of weakness.

How she hoped everypony at the manor was alright. 

A reflexive check on the love binding her to Shining and Tyr showed both were afraid or worried about something. Shining’s in particular was rough and wounded. There was something else off about the cords that bound Shining to all the ponies he loved. Cadence stared harder, determined to figure out what was wrong, only to have the entire effort shattered.  

“Do you know why I intrusted Twilight to the Sparkles?” 

Iridia’s question jerked Cadence’s head back up. 

“What?”

Much of the giddiness from before was gone, Iridia’s motions far more fluid and contained. She continued to look ahead at whatever it was she saw—the Font, without question—but there was a little pinched reserve at the corner of her old eyes. 

“We have a few minutes until the pressure of the Season builds again, and I thought I’d tell you why I sent Twilight to the Sparkles instead of directly to Canterlot for Celestia to mold into her little tool to save your mother.” 

Cadence frowned at the bitterness, but shrugged her wings, and was happy to play along so long as it kept Iridia away from her earlier topics. “Because Velvet is a friend.”

“Oh, she is a friend. Now.” Iridia paused in her poking the air, a sardonic smile flashing across her muzzle before she returned to her work. “She wasn’t then. She is a very dangerous pony, prone to violence and vengeance. The former Countess Lulamoon wasn’t some random accident, though I doubt Velvet ever intended to kill Belladonna.

“No, it’s because Twilight reminded her of… Oh! It’s Queen Summerset! Who to give her to? Royalty, of course… Oh, this is perfect.” And like that, Iridia’s serious expression was gone, her hooves clapping like she were a foal herself. “Ask your mother about Summerset. They grew up together, you know. Or don’t. Might be bad. Terrible memories. Terrible ones. It’s so good to see her back on the disc again. Oh, Tartarus, the queen of Coltsica is already expecting… Maybe… Yes, somewhere in the Neighpon queendoms. There, she’s perfect! A little rustic, but royalty, and that’s what matters. And she’ll be a first born again. That’s even better, you know. A promise is a promise, no matter the ages in between.”

Cadence couldn’t help but smile, despite Iridia’s giddy rambling. Iridia’s love was strong, a little wild and free as well, but very earnest, especially when she talked about Twilight. She then braced herself for the upcoming deluge of lewd suggestions.

She was spared by the reappearance of Flash informing them the chariot was prepared.        

Immeasurably grateful to the young guard, Cadence helped Iridia up and out of the tower.

“Cadence. I have something for you, child,” Iridia purred as she was lead towards the coach house where their transport waited. She pulled away from Cadence’s guiding wing, magic alighting along her horn. 

Doing her best not to allow her impatience at returning to Sparkledale to get the better of her, Cadence tried to get Iridia moving again, only for her aunt to dance out of reach again. The magic Iridia was summoning grew, a faint whistle coupled with a jolt in the field of Love flittering across Cadence’s senses. 

From the tip of Iridia’s horn emerged a large aquamarine. A spinning nexus of magic coalesced into the stone, wrapping around itself until it was impossibly tight. With a little pop, the gem fell, Iridia just barely catching it before it hit the ground.   

She gave Cadence the glowing gemstone, almost pushing it into her hooves. “Here, here, take her. She’s yours, whenever you want her.”

A little spark darted between the gem and Cadence’s hoof, stinging her, but not unpleasantly. She could sense a deep pool of energy contained within; dormant, calm, and filled with potential love.

“Aunty, what did you do?” Cadence demanded.

“Nothing! I just contained one of the potential alicorn foals for you, so you can have her. She’s yours.” Iridia beamed and patted the gem with a wing tenderly. “Think of it as a late birthday present. One for each of the thousand and twenty three I missed.” 

Cadence could do little more than stare aghast at her aunt.

“You can’t just give a soul to me!”

“Sure I can.” Blinking a few times, Iridia frowned and again tapped the gem. “I am the Goddess of Life, and this life I entrust to you.”

“But—”

“I can’t take her back now anyways. She’s separated from the Font.” 

All Cadence’s potential arguments sputtered in her throat, leaving her mouth flapping uselessly while Iridia started to stagger to the chariot. Cadence was very good at knowing when a pony was lying, especially to somepony they loved. With the effect Iridia was having on Love, it was instantly apparent that Iridia believed that she couldn’t take the soul back. 

Hopping up into the Chariot, Iridia called for Cadence to hurry. 

“Maybe I should catch the others!” Iridia exclaimed, her wings shooting out and face beaming at the idea. “Then I can give one to Celestia and maybe she’ll finally forgive all the horrible things I said and did to her and Luna.”

Cadence was about to very firmly tell Iridia to do no such thing, that it could only make matters worse. She didn’t get the chance as Celestia appeared around the couch house’s side, her long stride carrying her swiftly across the palace grounds.

“Give me one what?” she asked as she slowed, seeming not to notice the stares leveled on her by everypony present.

Over the last thousand years, Cadence had seen her beloved aunt in many different states; composed, wrathful, sad, happy, and all points between. Never had she seen Celestia so… vivid. Celestia carried a slight, amused upturn at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes and wings were heavy with fatigue, but for all that, she radiated warmth, peace, and joy.

The flames that puffed up from Celestia’s shoulders and the tips of her wings certainly helped. Though, it was offset just a little by the long, angry line of a healing gash running from above Celestia’s left eye, across her brow, then curving down to her jaw. 

“Nevermind Iridia, Aunty, what happened to you?” Cadence stepped quickly up to Celestia, inspecting the cut in greater detail. It was deep, or had been, and given that it wasn’t fully healed was either recent or magical in nature. 

“This? I was a little careless is all.”

“But, you’re on fire!”

Wearing her most reassuring smile, Celestia touched Cadence’s chin with a wing, and said, “It’s a little side-effect and will pass. I have never been better in my entire existence. What about you? I thought you’d be with Tyr and Shining.”

“I decided to seek help as well, so I went to speak with Abaddon.”

Popping up beside Cadence, Iridia exclaimed, “Oh! A story! It will have to wait though. There are foals to give, and Cadence is taking me on a trip.” She leaned closer to Celestia, and in an altogether carrying stage-whisper, said, “And if you find some nice stallion to spend a relaxing evening with, I just may have a surprise for you as well.” 

Iridia’s gaze swung over to the stoic guards at the chariot and gave them a vivacious wink. Tensing, Cadence waited for Celestia to respond, while Iridia peeled herself away once more and began wandering in a wide circle, taking a hop every third step. For their part, the guards knew to remain detached and deaf to the goings-on just a few strides away. 

Nothing came from Celestia, except a slight, disapproving click of the tongue. Instead of the expected, simmering anger that accompanied any reminder of foals, Celestia shook her head slowly before trying to guide Iridia back to the chariot’s seat. 

“Happier days,” Celestia hummed to herself. “I had almost forgotten what you were like in the season. Trapped in stone for fifteen hundred years, and you haven’t changed at all, Iridia.”

“Sure I have,” Iridia pouted and playfully patted Celestia with a wing on the nose. “I forgave myself for failing to protect my daughter. There are amends to make still. To you and Lulu, to my sister when she decides to come home, and to… to… No, no, no. That is no good. Hippogriffs have griffon souls, not those of a pony.”   

Unsure what she should do, and confused by the calm Celestia continued to display, Cadence just watched as Iridia once again freed herself and made a straight line for the guards. By all reckoning, there should have been a shouting match between Celestia and Iridia. Under normal circumstances they could barely be in the same room for a few minutes before Celestia’s Love began to knot and she’d grow terse. Whatever had happened to Celestia, her emotions were far more stable than Cadence had ever known before. 

“I’m surprised you thought that bringing the Goddess of Fertility and Life to a house filled with young, eligible mares and stallions, not to mention a few foals, was a good idea,” Celestia chided softly. 
  
“Well, I can’t leave her here alone,” Cadence tilted her head to where Iridia was leaning down to proposition the guards hitched to the chariot. “Not when she’s like this. Do you have a better idea?”           
 
Pondering the question for a moment, Celestia replied, “Well, we could return her to Thornhaven. But the odds of her co-operating are… poor. Your idea is the best. We’ll just have to have all the stallions put up in the Sparkle’s guest manor.”

Relieved that Celestia actually agreed with one of her plans for a change, Cadence turned back just in time to see Iridia gathering her magic to form another of the crystals. Knowing what Iridia was about, Cadence shouted, “No!” as she jumped forward to slap her hoof against her great aunt’s horn, interrupting the magic. 

Crying out, Iridia fell onto her rump, hooves clutching her head. “Ow, that hurt,” Iridia said between hissing intakes of breath. “I was just trying to give Tia a present.” 

“It’s not one for you to give,” Cadence huffed as she helped Iridia up. 

Celestia didn’t contain her surprise, a questioning look fixed on Cadence. 

“I’ll explain later,” Cadence sighed as she, at last, got Iridia into the chariot, Celestia stepping up alongside, wings extended to fly in escort.

Accepting the delay, Celestia nodded to the guards and the chariot rumbled down the yard then up into the sky. Kicking her hooves, Celestia joined them, while Cadence found herself having to hold onto Iridia, lest her great aunt fall from the chariot for leaning too far over the side. Banking once around the castle, the chariot headed towards the east. 

 





Head pressed against the sill of her open window, Tyr watched the courtyard. Down below, a crowd had gathered. Ponies from the nearby village and the surrounding area congregated in a growing cluster near where many of the Sparkles stood in a few, loose groups. Several hours had passed since Velvet and Luna charged off in search of Star, leaving the rest of the manor to find some purpose. 

Pennant paced in front of the manor, her mane tied back in a tight, naval knot, and her fresh lieutenant's uniform hastily thrown on. Every turn was accompanied by a check of her heavy boarding sabre and a glance towards the horizon. Every now and then she huffed and drew to a sharp stop off to the side, remaining there several minutes before starting all over again. 

A short distance away, Tyr’s remaining foster grandmothers fretted. Whisper did her best to comfort a frantic Glitterdust, but it was clear from the tension in her own withers, it was a role she was unused to providing.

“She’s my baby,” Glitterdust half sobbed and half growled into Whisper’s neck. “I should have been the one…”

Whisper smoothed down Glitterdust’s mane with a hoof and made a comforting noise in her throat. “Hush, love, hush, there is nothing to be done now but trust in Vel.” 

“I’m a terrible mother! I should have noticed she was missing this morning. I should have… I should have… This is all my fault. If anything…” The rest of Glittedust’s words were lost as she hiccuped and buried her face deeper into Whisper. 

Hoof brushing down Glitterdust’s mane, Whisper let her presence speak the words that wanted to be formed, but got lost somewhere in her throat. Her eyes darted left to right as if she was reading a book, one that held everything she wished she could say or be, but could never muster the strength to voice. That she was outside among all the guards and staff—to say nothing of curious ponies coming up from the village—was in itself a miracle.

Then again, perhaps not.

Tyr had only known her foster family a short while. In the brief time, she’d come to realise what everypony else already knew; Glitterdust alone could break Whisper out of her shell. There were currents of tension that flowed through the room whenever Whisper was without her younger wife’s presence. 

Not that it was necessary. Velvet certainly wasn’t the type to coax Whisper from her shell. As for the younger Sparkles, Whisper carried a conflicted air, ready with a biting reproach, but shying away from happiness.

A thin smile grew as Tyr’s gaze shifted to where the stallions stood a little separated from the rest of the commotion, the household mares—Sparkles, staff, and guards alike—naturally forming a shield between them and the crowd. Mr. Cane and miss Darning moved about serving frozen sherbet, their own gazes darting occasionally up to Tyr or the next set of windows over where the twins sat, also staring down at the crowd.

It would have rankled Shining to know that he was being protected by the servants and even his sisters. Unaware, Shining conferred with his father and the captain of the Lunar guard, his own eyes fixed on the horizon and jaw set. He was so much like Velvet in his protective drive, but softer, more approachable thanks to Glitterdust. Of Whisper’s reserve, there was nothing. 

In so many aspects he was just like Tyr’s true father; Apollo, God of Duty, Protection, and Guardians. She could see him in the flowing wave of Shining’s mane as it was caressed by the breeze and the flash of determination in the cores of his blue eyes. Had he possessed wings, the image would have been complete.  

Slowly, Tyr’s smile melted into a frown.

It had been days—no, weeks—since she’d last thought of her father.

Often, it didn’t seem like he was really gone. Shining embodied him so perfectly. Too perfectly, if Tyr was being honest. All he lacked was the natural wildness of an alicorn when they unfurled all their might, the ground trembling as he passed. 

Not for the first time, Tyr suspected the hoof of the Moirai involved in all that happened. From the war that decimated so much of Gaea to Tyr’s banishment and fostering, the hags had to not only have known, but manipulated events. She wondered if Star’s disappearance was also part of their design. Though, what advantage or need the Fates had in having a filly go missing stumped Tyr. 

There was nothing Tyr could do about the Moirai even if they were somehow involved. They were the Fates, and everypony from her old home knew it was best to avoid the trio. Shaking off the worries, she returned her attention to the ponies out her window.   

In his best smoking vest, unlit pipe clenched between his teeth, Comet watched the gathering ponies with thinly veiled dislike. 

“Vultures,” he’d muttered, just as he had when the first had shown up. “Looking to curry any sort of favour from the House. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t give a whit for my Star or her safety. Tartarus damn the lot.” 

“It’s not like any of us are helping either, father,” Two-Step shrugged and shuffled his hooves a little. “Mother and the princess…”

“I’m well aware they’ll find Star. I wish she wouldn’t cast us aside as if we were useless. Just like her to rush off half-loaded.” He stamped a hoof and shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “This is the Summer Solstice all over again. Or Belladonna. At least this time there is no pony for her to duel.”

Next to them, Shining winced and gave his father a sour frown. “Mother is not that bad.”

“I don’t know Shiny, you have to admit that she has a penchant to act before thinking,” Two-Step said.  

A carriage trundling up the lane cut off any response. Shining and Tyr wore identical frowns as the carriage drew to a stop. By the time Blessed Harmony and her acolytes climbed out, she was releasing a protracted groan, chin resting on folded hooves. With quick, determined steps Blessed went to Whisper and Glitterdust and wrapped both mares in a strangling hug. While Whisper stiffened as if she’d just stepped on the tail of a snake, Glitterdust returned the hug in full force. 

Releasing them, Blessed said in a strong, carrying voice, “Do not fear, the Shepherd of the Night and Lady Sparkle will find the wayward filly. Have faith!” She then said something to Whisper that Tyr couldn’t hear. The meaning behind the words became plain when Whisper and Blessed lead Glitterdust inside the manor and up to the master bedroom.  

Tyr’s ear flicked to her door as the heavy tread of hooves passed. A few muffled voices babbled unintelligibly through the wood before the sounds retreated. 

A few minutes tumbled along, little of interest happening in the courtyard beyond Comet attempting to argue with one of the younger acolytes about something. Uninterested, Tyr didn’t care to listen, letting all the conversations merge into a single, low babble of noise. 

Sneezing, Tyr decided to abandon the window sill. There would be no mistaking when Velvet and Luna returned with Star, and neither would be happy that she’d been hanging her head out the window. If not for all the ponies being more worried about Star than herself, Tyr was certain somepony would have told her off about catching a chill, or some other nonsense. 

The windows had just given a satisfied click as they were shut when a knock sounded from her door.

Certain who’d be on the other side, Tyr hopped back into bed before calling out, “Enter.” 

“My, my, that is a comfy fort you’ve made for yourself,” Blessed said as she stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her.  

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tyr stated, though she was more curious than reproachful in her tone. 

She’d seen the Revered Speaker before, during Twilight’s presentation ceremony, though they hadn’t spoken. Everypony did remarkably well in keeping Tyr away from the various priestesses. It wasn’t hard to detect the dislike within the two families for the sisterhood. The root cause was another matter, and one Tyr had little interest in pursuing, if she was being honest.

She’d thought about sneaking away to Notra-Dame de la Chanson—Our Lady of Song—to see if petitioning the Namegiver would help her find her own domain and mark. Word of a ritual used to commune with the goddess had reached Tyr’s ear shortly after her fostering. The idea of communicating with an unknown goddess that claimed to be a Fate, in one of her own temples, didn’t sit well with Tyr, and the idea had been abandoned.

Then there was the simple fact that it was near impossible to escape the constant eyes watching her every move. By the time the guards and her foster family had begun to relax their vigil, Tyr had been half-way towards Sparkledale.

“I was ordered to come. My assistance will be necessary soon. But, I get ahead of myself.” Blessed wore a very familiar expression, stoic resolve flowing from every movement and glance. Sometimes, Tyr wondered if priestesses were allowed to show anything other than a quiet severity. It was a look that made her missing wings itch with longing for her lost home. “But, where are my manners? My name is Blessed Harmony,” she said as she took Velvet’s usual seat at the bedside.

“I know.” 

It took Tyr a few moments to remember that it was polite to respond in kind. By the time her words began to form, however, Blessed was already speaking again. “Well, I wanted to get to know you a little. Now, I know you are not what Cadence and everypony else claim. Or rather, their story is a half-truth, at best. Your real parents never met the Heartbinder nor her current husband, for instance. Nor did they die in some shipwreck off the Crystal Coast.”

Tyr wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be impressed or afraid. She settled on merely annoyed at having painful memories dredged up.

“My parents are dead. What does it matter as to how?” Tyr spat the words out, but they felt wrong in her mouth. The ‘How’ was important. It was of paramount importance, because her father had been killed, and the pony responsible remained free and unpunished. And her real mother’s fate was entirely unknown. 

Maybe.

There was the whole top of the mountain being pummeled by a hundred falling stars. Tyr had watched them screaming through the night as they were wrenched from their homes. She’d felt the magic involved as she’d huddled on Artemis’ back, her cousin launching a stream of silver arrows from her bow at the onrushing hordes of Ares’ armies. 

Ares himself had been somewhere nearby in the Citadel as it was razed. Tyr had been captured at one point, and had been rescued only a few moments earlier by Artemis and her champion, the halla prince Lepidus.

Tyr wondered if anypony in the Citadel had survived the cataclysm visited upon it that night. It could take centuries, or even a millennium, but Tyr was certain she’d find the truth someday, and if those responsible were still at large…

She twisted the edge of her covers as a wave of searing anger spread down her legs and into her hooves. Anger that evaporated as Blessed pushed herself up in her chair with slow laughter.

“Ah, to be young, in heart and body, if not in the number of years.” Blessed hummed with a little, sad crinkle in the corners of her eyes. “The Weave shows that the ‘Why’ is often as important as the ‘What’ and ‘How’ events transpire. Intention shapes us all, but it will shape you all the more.”

“What do you mean?”

Blessed was slow to respond, picking her words with great care. “Your arrival was… unexpected. The Namegiver gave no forewarning to the sisterhood of your coming, or what role you would play in the world. It surprised me a little, I admit, as she has always at least kept the Revered Speakers apprised of events that will affect Her little ponies. We often have no role to play in these events beyond keeping the calm and providing a gentle point of normalcy. All the sisters felt your Fostering as Celestia commanded Her to bind your essence into a mortal coil.” Taking a pause to help straighten some of Tyr’s covers, Blessed hummed a few bars of a song before continuing. “There are two that will be Fostered in the spring, with preparations already underway.”

“If Celestia does the ritual, why do you have to prepare?” Tyr wondered aloud. 

“The act of fostering an alicorn puts a strain on the Weave, and as Her servants, it is the duty of the sisterhood to correct any damage She cannot see to Herself,” Blessed explained with a patience born of having answered the question many times. “Fostering bends and warps the Weave in order to protect the recipient. Ponies are moved, their paths altered to create a… safe corridor, of sorts. To my knowledge, Luna strained her fostering to the very limits, almost breaking the Weave a few times.”

Tyr grimaced at the thought of risking the Weave so casually. Then another thought blossomed; if Faust was the goddess responsible for tending to the Weave, then she was one of the Lost Alicorns. She wracked her memories for the scraps she’d gleaned on the Lost Alicorns. There was very little, the subject a sore one among the remaining original gods. Of what she did know, when coupled with Faust as the Namegiver and tender of the weave, meant Faust had to be the missing Goddess of Harmony. While, technically, not one of the Moirai, the Goddess of Harmony was supposed to work with the troublesome trio to maintain the flow of history. 

A spell that could alter the weave at all was dangerous. The idea that it was the Goddess of Harmony responsible for the spell made Tyr’s head spin and stomach lurch. Tension flooded down her legs and into her hooves so she twisted her covers into a knot. 

Even more troubling, it meant that the Revered Speaker was a Seer. No wonder everypony gave her such a wide berth; much like dealing with the Moirai, it was a task of fools and the desperate to consort with a seer, and hope for an honest answer. 

“Are you okay, deary?”

“No,” Tyr answered truthfully, her grip slow to relax. “Do you know if I get my vengeance?”

Blessed tilted her head and gave a little ‘tut-tut’. “Revenge, is it? That’s not good. Not from you, of all ponies.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I have vengeance? Achlys, Ares, Hades, or even Hera herself; I don’t care! They, and so many others, are responsible for my parents' deaths, and I will see them suffer for their crimes as I have suffered.” Tyr breathed heavily following her short tirade. The shame she felt for blurting out the dreadful names was far less than the rage making her entire body shake. 

“You’ll understand soon enough, I think.” Blessed reached over and patted Tyr on the back. The priestess’ touch was like ice, dousing Tyr’s anger so that not even sizzling embers remained. 

Wobbling a little at the suddenness of the shift, Tyr groggily looked up at Blessed. “What…? How did you do that?”

“A little trick the Namegiver showed me, nothing more.” Blessed gave a mischievous wink and started to pull back the layers of covers. “Princess Luna and Baroness Velvet have returned,” she said just as a commotion rose from the courtyard. “Come, let’s go greet them together.”

“What is your game?” Tyr asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her tone and eyes as she wriggled out from beneath the wonderful warmth of her quilts. The late spring air dripped liked melting ice on her withers, making her shiver and sniff.  
   
“No ‘game’, beyond the one the Namegiver makes us all play.”

Harumphing, Tyr bundled one of the lighter covers over her back, giving her the appearance of a miniature, purple spotted glacier. Scootching along so as to keep as much warmth as possible within the cover’s folds, and because it was fun, she made her way out into the hallway. Part of her wanted to make little train noises, but that was far too undignified for a goddess and had to be the fever affecting her mind. It certainly wasn’t caused by the relief unknotting her stomach at hearing Luna and Velvet were back with Star, which meant the filly had to be okay.   

Her relief was short lived as she was led, not towards Star’s room just down to the left, but instead to the master suites. She hesitated at the threshold, some sense of intruding on a sacred domain pinning her to the spot. 

Through the doorway, she could see Velvet slumped in a lounge. Dirt clung to her coat and her mane hung in tangled strands, giving her a haggard, weary air further heightened by the guilt in her eyes. Chin on the legrest, Velvet reached over to stroke Star’s mane, the filly laying close to the edge of the large bed. Glitterdust lay beside her daughter humming an old lullaby. Other members of the family stood along the walls or hovered near the bed’s edges. To one side Luna conversed with the town’s doctor, the stallion frozen in the process of either taking off or putting his hat back on. 

“Your services are hardly necessary, doctor,” Luna said, indicating the door with a wing. “Baroness Sparkle has already tended to her physical harm, and there is little medicine or magic can do for Star’s spirit. The rest is up to the filly. Poking her with your spells or bleeding her will accomplish nothing.”

“Bleeding her? This is not the dark times of the Classical Period, Madam! Next, you’ll suggest her humours are out of balance—”

“They are.”

“—and… what?”

“They are out of balance.” A mischievous glimmer flitted behind Luna’s eyes. “But it is nothing some hollyhock and mugwort won’t fix. In the meantime, why don’t you rest in the gardens with the rest of the gawkers from the village. I hear that lunch is to be provided, as well as some little cakes. This, however, is now a matter for family. If your services are required, rest assured, you will be summoned at once.”    

Grumbling at being so summarily dismissed, the doctor shoved his hat on his head and trotted out of the room with nostrils flared and tail snapping. As he passed Tyr and the Revered Speaker he performed a little nod of the head by way of greeting, but didn’t slow. 

“Your Divine Highness.” Blessed performed a deep bow to Luna on entering the room. “It is good to see you found Miss Sparkle.”

To which Luna responded with, “Revered Speaker Harmony, it is a pleasure to see you out of Canterlot. I take your presence to mean mother is up to her games again.”

Though the words themselves could be construed as almost pleasant, never had Tyr heard a phrase given such an undercurrent of threat and dislike. The only parallel she could draw were the stories she had heard of audiences with an angered Hemera. 

With a pleasant laugh, Blessed shrugged off Luna’s comment. “The Namegiver is always playing the game, ma’am. I am just one of her pawns, moving as She requires.” 

Luna nearly said more, but was drawn away by a long, hacking cough from Tyr. The filly’s entire body shook with the force of the coughs, each leaving her weakened and dizzy, stomach churning as though she were about the retch. Every head in the room swung towards her, some frowning at the disturbance, but most etched with concern. 

At once Luna was at her side, a wing draped over her. She rubbed Tyr’s back in a slow, circular motion until the coughing subsided. Wheezing and swallowing some of the bile collecting in her mouth, it was several minutes before the room stopped spinning.  

“It’s getting worse,” Luna said to herself while helping Tyr onto a narrow bench usually used for putting on shoes. “Mother, if you are doing this on purpose, when I get my hooves on you…” 

Behind her foster grand-mother’s eyes, Tyr traced the patterns of ancient, simmering anger. Silent guesses haunted her own heart. She wondered if the chief goddess of Ioka was punishing her for coming to the disc unannounced, seeing her as a thief flitting in through a window to steal a noble daughter’s jewels. The alicorns of Gaea would not have permitted such tresspasses. They would have razed mountains and sunk islands into the sea to warn the interloper. 

That the Namegiver wasn’t so different from the family Tyr had known was something of a comfort, and it made her smile in spite of her growing illness. All was as it should be. Ioka had its oddities in Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight; but those four could be dismissed as exceptions brought about by the absence of true godly influence. They had few rivals for the devotion of the masses. Nothing compared to the dozens of greater gods, hundreds of intermediaries, and the innumerable lesser entities that served them, covering Gaea with their squabbles and wars. 

Velvet’s tale of waking the Queen in Stone only further comforted her. To Tyr, it was the most normal of things. The sisters, Iridia and Faust, had broken into a feud, ending with Iridia sealed by some great curse. It was very similar to the snippets Tyr had learned of Nightmare Moon and reminded her so much of the her family’s own feuds.  

She mentioned none of this, of course. Instead she smiled once she was able and asked after Star. 

“She is… unwell.” Luna clicked her tongue, then abandoned whatever thoughts she’d been turning over with a slight roll of her wings. “In truth, she should be dead, but a thane took pity on her.”
  
“A thane?” gasped the twins and Two-Step, all three looking at Velvet with awe.

“What’s a thane?” Adamant asked Spike, the latter shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. 

“Nothing little colts need to learn about,” Glitterdust responded before anypony could explain. She shot warning glances to Velvet, Luna, and Whisper. 

Her head a little foggy, the nature of the warning found no purchase, and Tyr said, “They guide the dead to one of the five Rivers of Souls to be taken to Tartarus or Elysium. I never cared much for thanes. There have been incidents on Gaea where they grant favours to mortals and cause all sorts of chaos, instead of just doing their job. Grandmother Sparkle has accrued many such favours, I think.” Tyr stifled a little giggle. “I get that feeling from the way she talks of her past. She dwells too much on the bad though. Her guilt is very heavy.”

Luna watched her from the corner of her eye, while Blessed merely nodded in silence. “You can sense this?”

“I… I just get that feeling from her, especially when she talks about her friends,” Tyr mumbled and shrank a little into her quilts. “But, she is Spring’s champion. It is no wonder she has been surrounded by great deeds and death. That is always a champion’s fate.”

“I am not a champion.” Velvet snorted and snapped her tail, scattering loose dirt and a few clumps of clay mud. “I am the Sorceress.” 

A light laugh rolled from Blessed, the Revered Speaker rocking back in her place with growing mirth. “It is possible to be both, you know. Clover the Clever was the Sorceress of her time, as well as the Element of Magic. Before her there was Marelin the Forgotten—not to be confused with the much more well known Marelin—who served as the Element of Wisdom in addition to being an Arch-Wizard, the founder of memoramancy, and being an accomplished summoner. In effect, she too was ‘the’ sorceress.   

“And why do you think you can’t be a champion just because you carry another title as well?”

“Champions are heroes. They sacrifice to save other ponies without thought of themselves. I was a villain.” Velvet patiently explained, much to the chagrin of most present. 

While all the younger Sparkles were ready to defend their mother, it was Luna who snorted loudest. “Ha! If that were true the disc would be a far different place.” Luna slashed a wing for added emphasis. “I know some of your past, and a villain would not have woken Iridia. Rather, she would have sought to steal the queen’s power; to her own downfall.”

Velvet made a sour face, and snapped, “Then you are a fool, Your Highness.” She did not soften or apologize at the striking silence that followed her declaration, nor the stares leveled on her by every pony present. 

“No, I merely set the bar higher than pettiness and self-indulgence,” Luna retorted. She seemed to grow larger in her corner of the room. Tyr trembled, having seen truly angry gods many a time. Experience told her Luna was on the tipping edge. “I need not hear the rest of your story to know there is nothing in it that will dispute these facts; it was you who awoke Iridia, and you shook the disc to make it happen. How many died? A thousand? Ten thousand? Perhaps a hundred thousand? With Faust knows what else was destroyed in the process. Pah, that is paltry. Remember with whom you speak. When I was a filly, poets would have written epics in thy name, monuments built to carry the glory of thine actions through the ages. Queens would vie to marry their line to thine own in hopes of adding either power or prestige to their lineage. Armies would be heaped at thy hooves to be led in wars and battles to reclaim the western reaches. You, through strength of hoof and heart, freed a goddess from a curse leveled by another goddess. A villain; it is thou who hast no claim to such a title.”

Tyr was certain that at any moment Selene’s power would strike the manor and reduce it, and everything for a league, into dust. Through where she leaned up against Luna, she could feel the building pressure of divine wrath eager to be released. It crackled, making her skin crawl and mane stand on end. 

“But, did you murder your best friend in cold blood? Can you hear her final words every evening you lay your head to go to sleep? And each time, does a knife of guilt twist deeper into your heart because you would do it again?”

“Yes.” The reply, so simple, carried a weight formed and nurtured over centuries. “There are aspects of my past not mentioned in the Book of Selene. Things kept hidden from Celestia. Even mother, for all her sight, does not know everything.”  

“Is that even possible?” Elegant whispered to Melody a little too loudly, and drawing a hissing rebuke from her sister.

Without a pause for the slight interruption, Luna continued, “If you are so certain we will think you a villain, then, by all means, finish your story. Do not be surprised when I find it lacking. Remember, I have been a true villain.”

Velvet chewed on her lip a little, gaze darting around the room to her family one by one. “It is not a part of my story I think appropriate for foals.” A deafening chorus of protests burst forth at this statement. Velvet waved the children down, and pointedly said, “But it is better to hear it from me than second hoof. Should it be too much, I will end it, however. This is me when I was at my worst. So… Where was I? Yes… Yggdrasil.”

 





Located in the furthest reaches of the north, beyond any lands that could be considered suitable for civilization, deep in the heart of the glacial cap that forms along the leading edge of the disc, sits one of the most marvelous wonders Ioka possesses. An oasis of life in the desolate cold, the First Vale hides a wealth of beauty and magic from the rest of the disc. 

It is not a place meant for ponies. 

Through a layer of vines, the white of the glacier walls could just barely be seen. Northern rocs nested within the ice, the giant birds peering out over the vale with their ebony eyes. Trees of every sort clung close to each other, creating a dense copse that constricted movement to a few paths, all of which lead to the vale’s heart. I saw oranges in bloom next to pineapple and agave plants, their trunks surrounded by fern and grass, roses blooming amid tulips and sunflowers. 

And there, sitting atop a slight hillock, was the First Tree. 

A craggly ancient thing, long, willow stems dangled from a canopy of broad, three pointed leaves. As the summer was growing late, fruits the colour and sheen of polished gold clung to the branches beneath blossoms of crystal bells. Chiming music lifted from the tree at the slightest sway or touch of the warm breeze swirling about the vale. 

Beneath the tree stood Sombra at a rocky altar, his eyes closed and magic dancing around his horn. With him were the survivors of Juniper’s grove, the dryads swaying from side to side as they listened to a song only they could hear. At my approach the dryads broke out of their trance, and turned to face me and Sylph.  

“You should not be here,” Sombra said not looking up from his work. “This is a holy place.”

“Yet, you may profane it for your own ends?” I snarled, digging my hooves into the soft, loamy earth and drawing Llallawynn.

He let out a snort and the dryads cringed and shrunk away from us. “I mean to protect this place, and by extension the entire disc, from your madness, Velvet Sparkle.” 

Sylph shook her head, and sighed. “It is not madness, it is necessary. The halla are dying—” 

“A battle of their own choosing, dear heart.” Sombra cut her off with a stamp of a hoof. “We both tried to steer them away from this outcome. But she,” he thrust a hoof at me, “needed her army to clear a path. It is on her hooves their blood rests, not ours!”

Sadness creasing the corner of her eyes, Sylph said, “You know I am not speaking of the battle, but of my race as a whole. Without our queen we wither, like the vine in a drought. Our roots parched of life, few and fewer healthy fawns are born each year. Once the Eternal Herd numbered in the millions, now we claim but a few holdings. Every gathering fewer herds appear, swallowed by the taiga. Entire lodges have vanished. If not for my fellow Foxes none would know of the proud Orca, who ventured to far off lands to trade, or the cunning Coyote that acted as ambassadors to nations as distant as Neighpon. Even the Wolverine, who maul and maim the monsters in their lairs, are all but extinct now when they are most needed.” 

“You put far too much faith in legend and song.” Sombra snapped his tail and shifted his stance a little into a more dominant pose. “I knew your Queen when she was still flesh, and while I agree the disc requires her continued existence, it does not require her freedom. She will not help you or the halla. And, she will never deign to heal a half-pony.”

He turned to me with a fierce snarl. “Unicornkind will be doomed if she is released.”  

I thrust an accusatory hoof at Sombra. “Was it not you who caused all unicorns to lose our very dreams? Was it not you who unleashed the curse that killed how many fawns? The only evil here is you!”

He stood silent for some time after my accusations, face impassive and cold. Eventually he let out a slow breath and nodded.

“You are not wrong. Nor do you go far enough. The atrocities I committed in my youthful folly would make even your blood run cold. But, here? Now? I have looked into the mirror, and I have seen the monster therein, and I swore to atone. From here, I will return dreams to the unicorns. I will keep the vale safe. And the mad tyrant will continue to sleep.” 

Sombra set his head high and stared down on me with blazing certainty. “The Queen must remain in stone.” He thumped a hoof to his chest. “As I have done in the past, I will protect what she once represented, not what she became. It is my penance; mine! Just as to be trapped within stone is hers.”

“No, Sombra, she needs to be freed.” Sylph moved up a few steps so she was in front me. “The Halla need their queen. We are withering away without her. How many generations until we are gone for good? She has sent to us a White Hind, and only through freeing her may the fawn be saved. Perhaps that was her intent all along, or perhaps not. I can not say. What I do know is that the age of her imprisonment must come to a close and Spring must bloom.” 

She took a few steps closer, Sombra shying back an equal measure. He pressed his ears back and frowned, unable to look her in the eye.

“What is more; Namyra must be released.”

“You’ll die.” He stated in a tired voice. “You saved me. You brought me back to this world. Made me care about more than just myself and being a ghost on the fringes of history. I can not repay this debt with your death. We will find another way to free her.”

Tears verged on the edges of her eyes, and she said in a very tired voice, “Would you doom her to be our slave? You may be able to accept eternity at the cost of a single foal, but I can not. You must let her go.”

“It is not her I can’t give up. It is you!” Sombra shouted back at Sylph. “To free her, you must die, and I can not lose you. If it was my life alone to sacrifice, I would do so. But you are innocent!” 
 
Rolling my eyes, I let out a little, annoyed whiny. “Namyra; I don’t care one iota about her. I came to get a cutting from the tree, and I shall do so now.” I reached for the Golden Shears in Sylph’s saddlebags. Almost at once, my magic was subsumed by Sombra’s own, snuffed out like a candle with no air.

“Are you truly so naive?” He shook his head and moved around the altar. “The Queen is cunning and old. She’s been manipulating you for years, and look at the twisted thing you are so close to becoming, if you have not already. Wake her and all ponies will suffer. Take your daughter to Equestria. Settle on the distant southern shores where the winters are mild and she will live without need of a tyrant’s blessing.”

“Velvet, I think it best if you back away,” Sylph said over her withers to me before refocusing on Sombra. 

I stared at Sylph’s back, hearing what was said, but not caring for the words. No goodness remained in my heart. At what point the change came I can not say, but all I could see looking at Sylph was an obstacle. Worse, what I saw and heard told my twisted mind that she had become a threat. My best friend was something in my path that needed removing. And there was only one way I knew how to remove an impediment to my goal.

For years I’ve tried to understand what leaps and bounds my logic took to reach the conclusions it settled upon. There was much I could have done. I could have stunned her, put her to sleep, or summoned chains to bind her to the spot. Or, I could have simply waited. She was on my side, arguing for the all that I wanted. But, I had no patience when my prize was so close at hoof. There were dozens of options open to me, but only one that I could see.  

The only conclusion I have been able to reach is that I am a bad pony at my core. Honesty, Laughter, Generosity, Kindness, and most certainly, Loyalty; these were things I entertain only when convenient. The moment they conflict with my own goals I still cast them aside. On that occasion, I was deep within the Dark Runes’ thrall, and there wasn’t a sliver of harmony left in my heart. 

A flick of my magic and it was done. Llallawynn pierced Sylph through the back. The point burst from just beneath her collar. Crimson sprayed across Sombra’s face. She fell. Tumbled into Sombra’s hooves. To my unending disgust and shame, I thought what I’d done was what she wanted.  

Sombra collapsed with her, holding her tight, disbelief twisting his features. “No,” he whispered, over and over. His hooves sought to stem the flood pouring over his legs. Magic flickered around the wound, but there was no pony nor spell that could counter Llallawynn’s work. 

“No!” Sombra shouted, renewing his efforts, to no added effect.  

It was impossible. Even the most potent of the ancients’ healing magics would not have been able to undo what I’d done.

“Take her… Take her… Take her and set her free. Undo the dreamer’s prison, old one.” Sylph’s gripped Sombra’s hoof tight, and turned just enough to look back at me. “I forgive you, my friend.”

I stared, impassive, as the light left her eyes.







“You murdered your friend?” Tyr yelled, her hooves tight as they gripped the legrest of the chaise she shared with Luna. 

The appalled expressions on everypony did little to stop the tired laugh that broke from Velvet. She shook her head slowly, muttering under her breath something in halla, and then looked up at Tyr with a hard light in her eyes.

“Yes, I did.” There was such cold simplicity in the admission that it chilled Tyr. 

“How could you?” Star moved away from Velvet, pressing herself closer to Glitterdust. “I don’t understand.”

“Sweetheart, I was a very wicked pony back then.” Velvet pointedly looked at her family and guests. “I only ever felt anything when something I thought was mine was in danger of being taken. The moment I thought she was an impediment, all my compassion vanished. Even now… there is a certain ruthlessness required to reach the position our House enjoys, and then to maintain that perch.” 

Velvet gave a long sigh and found her hoof taken by Whisper, her wife trying her best to smile comfortingly. 

“In raising you, I—we, hoped to do better, to allow you to be a better pony than us. Tartan had the necessary qualities, and Sateen…” Velvet’s voice trailed off and she winced, as did most of the family. Fresh tears sprang up in the twins eyes, while Glitterdust and Whisper both grew downcast. 

“Wait, why didn’t Sombra’s magic work?” Spike asked, raising a claw as though he were in class. “There have been other times in the story where ponies have been hurt and then healed with magic. I… just want to know.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Luna who explained. “Llallawynn’s edge carries magic that amplifies the intent of she who wields her, assuming her magic functions the same as when she were flesh. The very nature of a star is to grant wishes, and the more powerful the wish, the greater the effect. It is not surprising that such a wound, caused by such a betrayal, would have resisted Sombra. He also wasn’t very well versed in the school, at least when I knew him.

“How long did it take you to understand what you’d done?” Luna asked thoughtfully, her eyes especially intense and scrutinizing.

Velvet pinched her brow as she tried to remember the precise moment. Her eyes became unfocused, drifting back to the vale and that terrible moment she’d realised how low she’d truly fallen. When she spoke, she fell back into her story at once, but it wasn’t with the passion of before. It was slower, more careful, and tinged with immeasurable pain and self-loathing.  







It was her eyes, and the forgiveness I did not deserve that faded along with her life. I stared into their glassy surface and saw my reflection. It was then I realised what I’d become.

My hooves began to tremble and I fell back. Llallawynn slipped from my grasp, and never again would she answer my call. I’d betrayed everything, everypony. I was the villain, driven by selfish desires. In the beginning it had been about saving River. Not so at that moment, as I stood with my best friend’s blood pooling around my hooves. I could not even recall my daughter’s face or the sound of her bleating and even her name was some tattered memory I had to struggle to grasp. 
 
When precisely the shift had happened I can not say. Was it when I gained my first taste of the Dark runes’ powers beneath Gamla Uppsala? Or when I stood in the arena and watched Juniper die? Could it have been when I tore Prince Selim’s soul to shreds and consumed the remnants? It was certainly long before we’d reached the Sunstone. 

Or were they all just steps along the same path? 

Even if the runes had guided me, they were not to blame. No more than a wolf can be blamed for catching a foolish pony in the woods who was not paying attention to her surroundings.

There was no collapse, no cries of ‘what have I done’ or anything else of that nature. 

I took a deep breath and looked up at Sombra with defiance.  

“No. No. No, no, no…” He rocked back and forth, holding Sylph’s head to his breast. 

Magic flickered between them, a little ghostly wisp flowing from her to him as he laid her down gently. 

Sombra stiffened then rose up, wreathed in flames and smoke. Beneath his coat his skin glowed in a bed of fresh embers. Tears streaked down his face, burning bright as iron poured fresh from a forge. Wings sprouted from his back, dark and leathery with veins of brilliant gold, as his tail became thick and strong enough to crush the trunks of old growth trees. A bullwhip crack filled the vale at the snap of his tail and completion of his transformation.     

 “So,” he rumbled, twitching his new claws, “this is what it feels like to have what you love stolen from you.” Sombra sucked in a rattling breath and the scales of his breast glowed with his flame. “I too forgive you, Velvet. Never should I have allowed it to reach this point. I should have stopped you some time ago, but I’d hoped you were stronger. Strong enough to see what you were becoming and find a path home.

“Yes, I forgive you, but I can not let you live. The evil you seek to spread will bring only misery. Once you are dead, we will seal the vale and the Dreamer will be released.” Turning his head just enough to the side, he said to the dryads cowering beneath the tree, “Guard Yggdrasil.” 

Cocksure and broken as I was, I merely grinned and quipped some idiotic thing like, ‘Try your best’ before I charged and summoned my magic. My charge faltered at once, my magic slipping off Llallawynn as if I were trying to hold smoke with my hooves.  

Sombra chuckled and took an earth shaking step towards me.

“Even Wynn rejects you.” He snarled and then let loose a gout of golden flame.

I just had time to bring up my old, worn shield to ward off his flames. The poor thing saved me, but was utterly destroyed, bursting into fiery splinters as I stumbled back. Gritting my teeth, my gaze shifted from between Sombra and the First Tree, then back again.

Weaponless and shieldless, I fell on every spell contained within my considerable repertoire.  

But, there was no spell I possessed that could equal the behemoth Sombra had become. Even with the Dark Runes, none of my magic could harm his hardened scales. I tried it all. The crystal spear I’d summoned in Gamla Uppsala shattered upon his breast. My leaches scratched along his hide, unable to find a shred of life-energy to consume. A single sweep of one wing dispersed my ravens, and a crash of his taloned feet scattered my ursta into broken pebbles. 

All the while I dodged left and right to avoid the great thuds of his tail, or the slashes of his talons. But it was his flame I feared the most. 

Much of the vale was alight, the unimportant trees bursting into orange pillars like so much kindling. Around us, sap boiled in crackling snaps and pops. The air grew heavy and choking, and my eyes stung from the thick, black smoke.

Again and again, I reached for Llallawynn, and again and again, the sword rejected my aura. 

In one, last, desperate bid, I reached, not for Llallawynn, but Sombra’s own discarded sabres.

Both answered my call at once, flying from where they’d been dropped to my sides. With the blades close, I dashed ahead, using an already burning log as cover. Jumping over it, I slashed with the twin swords. Neither so much as scratched Sombra, and with a jarring backhoof slap he sent me tumbling. 

My head hit the ground hard, stars blinding me with their little bursting lights for a precious few moments. 

Towering over me, Sombra drew in his breath, chest expanding with a brilliant flame as the inferno within was stoked to new heights.

I was moments from death.

And then White appeared, emerging from the flame licked underbrush. She landed between Sombra and I, her nostrils flaring and magic bright about her antlers. A fireball shot like a cannon into the stream of flames Sombra spewed. The detonation split Sombra’s breath, protecting us within the eclipse. 

“I can not hold the dragon long,” White shouted back to me as she wreathed us in a protective sheet of plasma the same colour as her namesake. “Where did it even come from? Where are Sombra and Sylph? Shouldn’t they be here?”

I didn’t bother answering. 

Searching the burnt landscape around us, I wracked my head for anything to use against Sombra. Any spell or weapon. The only thing that came to mind, absurdly so as we stared down death, was the off-hoof mention of a name some time before.

The spell was relatively simple, all things considered. 
 
It was merely a name coupled with a pull, much like I’d mastered with all my other summons, a single rune used as an anchor.

A name that promised me the aid I required to defeat Sombra.

A name I should not have uttered. 

“Abaddon!” I roared, planting my hooves. 

Sombra’s molten eyes widened, his mouth falling from a victorious grin into a grimace of surprise. 

For several moments we waited.

And nothing happened.

There was no lightning, no thunder without a storm, nothing to indicate that my call had been heard. 

“And so, the prophecy is proved false?” Sombra snarled, taking a step forward to lord above us. “Or, it was never about you at all. You committed such sins, Velvet the Betrayer; and for naught!”

Incensed at the glee curling around Sombra’s words like viperous fangs, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Abaddon. Angel of Destruction, I call upon you. Come to me and wreak your wrath onto my enemy. I demand it, Abaddon!” 

Anywhere else on the disc and my call would have been utterly futile. Such was the nature of the First Vale that the boundaries between the disc and the other realms are thin and permeable. There alone my summons could be heard.  

A sound like the rush of drums was the first indication my summons had been answered. At first, I thought they were only in my imagination, spurred by greedy need. They grew and swelled until the loose stones underneath our hooves bounced from the force of their reverberations. White and I took several long steps away from Sombra, while he looked about in fright.

And then they were gone and all was silent.

In the heartbeat following the drums’ disappearance there was a shattering peal of a horn. The ground split, tearing a gap through the vale and into the glacial walls, scattering the nesting rocs. Sulphurous gas snarled and hissed from the fissure, driving everypony back. Locusts, an endless swarm of locusts, each the size of a sparrow, buzzed between the bursts of gas, forming a cloud that snaked and spun through the vale before blotting out the sun. 

For a moment I believed that was the end, and I collapsed to my knees, when from the fissure came a howl, like the screams of a thousand bereaved mares.

“What have you done?” Sombra slowly backed away from the fissure, and for the only time I saw him afraid. Truly afraid.

A wing, mottled white and grey, stretched skyward trailing ropes of poisonous aether. It was joined by a second, then four more, unfurling as the howl repeated. Argali horns crested the rim, their curved spirals hung above long, tapered ears, a mane of dark blue curls dancing down a powerful neck. On and on she rose, until she towered above me, her three leonine tails snapping whips above the closing fissure. 

Through the swirling swarm of locusts, I caught only glimpses of Abaddon. She was terrible and beautiful to behold, a being of immense strength and age, her coat shone brighter than polished alabaster, broken only by a cloudy blue streak that flowed from her mane to her flanks. There, in a fading ruby glow, was a sigil constantly swirling, formed from runes no mortal eye could comprehend. 

Abaddon swept her gaze slowly across the vale, her shadow devouring me. If I stood on my hind hooves, my horn would have barely whispered through the fur on her chest. Her eyes of golden light bored into me, ignoring Sombra entirely, with a look so furious my legs trembled and I backed up a few steps.

I had to snap my eyes shut and turn away. To look on her true form was to invite madness, and if not for the locusts sheathing her like a chittering veil, I would have been struck down by the mere sight of her. 







“You really summoned Aba—” Tyr clamped her mouth shut, eyes fearfully darting to the windows. “One of the Seraphim? That isn’t possible.”

The rest of the room was more amused than surprised, with Shining beginning to teasingly chastise his daughter, only to be interrupted by Luna’s soft nicker of amazement.

“It was you?” Luna stared in wonder. “You brought her to Ioka?”

A long, disgusted snort broke from Tyr. “No, she didn’t! She couldn’t. I just said it isn’t possible. No mortal, nor god, could entice a seraph from Elysium. There is nothing capable of such a feat.”

“Ah, but Abaddon wasn’t—”

“Stop saying Her name!” Tyr hissed, again peering through the window as if expecting the seraph to appear. “If she is on the disc—which I don’t believe it is possible—but if she is, then she can hear you every time you say her name. She’ll know Luna and I are here, and…” Tyr gulped. 

“And?”

Tyr shook her head vigorously. 

“Well, perhaps it is best if you let me continue the story. Then you might know why she answered.” Velvet let a cheeky little smile flit across her features before she took a deep breath. 







Abaddon swung her head slowly around, her expression gradually morphing into one that was calm and unconcerned, taking in all the destruction around her. I shivered as those golden eyes passed over me on their way to White, and then up to Sombra. 

The seraph stepped over me. A mere touch of her shadow was as if a hundred ponies were walking over my grave. I quivered, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw White prostrate herself in the scorched earth.

Abaddon stopped just before Sombra. The old dragon’s sides heaved with ire and sparks puffed from his nostrils. She seemed to stare through him, and towards the tree at his back, an expression of utter serenity on her face. 

“If you mean to parley, archon, know that—”

Quick as a viper, Abaddon struck the Dreamer’s Crystal with a wing. There was a flash, and the most tremendous bang imaginable. Light exploded from the crystal with such intensity that even though I clapped my hooves over my eyes at once, I was blinded and sent tumbling through the dirt and cinders for several yards.  

When the blindness and ringing in my ears passed, I looked up to find Abaddon tending to the tree with gentle, nurturing hooves surrounded by the dryads. Running her hoof along damaged or burnt branches healed the wounds caused by my fight with Sombra. Sprigs of green blossomed into rainbow petals and the First Tree seemed to grow taller, prouder almost.

Having not said a single word, Abaddon turned from the tree and then took to the air. She circled the vale once, the rocs hiding in their rookeries shrieking up at the stranger. Then she was gone, flying off to the south and east.

I’ve kept track of her, worried about what my actions that day may have wrought; but she’s not moved from the jungles of the dark continent since taking residence within them. 

Putting Abaddon from my mind, at the time, I forced myself up on weary hooves, and along with White, made my way to where Sombra lay. He remained in his draconian form, the Dreamer’s Crystal pulsing in his chest like a second heart. Every beat of the crystal made Sombra shudder and suck in a sharp breath. I could hear his own heart, its own beats out of sync and fluttering.

With claws that trembled with fleeting strength, he tried to pull himself closer to Sylph’s body. He only managed a few yards before collapsing entirely. 

“So, you win the day after all.” Sombra let out a dry, raspy laugh that turned into a cough. “You are indeed the Sorceress, and a pox upon this world. Do what you will… Just… bury Sylph in the old way. Don’t leave her to rot. Not here.” 

“I will see it is done,” White wore a weak smile that wavered with approaching tears, “for her sake. Sylph would appreciate it, I believe. Like one of her stories.” 

Sombra nodded, reached down to the crystal and with a sharp tug he wrenched it free. Then he too was gone, the crystal falling from his limp grasp. 

Weary beyond belief, I sagged and hobbled away from the dead dragon. 

From the tree, where they’d been hiding the entire fight, descended the dryads, Old Mima in front. She eyed me with concern, her entire body trembling more and more the closer she came. Only a few strides away, she threw herself onto the charred dirt. “Sorceress, we beg you, do not hurt the First Tree.” 

Frowning, I said nothing, merely retrieved the shears and limped past the frightened dryads, and to the tree’s base. A snip and it was done, a sprig no longer than my hoof floating down to my saddlebags. Their usefulness past, I discarded the Golden Shears and started to limp towards the vale’s exit.

White emerged from the smoke, her posture as weary as my own. Yet for all the destruction around us, for all those who’d we’d lost that day, she smiled. “It is almost done. All we need do is reach Thornhaven and wake the queen, and the prophecy will be fulfilled. I hope all we have lost is worth her,” she said, but I heard the doubt in her voice. 

On reaching White a flicker of light caught my eye. Turning my head a little I spied the crystal that had given the ancient wizard so much of his power. Unsure if it’d be of use to me, my own magical reserves so low, I staggered over to it. 

Reaching down, I picked up the Dreamer’s Crystal, turning it over in my aura a few times before moving to place it in my saddlebags. A sharp jolt forced it from my grasp. I jumped back, my magic pulled into the crack where it seeped deeper into the crystal.   

Smoke spilled from the crystal in a thick stream, pouring across the ground around our hooves like water from a broken dam. It collected between White and I, swirled, and lifted itself up. Condensing, the cloud took on the shape of a filly, the contours growing more defined and opaque until it was a spectre that stood on the burnt grass. 

She looked around, confused, until noticing White and I, at which point she seemed to smile. Her mouth moved, formed words, but there was no sound. Again she tried, but still she lacked a voice we could hear. 

So, Namyra did the simplest of things to convey her message, drifted over to me, and wrapped her small, translucent hooves around my neck. Her touch was not cold, as one would expect when dealing with a spirit, but warm. As warm as the sun on a field of blossoming flowers. 

I did not deserve her gratitude. My heart was fractured, and heavy with loss and exhaustion. Had my thoughts and body not been weighted so heavy with the fatigue of all the battles and death throughout the day, I would have collapsed on the spot with grief and guilt. 

We remained that way for a minute, perhaps more, until we both knew it was time for me to go. 

Smiling, Namyra pointed to the cliffs and the rocs in their nest. The great birds shielded their nests and glared down on us, their beaks clacking with unrestrained menace, and giant talons gripping the lip of their alcoves’ edges. At the wave of her hoof, one of the rocs jumped towards us, a single beat of her immense wings propelling her across the vale. Her landing was heavy, ruddy feathers ruffling as black eyes settling on me. 

Namyra gestured to the roc, and in spite of my many, many protests, White convinced me to clamber up onto the giant’s back. No sooner was I situated, my weary hooves gripping her strong neck as tight as I could manage, than she leapt up and the rush of cold wind ripped over my face and through my mane.  

Looking back I saw Namyra’s shade dissipate. What happened to her I do not fully know. If anything these past few months have shown me with the Gaean shades, however, I do not believe she is gone. 

The dryads remain in the First Vale still. They tend to it and Yggdrasil, healing the scars I left. There they are safe, and can extend their reach to all the forests on the disc through the tree’s magic. 

Within moments we left the glacier behind and swept over the armies as the last of the dogs were put down. The halla had won the day, but at a terrible cost. Torn banners fluttered over blood-soaked earth, broken shafts of spears thrust up from the bodies of halla and diamond dog alike. On the hillocks next to the river burned the siege engines. The dogs themselves choked the river’s flow with their dead. Looking up, Holm and the vale’s guardian dragon saw me. He led his surviving Bears and soldiers in a cheer that reached up and carried me all the way south.    
	

> Part Fourteen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Fourteen


Sandwiched between Iridia and Celestia, conflicting energies and ideas flooded her, leaving Cadence’s thoughts foggy and adrift. Both alicorns pulsed with an over-abundance of magic, rivers glutted by unending rains, their banks ready to burst and sweep her towards the sea. Likewise, they both verily crackled with life, love, and warmth. 

It made concentrating on containing Abael all the more difficult. The rune circled in the back of her mind, a hungry panther among the sheep of her other runes. Cadence had thought herself well accustomed to the nature of Bright runes—she possessed over a thousand of the type—yet Abael was so much greater in all regards. It seemed to feed on the stray aether escaping her aunts. 

Relief welled in Cadence as the fields of sparkle flowers and the old manor beyond came into view. A relief short lived. The remains of the village crowd lingering on the front lawn, partaking of the manor’s hospitality, offered no good omens. Of greater concern, however, was the tangled knot of fear that permeated the usually placid strands of love. 

“Bank around,” Celestia called over to the guards pulling the chariot. “We will set down quietly in the back.” 

Appreciating Celestia’s prudence, Cadence leaned over to Iridia and said, “Hold on tight, aunty. Landings can be bumpy.” 

“Can they? Oh, good! I have such an itch in my—” The rumble of wheels hitting loose gravel, and the accompanying jolts, thankfully interrupted Iridia before she could complete her thoughts. 

Before the chariot had come to a stop a pair of Crystal Guards had stepped forward from their usual places near the rear entrance.  

“Dasher, Lightning; what is going on out front? Has there been trouble?” Cadence asked as they gave stiff salutes. 

“You could certainly say that, ma’am,” Dasher replied, his tone sharp and professional. “One of the lesser daughters went a-missin’ last night. The Baroness and Her Royal Highness have been a-trackin’ her with some conjured beasty.”

Lightning grimaced, adding, “This in addition to the news of the Baroness’ sister passing, along with her herd, out in Manehatten. House fire, they say. We doubled the patrols in case it was the first of an attack on the family, ma’am, but things have been quiet otherwise.”

Cadence grimaced, understanding why the emotions permeating the manor were so twisted. She sighed and promised to chastise herself later for failing to recognise the signs of grief when she’d checked on Shining back in Canterlot. There was no excuse for the error, even if Celestia and Iridia’s presences were affecting her sight. 

Iridia huffed and jittered her wings, eyes narrowed at one of the second story windows. “She’s being a fool again. I keep telling her…” Trailing off, Iridia marched towards the doors with more certainty than Cadence had expected. Cadence tilted her head, wondering who or what had drawn Iridia’s ire. Over her shoulder, Iridia added, “Follow my lead.”

Celestia wore a little smile that wavered between and smirk and small wonder. “So, bitterness does not hold total sway over the pleasant memories?” she absently asked the empty air before following her aunt into the manor. “I feel almost like a young mare again.”  

Cadence followed last, frozen for a moment, once again floundering to reconcile the disparity between what she expected and the reality before her. Celestia was halfway through the door before she pushed that all aside for later and followed. They trotted to the living quarters, servants giving little ‘oh’s of surprise as the queen and princesses passed. On reaching the door to Velvet’s room, Iridia stopped and snapped out a wing, signalling them to hold and wait. 

Through the door, Velvet’s voice, muffled though it was, could be heard, and from the rolling flow of her words, she was once more caught up in the telling of her story. Cocking an ear, Cadence caught Velvet say, in a gruff, raspy voice, “The queen must remain in stone.”

Rolling her eyes, Cadence moved to push past Iridia’s wing and enter the room, only to find it as unyielding as stone, and her great-aunt firmly shaking her head. 

‘Wait,’ Iridia mouthed, sparing Cadence a stern look. Looking to Celestia for support proved fruitless, her aunt peering at the door with something akin to curiosity, but also reflective and pondering. Cadence would have thought it bemusement, but Celestia did not become bemused. Only once she gave a nod of acquiescence did Iridia lower her wing and turn back to the door, drawing a second, more exaggerated eyeroll from Cadence. 

They remained there, servants silently passing by, not daring to look up at the three eavesdropping alicorns, as the story progressed, was interrupted by short lived arguments, resumed, and was broken by a spat of worried whispers from Tyr. For most of the story, Cadence frowned, glaring at the door through Iridia’s back. A smile only tugged at the corner of her muzzle at the fear filling the filly’s voice over Abaddon.

At worst, the archon was a sleepy tiger. Certainly, for a mortal to look on the seraph was to invite madness or death, but it was for that reason that she remained hidden. 

Cadence’s smile quickly returned to a frown, especially as Velvet told of Sombra’s final moments and Namyra’s brief appearance. At the mention of that name, one she’d only ever heard Celestia mutter in her most bitter and angry moments, she darted a glance to her aunt and saw… nothing. Celestia’s face was unreadable as ever, but so too was her heart. She was greeted only by the same, overpowering warmth and energy that had been pulsing from Celestia all day.

It was far easier to read Iridia. There was no need to check her bonds of Love to see the effect the story had on her. 

Iridia’s wings sagged to brush the floor, and for the first time, Cadence could nearly see the true weight of centuries hefted upon her great aunt’s back. Cadence began to extend a wing in condolence, when she was shocked by Iridia bringing up a hoof, pulling it to her chest as she took a deep breath, then pushing it away along with a whooshing exhale. 

When she’d calmed, recovering her imperious poise, Iridia pushed open the door just as Velvet finished describing her flight over the battlefield.     

The room beyond exploded in epitaphs and shock at the intrusion. Cries of ‘Your Highness!’, ‘Iridia?’, and ‘What in Faust’s mane?’ echoed around Cadence’s ears. But it was Tyr’s cry of, “Mother,” and Shining’s swift embrace she noticed most of all. 

Ignoring Iridia as she began all-but yelling at Velvet about guilt or responsibility, and causing the baroness to turn red faced, Cadence nuzzled Shining for just a moment before turning to find Tyr beneath a bundle of quilts next to Luna. 

“Love, did you find what you went looking for?” Shining asked after an appropriate length of nuzzling and a kiss. 

Nodding, Cadence started to explain where she’d gone and how she’d received Abael. The story had barely begun when it was cut short as Cadence was propelled towards the library by Iridia, with Celestia, Velvet, and Luna in their wake. 

Protests falling on deaf ears, Cadence only had time to give Shining an apologetic look before being whisked away. Once safely ensconced far from the children’s prying ears, fresh tea already waiting along with scones and jam tarts, Velvet began the true discussion. 

“So, we need to undo the Fostering. How?”

“It will take a ritual,” Cadence said, stating what everypony already knew before launching into a more detailed recounting of her conversation with Abaddon. At the end, Cadence unlocked the corner of her mind containing Abael, summoning the rune in its pure form as Abaddon had done in Phoenicia. 

As Cadence finished, magic alighted along Celestia’s horn, and she said, “And I bring my Ursëa.” 

Flames erupted from Celestia, rising from wing, mane, and horn alike into a spiralling, eight pointed shape around a central looping knot. The appearance of her aunt’s rune left Cadence speechless. She understood now where Celestia’s calm center and flames both originated. 

Clapping hooves yanked Cadence’s attention away, and Abael almost slipped from her grasp. Wrangling the troublesome rune back under full control cost her a moment, and when she opened her eyes Cadence found a similar rune floating above Iridia.

“This is my Cuil. She’s been with me… oh… since… I can’t remember.” Iridia giggled and covered her mouth. “It’s been a while since I have had cause to bring her out.” 

“Show offs,” Luna playfully grumbled, adding an exaggerated roll of her eyes. 

Staring hard at the runes, Velvet’s face morphed in a pained grimace, followed by a shudder that worked from her tail to neck.

“I know the spell…” Velvet barely whispered, but it was enough to draw everypony’s attention. Before anypony could press her for more, she grabbed a sheet of parchment, quill, and set about sketching a spell equation. 

Dismissing their runes, the alicorns gathered around Velvet to watch. 

Cadence was not well versed in higher magic. Certainly, she had more knowledge and understanding than most, but it was not a passion of hers as it was with Celestia or Twilight. Still, even a laypony would have recognised that the spell being crafted was complex and unlike anything practiced within Equestria or the Old Queendoms. 

It was a five-pointed spell, with Abael flanked by Ursea and Cuil, along with two runes Cadence had never before seen, but by their form, twisted and viciously curving inwards, they had to be dark runes. Far more curious was the lack of the base-frame-cap structure used in all modern spellcraft. The five great runes were not alone either, Velvet added more and more, entwining them this way and that in an array that would have left academics gaping and magical engineers throwing their hooves up in exasperation. 

“Oh, very good!” Iridia clapped her hooves at some segment of the spell. “An Antipodal Albedo Lattice! Amazing.” Leaning over, Iridia loudly whispered to Cadence, “Your grandmother loves using those in her spell-work too. This is true craftswork. True… Oh dear…” Iridia jittered and twisted about, much like a dog about to lay down. “Excuse me… This, this requires my attention…” And with that Iridia wandered over to a chair, where she promptly fell back deep into the flow of the Font.

Either ignoring, or having not noticed Iridia at all, Velvet moved from drawing the spell’s matrix to describing its casting equations, writing out the order and methodology and all the steps necessary to make it work. Cadence frowned as she skimmed the equations. There was something off about them, more so than the strangeness of the matrix itself. It took her a few minutes to piece together the error, for she couldn’t think of it being anything else.

“Velvet, this is beautiful,” Celestia said, her praise coming just as Cadence was about to voice her concerns. 

Surprised, Cadence pointed to the offending lines, and said, “But this… this can’t possibly work. It’s impossible for Selene to block Sol, especially at noon.”

“An eclipse, dear niece,” Iridia called from her corner, eyes remaining shut as she tended to the Font. “They were once somewhat of a thing… when my sister and I were young mares.”      

“Again?” Luna asked with an uncharacteristic whine. “The last time we dispelled Nauta Anar Isilye everypony hid inside for a month thinking Selene was about to come crashing down. I always get the blame.”

“Maybe this time we can leave it undone.” Celestia shrugged her wings as she poured over the nearly completed spell. “There isn’t much reason to maintain it anymore, except tradition. I’m sure Selene would love to stretch her metaphoric legs again and Sol could certainly use the company from time to time.”

“Well, Sol has been getting a bit strange from being alone for so long,” Luna agreed with a cheeky half-smile, swatting Celestia’s flank with her tail. Her amusement only lasted until her eyes returned to the page. “And I won’t be the Shepherd of the Night anymore—again! That’s my favourite title.”

“I know, but father gave you plenty of others as well.”

“Yes, well, I am not a pirate or reaver anymore, either.”

“If it is too much to ask, I’ll find another way of undoing my mistake.”

Cadence couldn’t help but stare at the playful back-and-forth between Luna and Celestia. It was so strange, seeing them act like sisters, almost surreal. The sisterly love between them was so strong, Cadence had trouble imagining what it had taken for them to fall out and fight all those hundreds of years before. 

“Your mistake?” Luna heaved a sharp laugh. “There you go again, thinking all Equestria rests on your withers alone. No, we harmed Tyr together, whether through inaction, or the best of intentions. We’ll help her as a family.” Cadence jumped as Luna reached out with her wings to bring both her and Celestia into a hug. “It is simply having it come so suddenly. How often do we talk about undoing the Nauta Anar Isilye, but never get around to the act?”

Shrugging off Luna, Cadence said, “I’m a little lost.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Velvet who spoke up. “This spell,” she indicated the sheets of paper in front of her without breaking stride with her quill, “needs to be cast underneath an eclipse while the Font is flooded with life giving energy. Thus enabling it to compel and empower Iridia to restore the subject of the ritual to her, or his, true-self, undoing any and all magical—and physical—effects upon the recipient. Scars will be healed, old injuries mended, and enchantments dispelled. It doesn’t sound like much, I know, but to overcome the Fostering without bringing harm to Tyr, a spell of greater power is required. There will be side-effects as well, and the cost is high.” There was a morose slump to Velvet’s posture, a weariness that hung off her like an old, weathered cloak. “My greatest work…”

“But, how? A spell like this should take years to make! And you did it within a half-hour.” Cadence shook her head in awe. “This is impossible.”

Collecting the pages and setting a duplication spell to make copies, Velvet cast off the sad air, and gave Cadence a slightly amused smirk, as she would a filly that just did something rather cute. “Part of being ‘The Sorceress’ is being able to see how magic connects. Though, I admit it’s never been this easy before.” Standing up while the transcription spell did its work, Velvet looked around the room. “We’re going to require a fifth. I’ll have to take the lead, as there’s no time for me to teach you all the Dark runes. And, even if there was, the odds of them accepting any of you again is low.” Velvet turned away from the princesses and concentrated on the Dreamer’s Crystal. “Before you ask; no, I won’t teach them to you either, Cadence.”

Pouting, Cadence wanted to say that she hadn’t entertained the idea. It’d have been a lie. 

After a glance out the window, Celestia said, “Come on Luna, we better start preparing the ritual site now.”

Luna followed Celestia towards the fields next to House Sparkle’s warding stone. The spot offered the best location for such a ritual, saturated as it was in the protective energies that had guarded over the manor and surrounding grounds over the last several centuries.

After the princesses left, Velvet started towards the door, saying, “I’ll go speak with Blessed. I imagine this is why she is here.”

And like that, a thoroughly put out and confused Cadence was left behind in the middle of the library. Only Iridia remained, though she was too lost in her duties with the Font to even notice the departures. Apparently unneeded until the ritual was ready, Cadence decided to spend the evening with her husband and foster daughter. 

She found all the foals, and a few of the older Sparkles, in Tyr’s room. It was a noisy, fractious scene, with Melody and Spike arguing over details of Velvet’s story, Adamant jumping back and forth from a chair to the bed, and Shining laughing at something Limelight had said. 

When it became apparent that Velvet wasn’t going to continue her story, Spike and Adamant decided to go play in the gardens. Tyr didn’t last long, drifting off to sleep, forcing Elegant and Melody departing for the drawing room with Limelight. With only slight prodding from Shining, Pennant pled boredom and left in search of a sparring partner to work out some of the tension of the Season. Unfortunately, before Cadence and Shining could appreciate the newfound solitude, the children were replaced by Iridia, the magic-drunk queen stumbling into the room and unceremoniously occupying the largest settee. Grumbling inwardly at the lack of privacy afforded her family, Cadence accepted the intrusion with her usual outward good graces until the dinner bell tolled. 

It was a late dinner that saw the family and guests gather once more. Hosting so many, the dining table was filled to capacity with a vast assortment of trays arrayed in a splendid feast. Refreshed by her short nap, Tyr demanded to eat at the table that night, rather than have her dinner brought up to her room again. Glitterdust did not attend, electing to remain at Star’s bedside, and with so many ponies present, Whisper hid herself away in her study. Their absence brought no comment from the younger Sparkles, beyond Elegant asking if Star was going to be alright. 

“Of course,” Comet replied with absolute certainty as the serving staff brought out dish after dish, filling the room with warm, mouth watering smells.

On having been told that she was serving almost the entire royal household, the cook had almost fainted on the spot. After recovering, she flew into a flurry that would have been met with something close to approval by the royal chefs back in Canterlot. Therefore, the meal was respectable and did no discredit to the House, though it left the pantries quite bare. 

As they ate, the predictable calls came from the younger Sparkles for Velvet to resume her story. Focusing more on the carrots in front of her than the children, Velvet clamped down on the excitement with a crisp, “Not right now.” 

“Fie, and you’d almost reached the end as well,” Iridia said with a disappointed whine. “You can’t possibly leave things as they stand.”

“There is too much to do tonight. I’m sorry, but the story will have to wait.” The way Velvet spoke, hardly lifting her eyes from her soup, told the little Sparkles that she was lying, and the story would not continue. 

Caught by surprise, a low grumble flowed from the children, Spike and Adamant going so far as to let out loud protests. Cadence wanted to ask what work there was left to accomplish, but a touch from Celestia under the table, accompanied by the slightest shake of her aunt’s head, told her stay out of the conversation. 

“What about River, though?” Melody persisted, her tone a perfect foil for Velvet’s stern bark. “At least tell us what happened to our sister.”

Velvet shoved back her chair, the heavy rattle overpowering the children’s questions. Tangled, twisted emotions burst from Velvet, scraping over Cadence’s senses like a briar patch. But, as quick as the emotions came, they were contained. 

“Excuse me,” Velvet said to the table at large, her voice flat and hard. Standing, she moved for the door at a brusque pace. Velvet, pausing, said over her shoulder, “Limelight, there are some things we need to discuss.” 

Limelight opened her mouth to protest; it was bad enough for Velvet to leave in the middle of dinner when it was just family, but to do so when nearly the entire Royal House was in attendance? She held back her tongue, though, certain that to rebel would only make the situation worse. Hastily spooning as much soup into her mouth as she could, followed her mother out of the dining room. 

“Well,” Iridia huffed as the door closed behind Limelight. “If she won’t finish the story, then I will. Let me see…” She clicked her tongue a couple times and leaned back in her chair, swirling her wine. “How to begin?  Perhaps… A little bit of… no… Oh! I got it!” She took a deep breath, and in a voice that rattled the crystal glasses in their cabinets, said, “Lo, it was many years ago that—”

“Inside voice, aunty, please!” Cadence interjected with an equally voluminous snap, then, much softer, said, “You’ll wake Star.”

“Not to mention crack the foundations,” Spike grumbled to Melody.

Blinking a few times, Iridia looked around at the Sparkles all rubbing their ears, and with a meek laugh, apologised. “Something a little less formal then…” 

 





I remember being cold the most. 

I’d been aware, in a way, of events on the disc for some time. Some, I’d seen more closely than others. The grand, sweeping events that shaped history were the clearest. Events such as when my beloved nieces fought one another after my failed attempt at atonement or when that curse was unleashed upon my dear, unsuspecting halla.

Warning them had taken much of my strength. The Elements of Harmony had sealed me within a multitude of enchantments. Breaking through the cage sapped much of my strength, and cast me back into a vast sea of dreams.  

I slept deeper than I had in several centuries that year. It was a worried, fretful sleep. For, even through my exhaustion, I could feel the sorrow of my Halla. Their anguish tore at me, and in the silent darkness, I wept for them all. 

A distant stirring woke me from my mourning.

A force gathered. A powerful, desperate call reached into my prison, gabbed my weakened form, and pulled me back to the disc.

The enchantment that had encased me for fifteen hundred years began to crack. Threads snapped, one by one, each loss weakening the whole, causing more and more to break until I was surrounded by a cacophony of light pierced by the shattered rapports of a crashing bell. Sound, true sound, roared into me. Shouts, screams, the bangs of spells, the ring of steel on steel, and above it all Velvet’s voice pleading for my favour.

Over and over again she said the same words, “Iridia gyr ibenrëon muq punamyr awöoden.”

‘Iridia, give to me the blessing of a foal.’

Chills ran down my spine like ice water dripping on exposed skin, shivers running through my wings and tail. I tried to squirm, to shake away the ice. Stone cracked and shattered, shards showering and clattering across the ground as my wings flexed for the first time in centuries. Silence returned to me, and for a dreadful moment, I wondered if perhaps what I’d heard had only been in my imagination.

Such had been common enough during the early years of my imprisonment. Phantom sounds and sensations assailed me from every direction, driving me to madness until all I could do was curl up inside myself and hope the nightmares would pass. 

I drew in a sharp breath at the fear of going through those years again, and as I did I tasted the warm summer air. 

It had been so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to fill my lungs. Greedly, I took another deep breath. I rolled those wonderful, subtle tastes the wind can carry over my tongue. So often, they are not noticed. Ask a pony what the wind tastes like, and they will look at you funny. To me, it was the most beautiful sensation. I stretched up onto my back hooves and craned my neck upwards, with wings flared wide for balance, as I took a deeper gulp of that sweet air. Pine mingled with the lingering traces of rain from the previous day, a hint of peat and ripe, wild fruit. Apples. I distinctly remember there being apples.  

But there was something else, something troubling, sharp and metallic.

Blood.

At last my eyes opened, and almost at once had to be closed again as Sol’s wonderful light stung them deeply. More cautious, I blinked away the glare, adjusting to the brightness.

What laid before me almost made me wish I’d not been awoken. 

Velvet kneeled before me on slick stones, clothed in torn robes. Dried, cracked blood clung to almost every inch of her, with patches of still wet additions giving her a terrifying visage. Ugly bruises covered her face, and a large swatch of fur was missing down one side of her neck where she’d been burned. A shield of conjured crystal, the same colour as her mane, wobbled at her side, its surface pockmarked from blocking spells and hurled spears, while on the other hovered a large sabre, blood dripping through the flickering aura upon its grip. 

Behind Velvet stood the towering form of a northern Roc, wings spread for balance and a halla pinned beneath one talon. The great bird watched, not me, but a ring of halla that filled the courtyard. 

They were clearly broken into two groups. The smaller, bedecked in robes of various quality, stood with their backs to Velvet and I, while the much larger faction stared mouths agape at me. Members of this second group began to tremble and back away, nickering in terror or throwing themselves prostrate on the worn cobblestones. Several bodies were strewn around the courtyard within which we stood, most concentrated near the shattered remains of a gate. 

I would like to say I’d never been confronted by such a sight before. 

Alas; I cannot. 

I’d both witnessed and been a party to enough desperate, last stands to recognize another.

The cloudy grey, battered pony kneeling before me had, with a small cadre of friends and followers, battled her way to my statue and enacted a spell or ritual to break my imprisonment. Along the way those guarding my statue had fought back and been killed. On the precipice of failure, the pony had completed her spell.

Admiration and guilt tugged on my heartstrings at her success, and at her having to rescue me at all. 

Slowly, I lowered myself back to all four hooves. The crunch of dirt was so novel and new, yet familiar. Memories of running through fields as a filly with my herd, my sister, my daughter and nieces, and many, many lovers all mingled together in an indecipherable mesh.  

Everyone was still and silent, watching as I shifted then scuffed a hoof. Somepony laughed, making me start and back up a half-step. It took the frightened gasps from the halla for me to realise the laugh had been my own.

I touched my throat to make sure that I had not imagined the sound, or the fresh wind that ran through my mane, tickled the fur on my face and caressed my feathers. Assured that it was all real, I again focused on the pony.

“You… freed me?” 

She returned my question with a stare, her mouth opening and closing slowly. 

Then she said something that I could not understand. It sounded a little like High Halla, but twisted around, as if somepony had taken the sounds, tossed them into the wheel of a water mill, and then poured them onto a board before decreeing that this was how things should be pronounced. 

“A moment.” I held up a hoof in the universal sign of ‘stop’, which she did, clamping her mouth shut and looking very small and frightened right then. 

From what I’ve been told, at that moment I was rather intimidating indeed. My eyes blazed with wrath and my jaw clenched and unclenched as I again took in the mayhem around me. With slow, purposeful steps I descended from the plinth on which I’d been placed for who-knows how many years. Long enough that the halla no longer knew that the statue in their courtyard was my prison, rather than the one hidden deep within their vault.

I had a good laugh about that when I learned they didn’t know that they’d hidden the wrong statue.

My movements were slow because I was terrified of losing my balance and falling. Every muscle felt gelatinous, as if I’d just ran across the length and breadth of Marethon’s plains again.

While I was unsure of the specifics, I knew that I’d never get to the bottom of things if I could not speak to the pony or halla. She trembled as I approached, and what I’d taken as fear was in actuality mere exhaustion. She battled every moment not to show weakness. The steel in her eyes—so clear and blue—did not waver, nor did she shy away when my horn touched hers.

It was a rather simple spell, at least as I’d once reckoned things, one that copied the understanding of all languages known by the subject. Even it took a great deal of effort to avoid the spell fizzling. 

“There, much better,” I said as I stepped back to look down on Velvet. “Now, answer me this; to what purpose did you free me of my prison?”

Repeating her reason was hardly needed. The echoes of her call, the words that brought me back to the disc, continued to reverberate through my sinew and bone in a compulsion to act. This pony had made a request in the old way—in the proper way—and I could not deny a response for long.

But, there was a propriety that needed following. A wave of the horn and a few words of, ‘There, all done,’ would not suffice. She’d gone to great lengths, and the least I could do was perform my appointed role in the play. 

“My daughter, cure her, please.” Velvet gestured to a small bundle laid out before her, and I confess to have not noticed before. 

From within the swaddling, her breath shallow and raspy, sat a quiet little half-breed fawn. Or perhaps foal. Either works, I suppose. 

I recognised what she was at once. Such a cute little thing, all wrapped in her swaddling and staring at everything with her big, brown eyes. So innocent and pure. My heart ached to look on her, because it brought so much clarity to events. Velvet pushed her closer to me with such relief on her face! Yet, I was duty bound to bring only disappointment.   

Slowly, I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, but that is not why you woke me.” 

Velvet mouthed a few incoherent words before she managed to sputter, “Yes, I did! That is the only reason I have to wake you! Everything I’ve done these past few months has been to save her. I’ve done terrible, terrible things. I’ve hurt those I called friend. I’ve sacrificed those I love. Left them to die. I… I…”

I kneeled down in front of her, in part so my own legs would not tremble, but also to give her comfort. Brushing back her mane, it was evident that the mare before me, while young, had seen and done more than a hundred other mares would in their lifetimes. 

“I can tell you, truly, that was not what woke me.” I tried to keep my voice soft, yet firm. Comforting, but with an iron core of certainty. Apparently, what the crowd heard was more thundering and terrible, like I was every bit the titan-revenant they’d been taught through song and legend, a moment away from cracking the disc with fiery rain and bitter tempests. 

They probably exaggerated.

“You requested the blessing of a foal,” I explained levely. 

“Yes!” Velvet almost shouted and began to rise, her good hoof reaching out to grab my shoulder. “Please. Bless my daughter. Cure her of the Gasping.”

Again I had to shake my head.

“You misunderstand. It was to be blessed with a foal. To conceive one strong and healthy, who will go on to do great deeds.”

Velvet’s mouth fell open as I spoke, tears rimming her eyes.

“So, everything has been pointless?” she eventually asked in a whisper close to a sob, exhaustion both physical and spiritual tearing down her armour.

“Tell me, what have you done? It must have been an extraordinary journey.”

And so she told me everything, recounting all that had transpired from the time of my warning the previous fall to the moment I was awoken. At first I was amazed by the resourcefulness the group had possessed in figuring out what would be needed to save the fawn. To reach the ruins of my temple and open the doors was itself a feat. My heart ached to hear what had befallen my priestesses, but I was not surprised either. 

But it was the mention of Sombra that changed everything. 

“So… he lives?” I hissed through clenched teeth, my wings shaking with age-old rage. 

Low, frightened mutters wound their way through the observing halla. 

To my shock, Velvet shook her head, and calmly said, “No. I killed him.”

“You… killed him?” The words felt entirely unsatisfying. 

Not because I’d been denied my revenge. For some time I sat there wondering at just what I was feeling. There was anger, yes, but it had been so long that it was just… there. A low, single ember that could flicker briefly, but held no threat in its bed of ashes of returning to a true, passionate flame. 

No, what I felt, what clung to me as if it were moist leaves in the fall, was regret.

And acceptance.

What he had done was ancient history, literally, as point of fact. 

“I wonder how he did it,” I mused, much to the surprise of the crowd.

The wounded had long since been tended, and the dead removed to a place of respect. The crowd had grown somewhat, halla drawn by the fighting congregating around Velvet and I. Whispers at my release echoed now and then, and there was a palpable taste of worry in the air. 

Among the crowd, I noticed members from all facets of society; warriors and crafts-elk next to scholars, philosophers, and more. Some bowed or said prayers in my name. Most did not.

“Continue,” I said to Velvet.

And she did, telling me of her time beneath the surface, from the moment of the tunnel’s collapse within the catacombs, to the eventual battle for her freedom. By the time she reached the moment she tore Prince Selim’s soul asunder I was filled with both pity and admiration. What came afterwards, I was not surprised to learn. 

It seemed a story I’d heard time and again. One I’d written for myself during my own fall. When she finished, all I could do was shake my head and sigh. 

Slowly, I stood up, and in a voice that carried far, I said, “An amazing tale you spin, Velvet Sparkle. You admit to abusing dark magic, and the murder of your friends. The slaughter of tens of thousands brought about by your cruelty and inability to master the gifts presented to you. So many crimes you committed in your efforts to free me.” I began to pace as I spoke, turning my gaze from the small, exhausted mare before me to the still growing crowd. “And I can not blame nor judge you on these crimes. I have done far, far worse when there was not a glimmer of hope of saving my own foal.”

I stopped in my pacing to lean down and help her to stand. Once on her wavering hooves, I wrapped a wing around her and brought her close to my chest. 

“In you I see a pony who has walked the same paths as I, who has looked into the same darkness and let it consume her, as it did to me, and has been able to turn away only through great hardship and pain. In you… I see kindred.”

Your mother wept, truly wept, that day. Many times have I come to visit this home, as a traveling minstrel—not my best disguise, I admit—and many, many other ways. My favourite must be as Twilight’s dance instructor. How your sister’s flailing antics brought me so much joy! Ahem, sorry… 

But, yes, it was the only time I’ve seen her despondent and broken.

After her tears were spent, Velvet broke away and picked up River in her hooves, gently cradling the fawn.

“She’s the White Hind, though… Surely—”

A little snicker interrupted Velvet, she casting a sharp look up at me.

“Your daughter is not the White Hind, I am.” I gave another little laugh. “As is my sister, and Celestia.” 

Seeing her confusion, I explained.

The White Hind, you see, was the title I was given when I returned to my family during the First Age of Ice. The last sorceress had just summoned a great evil to the disc, and in so doing, winter gripped all the lands in frozen terror. Marelantis was gone, swallowed by the ocean for its hubris, and in those days all despaired. And then my sister and I discovered what we were; Life. 

Over the eons we lost sight of this truth. Things become muddled and distorted by increments, like a glacier marching across a landscape, until one day you are such silly things as Motherhood or bloody Fate. 

Fate!? Ha! My sister is in for a sound earful about that…. Ahem, sorry, again.

But yes, Life. I carry the title Springbringer because I slew Witiko and ushered in the first spring in a century. While I can bring about spring, and did so for thousands of years afterwards, it is more a side-effect of what I am truly doing; bringing a spring of life. It is not just to ponies and halla that I grant foals. From birds and bees, to even the trees, through the Font, I grant them all new life.

I explained all this, though I focused more on the effects fifteen hundred years have on myths and lore. What they thought of as a White Hind were alicorns.

We can see things the mortals can not. We can speak to spirits great and small. And, by my first feathers, can my sister get around! Why are you sniggering? She is fast. Through the weave of Harmony she can be anywhere needed in an instant, with far more precision than mere teleportation.

Eventually, the halla came to believe that these abilities were possessed by those very, very few of them born white. 

“What now, then?” Velvet asked when I finished explaining things to her. 

“You woke me for a reason, and I have granted it.”

She looked up at me confused for a moment.

“I’ve marked you, Velvet Sparkle. When you decide to have another foal, he or she will indeed be blessed.” 

Pain flashed behind her eyes and she looked away from me.

“But, I can’t have another foal. The dogs… they gave us poisons in our food and—”

“Trust me. I’m the Goddess of… you don’t seem to have a word for it, actually…” I scrunched up my face as I looked for what I wanted to say. “Rejuvenation, the Spring, Birth, and Fertility; I am all these things, and yet… not? Being the goddess of a concept is hard when talking to somepony who doesn’t actually have that concept. Regardless; pray to me when ready and you shall receive your foal.”  

Velvet didn’t appear all that reassured, even when I laid a hoof on her withers and smiled.

“But now, we come to something far less pleasant.” I retracted my hoof and again spoke as much to the crowd as to Velvet. “While I will not judge you, Velvet, I cannot permit you to stay within the Taiga, nor can I allow you to spread word of my return. By the old ways, as decreed by the ruling council of Marelantis, when a sorceress is shown to have lost all control of her powers, a geas will be placed upon you. So long as it is active you will be unable to access the spells you have learned during your quest to save your daughter, nor will you be able to speak of what has occurred since you set hoof within the Taiga. This geas will last until such time as you are deemed worthy, at which time you will be free to share the truth, and have full access to all that you learned; if you have learned to master yourself. Should you not and you remain a threat to the disc; it will strike you dead.”

The actual casting of the geas I will not bother recounting. Just suffice with knowing I am still astonished I managed to avoid blowing up the castle. Fifteen hundred years as a statue, and the second spell I cast is a Marelantian sigil? I attribute my lack of judgement to a bought of sheer giddiness at being able to move.

On the following day, Velvet was teleported to the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters within the Everfree Forest. It was the only teleportation marker I had within Equestria at the time. 

But that was not the end.     
    
 





Velvet waited for Limelight to emerge from the dining hall before leading the way towards her study. Limelight staggered a little when Iridia’s initial bellow shook the manor. She almost turned back to check on the dining hall, but an impatient noise from her mother reined in her impulse. 

She wondered what differences there'd be between Velvet and Iridia’s stories. Curiosity dueled with duty until they were heading up the main staircase and an invisible threshold was crossed, leaving her committed.

Studying the tension in her mother’s withers and back, Limelight wondered why Velvet would take the unusual action of pulling her away from dinner. Such actions would have caused unimaginable scandal under normal circumstances.   

There was something wrong with the placid smile Velvet wore as she indicated for Limelight to enter the study first. Once her daughter was seated, Velvet took her usual place behind her desk and pulled down a fresh sheet of parchment and quill, not so much as glancing at the quill as it began to dart across the page. When she at last turned to address Limelight, there was only a vague hint of the pinched emotions from the dining room on her features.   

“Limelight, I wanted to talk to you about your paramour. This Intrepid Plowshare, if I recall?” Velvet paused for a beat while Limelight grew more flustered and her cheeks darkened. “He is a strapping young stallion. Firm flanks and a strong jaw. But that is so common to Earth ponies, it seems. He certainly isn’t hard to look at out in the fields.” 

“M-Mother!” 

Pushing ahead, Velvet waved an airy hoof. “Your mom isn’t wrong that it’d cause problems, but that isn’t as important as whether you love him or not. If you have that then everything else will be so much easier.”

“I… No, I don’t. Love Intrepid, that is.” Limelight rubbed her left cannon. “He is nice but…”

“Well, that is a shame.” Velvet’s voice resonated oddly with disappointment. “And here I had a whole speech planned about following your heart and to Tartarus with House politics.”

Wilting a little, Limelight gave a dejected sigh. “Because you’ve decided to make Star the matron.”

“No, because I made the mistake of marrying for politics twice. Take it from somepony who found and squandered love. When you find it, you grab it for dear life and never let go.” Velvet grinned at the surprise on Limelight’s face. She savoured that look before adding, “I’ve decided to name you my heir, and that is already more hardship than I should force any of my daughters to assume.”

Limelight gaped at her mother, working her jaw in a futile attempt to say something. Despite arguing for herself as the better candidate, Limelight knew she was woefully unprepared for taking up the mantle of Duchess. She’d seen some of the lessons Twilight had gone through and knew them to have been but the bare minimum. Correspondence with the daughters of other Houses had shone a dim light on the preparations other heirs suffered. Tutored in history, etiquette, politics, and magic to a degree that, honestly, daunted her. 

From the pity that flickered behind Velvet’s gaze, Limelight suspected her mother shared similar thoughts. 

Velvet winced and looked away to inspect the pages covering her desk. From them she pulled a letter, already sealed, and pushed it towards Limelight.   

“I’ve put together this letter for you to take to Lady Blackwell. You’ll need some allies in the House of Ladies, and she’ll jump at the chance of having House Sparkle in her debt. There is no shortage of allies and enemies right now, but who knows how things will shift when word gets out. Lady Blackwell can be almost as hard and cutthroat as me, so you’ll have to be careful, but I know you’re more than up to the task, Limey.

“On the domestic side of things, I’d appreciate it if you spent some time with Two-Step and Briny. It’d be good to at least have the jist of things when they discuss the flowers and draughts of potion. Your brother is excellent, but he might not always be around to help. If he ever finds a mare and settles down, you’ll need to be able to stand on your own. 

“Which brings us full circle to my original point. The only other thing left is finding a suitable husband and wife.”

Fighting down stronger words, Limelight interjected with a sharp, “I think that is my choice. You said not five minutes ago to follow my heart rather than what everypony expects.”

“Yes, but there isn’t anything saying you can’t try to do both.” Velvet replied, pulling a scroll out from her nearby bookshelves. “While you have an advantage in that you could just ask your sister-in-law for guidance, I think that sort of cheating isn’t something you’d entertain.”

Limelight cringed and unconsciously leaned away. “Ugh, Tartarus no! Love isn’t something to be parcelled out so mechanically. I… respect and like Cadence, but I hate how she plays matchmaker all the time. Ponies should be free to stumble into love without an all seeing alicorn pushing them into each other. It cheapens the experience. If I relied on Cadence, I’d always wonder if it was true love. That’s the list, isn’t it.”

Velvet nodded as she twisted the scroll over and over. “Yes.” A fire cantrip spat from her horn and lit the edges of the scroll. 

“Mother?” Limelight stared hard at the scroll as it was consumed, embers caught by Velvet’s aura and snuffed before they could fall onto the floor. 

“This might be the only time you’ll hear me say this, but, the House be damned. You’re free to make your own mistakes and find some ponies to love of your own. If you’re happy, then the House will be well served.” 

Confused a half-second, Limelight didn’t know how to respond, then the hugest grin swept up over her features and made her eyes twinkle. She stepped around the desk and, in an act that caught Velvet off-guard, gave her mother a hug. 

“Thank you, mother,” Limelight whispered, and a little of the tension drained from Velvet. “I promise I won’t let you or the House down.”      

“I know, dear. Now, go on and enjoy what little freedom you have left. Things do not get easier from here.” There was a playfulness to her words, but also a hard ring of truth. 

Another squeeze, and Limelight stepped back. Velvet didn’t let go right away, and there was a slight ring of tears underneath her eyes. Limelight paused at the door to look back, her entire being so at ease and joyous. 

Basking in that glow long after Limelight had left, Velvet found herself drawn to work. Several sheets of parchment floated to her desk. Quills sprang up with inkwells, blackened tips darted and the room was filled with the sharp scratches of writing. Settling back in her chair Velvet closed her eyes and just wrote, allowing the words and spells to flow through her onto the pages. Not cognisant of what exactly she was making Velvet sank back into the memories of her foalhood and the journey to wake Iridia. 

She smiled at the remembrances of Crisp Winds and his lessons on summoning. The exhilaration on binding Lord Auroras. Theories and practices of healing spells taught by Blue Winter and the spells she herself had created out of the Dark Runes dashed across the crisp parchments as they flooded up from her memories. 

A neat stack of papers completed, she became aware of being watched. She jerked out of the memories and turned to find Glitterdust standing in the doorway with a candle.

“It’s gone ten, love,” Glitterdust said, stifling a cute, little yawn. Setting down her work, many of the spells half finished or with equations unstarted, Velvet got up and followed her wife. “You’re feeling better, I see,” Glitterdust noted as they entered their bedroom. 

“Just a little,” Velvet admitted, heading to her small vanity. 

Whisper had already retired to her private room, the door bolted shut for additional privacy, and Comet stood by the wardrobe, his nightgown and cap waiting on a hanger. There was a little twist in the corner of his mouth, like he’d just eaten a sour drop when he’d expected a sugary treat. 

“I’ve been listening to your story, dear,” Comet huffed undoing the collar of his vest with a sharp jerk, “and I must say I’ve been growing more concerned. The way you speak of this Growler… It…” He clicked his tongue, thought better of what he was going to say, and instead focused on undressing. 

“Dear, is that jealousy I detect? I didn’t think you had it in you.” Velvet playfully called. 

“I think you’ve had us all wondering if we aren’t just some consolation prize. We aren’t, are we?” Glitterdust’s question caught Velvet by surprise, making her look up from her jewelry box.   

Velvet didn’t respond right away, and when she did it was with an unconvincing, “No,” that rang hollow in her own ears. “You are not…” Velvet’s voice failed as the words she wanted to say refused to leave her throat. 

No words could soothe the hurt and worries that flitted behind Glitterdust’s eyes. She wore her emotions on the brim of her hat, always in plain sight and free. The way she caught the corner of her lower lip between her teeth spoke more than a single tearful confession of doubt ever could to those who knew her well.

A little electric buzz flitted through Velvet. Glitterdust was just so cute when worried. 

When they’d been courting, Velvet had taken to watching in secret while Glitterdust worked and fretted over her stage designs. 

A warmth blossomed throughout her, and before Velvet was fully aware of her actions, she wrapped her hooves around Glitterdust’s neck and brought her into a fierce kiss. Her heart thrummed in her chest like a wild bird caged, lips tingling where they mashed against her wife’s. She hadn’t felt so alive from a kiss since their wedding night. 

“Love, what’s gotten into you?” Glitterdust gasped as the kiss broke. “You, mphh!”

Another kiss, more passionate and needy than the first silenced any further questions before they could break the mood. She would not allow anything to douse the heat rushing through her veins, or the electric need flitting across her skin and making her fur stand on end. 

Breaking the contact, Velvet gave a dusky whisper. “You are my family, and you are all more precious to me than you know.”

Turning to an open mouthed Comet, Velvet all but pounced him. Wrapping her hooves behind his neck she pressed onward, trailing kisses over his jaw as she made him stand on his back hooves. Legs entwined, breath hot against his skin, Velvet licked Comet’s ear in that special way that never failed to turn him into putty.

He shuddered and an almost delicate sigh flitted over her, telling her that she’d hit the mark again. In a sudden shift he took control, hefting her up and then pressing her to the wall, his strong hooves tight to her barrel. Comet’s mouth sought her own, missed, and instead wandered down her throat, and then up to her horn.

A wonderful jolt shook Velvet’s body as his teeth touch the very tip, arcing down her neck to the base of her tail. Her tail swished in anticipation of more such touches, and a playful laugh bubbled from her throat as she took back control, pushing off the wall so they fell onto their bed.  

Breathing deeply of Comet’s musky scent, Velvet glanced up to see Glitterdust hovering between her wants and embarrassment. 

“Join us,” Velvet purred, her sultry eyes bringing out a growing grin on her wife’s muzzle. 

The bed shifted a little as Glitterdust joined them, crawling up Velvet’s back. Glitterdust’s hoof made swirling motions over Velvet’s cutie mark, then gave them a rough slap. 

Into the gasp the strike elicited, Comet took over, rolling Velvet onto her back in a burning embrace. His lips found her ear, soft bites planted at the edges before switching sides.   

A turn of her head brought her lip to lip with Glitterdust. 

She moaned, loudly, pent up urges leaving her quivering with need.

Closing her eyes Velvet surrendered utterly to her desires.  

> Part Fifteen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	




Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Part Fifteen 


Iridia sat up with a start, groggy hooves scrubbing at her face while she smacked her dry lips. Reaching over for the decanter of wine she kept by her bed, Iridia found it, and the stand on which it should have been waiting, both missing. Her bed likewise was wrong. For one, it was not a bed, rather one of the modifiable couches called a futon. She was also leaning up against something warm, soft, and breathing. 

“Oh, by my mane, not again,” she groaned.

Careful not to wake the pony—or ponies—beside her, Iridia started to get up, only to find her wing pinned beneath her companion. A short snort made her freeze, breath held tight in her chest as she waited for her paramour to either wake or drift back off into their dreams. After a long, agonizing minute marked by the ticking of a clock the pony settled, rolling over in the process and freeing Iridia. 

Clutching her lower lip between her teeth, Iridia stepped onto the floor and freedom. A quick check over her shoulder showed her a cherry blossom pink back, with a darker, rose red mane tipped with honey-gold highlights, and the figure of a mare. 

This was a bit of a surprise. 

Iridia had never had much time for the company of other mares herself. Finding stallions to share her bed had never been a problem in her more adventurous phases, and during her settled periods she’d prefered monogamy. Not out of any dislike of the herding practices of almost every society on the disc, rather she had never found a wife she could bear the thought of losing. 

Which probably said something about her attitudes towards stallions; a thought she promptly shoved aside to be examined in a century or three. That was something to guilt herself over later.     

Before she could slip out of the door, Iridia was brought to a stop by the difference in her surroundings compared to what she expected. Beautiful oak panelling replaced the cold stone walls of her tower, and alternately smiling and stern portraits of unicorns loomed down at her. It was a room she recognised as previously having been the bedroom for her daughter.

Twilight’s writing desk and bookshelves were gone, replaced by more generic tables and a cabinet. There were also far too many chairs, and even a sofa… all covered with sleeping ponies.

A cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck as she took in those present. Scrunching her eyes shut she tried to remember the last few days. Events and snippets of conversations dashed upwards, scrambling into each other as they always did during the season. There’d been an orange coated guard, Cadence, free flowing wine and something about flying. Interspersed were playing a Stones game with a stallion—she was pretty sure she’d lost as well, but couldn’t be certain—dinner with her nieces, and something about a particularly smooth gouda cheese. Piecing together the order and specifics, however, eluded her. 

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, Iridia tip-hoofed across the room, and over the sleeping forms of Two-Step and Pennant before slipping out into the hallway. She bumped almost at once into Velvet, the much shorter mare wrapped in a dressing gown and carrying a steaming cup of coffee.

“Iridia, you’re up early,” she said in a hushed voice while indicating she should be followed. “It’s only Wednesday.”

“Is it?” Iridia scraped her tongue over her dry mouth as she joined Velvet in the matron’s study. “Feels more like a Friday to me.”

At the periphery of her thoughts she could detect the beckoning tempest that was the Font calling for her guiding hoof. She almost gave in right there, so easy would it have been to just fall back into the warm, spicy flow of life and magic permeating the disc. Stumbling a little, she caught herself with a reminder that she needed to know what she was doing at Sparkle Manor.  

“So…” Iridia’s voice trailed off as she settled in a plush chair and noticed the stacks of arcane tomes piled up on either side of Velvet’s desk. Coupled with the heavy bag underneath her friend’s eyes, there was no doubt that Velvet had been up all night doing research. 

For a blink it wasn’t Velvet Iridia saw, but her own Twilight. The similarities were uncanny, and served only to heighten Iridia’s sense of having chosen her daughter’s foster family well. 

A smell that was not a smell broke the illusion, and Iridia had to work hard to stifle the silly grin that wanted to take over her mouth. The musky energy clinging to Velvet was unmistakable, and it took no imagination to picture the steamy cause. The love, passion, and heat contained in the act. Curiously, there was more, but before she could explore the energies further her thoughts were snagged.

“Tyr is dying,” Velvet said, dragging Iridia’s mind back into the room. 

Fantasies shattered, Iridia cocked her head a little to the side like a puppy, or confused foal. “Is she? Is that why I am here?”

“In part. You’re also here because you kept pestering the guards in Canterlot to find Twilight and rut her.” Taciturn disapproval flitted behind Velvet’s eyes, along with a slight glimmer of hidden humour. “And something to do with Cadence and some crystals.”

Letting the knowledge sink in, Iridia let out an embarrassed laugh. “Well, that is to be expected. I used to torment my sister endlessly… a long, long time ago.” A grin ghosted across her features, and a pang for her sister’s company pinched the corners of her heart. The loneliness and sadness were fleeting. Eventually they’d be reunited, all she needed was patience, and for a mind as old and immortal as hers that was easy. She tapped her chin. “I’m not sure what crystals have to do with Cadence though.”

Shrugging, Velvet returned her attention back to the books floating around her. “You’d have to ask her about it. She didn’t say much, and what I gathered is from snippets she muttered to herself. Whatever you did clearly shook her enough to divert her attention from Tyr’s situation, if just for a few angry minutes.”

“Yes, you mentioned Tyr dying.” From her private reserve, Iridia summoned a bottle of plain apple cider, well chilled by the teleportation, along with two large mugs. Pouring out the drink, Iridia said, “If you desire me to do something about this, I should warn you my hooves are rather tied by my sister’s curse. There once was a time I could have done something about Fostering, but that is many, many years ago.”

Closing one book and setting it aside, Velvet hardly looked in Iridia’s direction. “I know. That doesn’t concern me. I already know you require an eclipse, and have gotten the spell together. Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and even Blessed have all agreed to take part.”

Iridia couldn’t contain her surprise. 

An eclipse meant the sun and moon were no longer diametrically bound. For this to happen, Celestia, Luna, or most likely both had to have shattered—again—her oldest work. The shifts and changes the disc would undergo as a result would be calamitous, especially for the coastal regions as the tides grew wilder and ponies adjusted towards the new status-quo.

Besides the effects on the oceans, there were those on magic itself. 

Many spells in the old days had depended on the moon being in specific phases or positions in relation to her sister. Keeping her locked into being always full and in Sol’s opposition had allowed for a number of spells to be far more effective, while locking out large swaths of those deemed unsuitable. A shiver worked up Iridia’s spine as her mind wandered to the real reason she and her sister had locked Sol and Selene in place; to close the Silver Gate.

Not natural to Ioka, the gate connected to a single other world, and had been the portal through which a horrible enemy had emerged. Destroying the gate not an option for fear of what would happen to the rest of the disc, and magic in general, Iridia had devised the spell, based on the lessons of her first teacher, the Sorceress Salandria, to keep the gate shut through use of a flaw in it’s operation. 

Weighing the gate reopening against the life of an alicorn, the choice was simple. 

Besides, it wasn’t like the sigil hadn’t been destroyed before and replaced. Celestia’s fall preceding the Long Winter, the War of the Sun and Moon; both had shattered the previous sigils. At the worst it was the work of a few weeks to recast the spell and set everything back to normal.      

“So… you have everything you need then.” 

Velvet nodded, then sighed. “I don’t like it though. This spell in my head,” she tapped a hoof to her temple, “will require a sacrifice in the old ways. A life for a life.”

“I hate those spells,” Iridia agreed in a lazy, uninterested voice as she watched the books orbiting Velvet were one by one filed away and replaced by sheets of empty parchment. 

She tilted her head as words and runes began to appear on the sheets, formed by little lines of shimmering blue magic. Once a page was full it flew to Velvet’s desk where it was neatly stacked. In the space of a minute several such sheets were completed. 

“You’re making a grimoire.” It was a statement of fact. Iridia had seen the process many a time over the millennia, always when an especially practiced or knowledgeable wizard sensed either a completion to their life’s work, or the end of said life. “There is something else that happened that you are not telling me. What is it?”

“I’m just feeling a bit old after telling my story and having had one last, little adventure. Luna and I had a bit of a time yesterday morning looking after Star.” The grin Velvet put on was threadbare and ragged, meant to deflect while simultaneously begging for a follow-up. “I have one final spell to cast today, and then… I suppose I will rest for a while.”

Suppressing an eyeroll, Iridia let out a short, harsh bark. “Fie, old friend. You are too young to be growing so morbid and fatalistic. So, this spell requires a life? As I recall you have a few to spare that you’ve gathered over the years.”

“And spent,” Velvet said as she began to work on a letter, writing it with quill and ink while yet more pages of the grimoire filled themselves around her. “I used the last of my stolen lives saving Star. The thane has already arrived, Iridia, and is waiting for me.”

“Perhaps I should send her away, or lock her back up in the ruins of my temple,” Iridia snapped, rising to her hooves so she could pace across the small study. “I do not like losing my friends when they are still so young. Too few are the days you mortals get to enjoy. It is wrong for them to be cut shorter still because we gods made an error.”

Velvet stared at Iridia a few moments, and then tossed back her head as she laughed; deep, long, and free. Her body shook with guffaws and shorter chortles for a long time. Long enough for Iridia to grow a tiny bit irritated. She fluffed her feathers and pouted, hoof tapping the floor as she waited for Velvet’s mirth to pass.

When her friend’s laughter had subsided into a few, lingering snickers, Iridia said, “If you are set on this path, then far be it from me to correct your course. You are my champion and friend, and though I have granted you many boons over these years as a matter of course, I wish to grant you another. My debts to you can not be repaid in the single lifetime of a pony. When next you come to the disc, what life would you like me to grant?”

“I’d ask for something nice and quiet, but I doubt that is in the Weave’s design for me.” 

“Fie! I think you’ve lead a quiet life once in all the dozen I’ve known you.”

“It’s been that many? I sometimes wonder about these past lives, or if they at all matter to me. Will what I’ve done effect whoever comes next? Is it fair to put on her my sins?” The melancholy hovering around Velvet grew as she spoke, then was banished with a sharp snort and flick of her ears. “Bah, listen to me try to philosophise! No, it doesn’t matter. She will be herself, and may she do better than me. Give her what life you think best, and that is it.”

Iridia nodded and smiled, ideas already dancing on where to place her friend when that season came. 

Nobility, naturally. Nothing too high though, that always hampered more than helped Velvet’s predecessors. Perhaps the gentry then, or one of the lesser Houses. Something where questions would not be asked when Iridia began taking an interest in the filly. 

“Stop it,” Velvet playfully snapped, shooting Iridia a sideways glance. “Just a good life. She won’t otherwise require any of your meddling.”

A wolfish grin pulling at the corners of her eyes, Iridia waved a hoof. “Well, of course you won’t. But it makes things far more interesting.”

They shared a nice, long laugh, both at ease with the other. 

“Something you can do for me; make sure Star receives this grimoire when she comes of age. I don’t want her meddling with these forces until she’s ready.” Velvet patted the growing stack of pages. “I’ve already sent a letter to the Arch-Mage to keep an eye on Star once she returns to the school. I’m certain she’ll keep atop of things.”

“It will be done, of course.” Iridia flicked a wing in a dismissive gesture. “Honestly, I thought you’d be in a flurry of activity, trying to micromanage every little detail.”

Velvet snorted and rolled her eyes. She increased the number of pages floating about her, and the speed with which she wrote, as if to prove that she wasn’t being blase about her fate. 

“I’ve tried to run a rather tight ship with my House. Believe you me, I thought much the same when I realised what the spell would require. I found that other than the paperwork to confirm Limelight as my heir, which Blessed just so happened to have on her, of course—seriously, your sister and her acolytes really need to tone down their smug all-knowingness—but otherwise, there is precious little that needs attending."

“You’re certain this is the best course of action?” Iridia indicated the floating pages. “You’ve always been rather adamant about never sharing this magic.”

Rolling her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, Velvet didn’t answer right away, instead inspecting one of the many spells. “Celestia got me thinking. There is so much about magic that we destroyed. Is it right for me to do so again? Especially when in a few hours these runes will be used for good. It does not negate how dangerous they can be, and how poorly I used them, but perhaps another will be able to do better. I can’t allow this magic to fall into the wrong hooves, so there will have to be safeguards.

“It is my hope that Star will be able to prove herself worthy and open this tome. If not, there will be others, and one day… maybe… maybe through them I’ll be able to atone.”

“More likely some cultist will get ahold of the book and attempt to use it for evil. Probably an attempt to steal Celestia’s throne.” Iridia huffed with a little grin to show she was jesting. “If this is your wish though, I’ll put the book someplace safe behind a layer of wards and traps and what-have-you, ready for the eager and foolish. These things are still done, yes?” 

Smiles turned into a patter of soft laughter, Velvet saying as the moment faded, “Yes. There are a few choice places. A secret compartment in the House mausoleum is the most common. A series of cryptic riddles necessary to discover the means of locating and opening the panel.”

“Oh, no, that is too simple!” Iridia’s grin grew wider and she felt an upsurge of simple happiness. She thrust up a hoof, and declared, “Nay, I shall have you hidden away someplace in the north as you are my champion. A tomb befitting your deeds and adventures will be placed beneath Sunfall Stone with the other grandmasters of the Ravens.”

“Too obvious, if we want to keep my secrets out of troublesome cults hooves.” Velvet tutted, fully into the game, and began to pull out some maps for them to pour over. “First we need a secluded but meaningful place that will not draw suspicions. Of course! Ponyville!” Velvet tapped the map excitedly. 

“‘She rests ‘ere beneath the Star’s Gaze’,” Iridia intoned in a low, powerful voice. 

“‘Fixed to the North, by three mountain’s breath,” Velvet added, mimicking Iridia perfectly. “So, a small temple dedicated to Twilight?”

“Small temple? For where our Twilight awakened? Never! It will be a grand cathedral the likes of which has not been constructed in this era. A landmark denoting the beginning of the return of the gods! It will stand for four thousand years, until ponies lose all grasp of why the cathedral was built, and simply marvel at its magnificence and wonder how the ancients could have formed such beauty.” Fully caught in the fantasy, Irida leapt to her hooves and began to pace. Her wings jittered with excitement, her eyes flashed with mirth, and her words tumbled one over the other in their desire to be spoken. “A secret order of knights will be formed to stand vigil and maintain the wards and riddles, acting as guardians and guides to those seeking to unearth your greatest secrets. Some texts will paint you as the mortal mother to a goddess, others as her confidant and teacher, and scholars will argue and debate which is true or not for centuries. They will hold one-half of the cypher needed to follow clues carved into monuments and places of importance, and the other will be given to your descendants. It will take teaming up with a brave and intelligent professor—of antiquities, of course—to finally uncover your greatest secrets.”

“It certainly makes for the beginning of a good story,” Velvet chuckled.         

Iridia slowed in her pacing and her excitement tapered away, thoughts growing hazy as the Font pressed harder against her mind. She let out a happy hum, redirecting a life with the push of a hoof. Time began to crawl along, Iridia giggling and fluffing her wings as she went back to her appointed task and Velvet focused herself on creating her grimoire and accompanying letters, all thoughts of cyphers, adventures, and tombs abandoned. 

Shortly after dawn there was a knock on the door preceding Mr. Cane entering with a tray of breakfast scones—cheese covered no less—with a cup of coffee for Velvet, and a glass of port for Iridia. As she took a plate and her glass Iridia gave the butler a kiss on the cheek. He blushed a little, but said nothing in response, instead focusing his attention ahead in stoic professionalism.

“The princesses are taking their breakfast in the garden, ma’am, and requested you be told that everything is ready on their end for this noon.” Mr. Cane waited for the nod of acceptance and follow-up dismissal before making a curt step back, and then stopping. He hesitated, eyes darting from Velvet to Iridia and then the door, before returning to his employer. “Ma’am, I know I am out of place, but, I just wanted to say we are all with you. Naturally, all of the staff have the fullest confidence in your ability to overcome whatever malady has afflicted princess Tyr.”    

Melancholy acceptance flickered across Velvet’s face, and she thanked Mr. Cane with a stiff, “I know. Could you tell Mrs. Hardtack I wish to speak with her?”

It was some time later that Iridia was next aware, hours passing in the space of a blink filled with warm scents and an ever shifting current of new life. At some point she’d been brought to the garden. No, she’d teleported. There’d been a brief instant of cold within that hazy warmth. She sat in the corner of the gazebo on a comfortable bench with a wing draped over Tyr.

The filly sat blowing her nose into a hoofkerchief, eyes watery and shot with red veins. Her little body shuddered, and then she glanced up at Iridia. 

“You really believe I’ll be accepted after all that has happened?” Tyr asked, uncertainty giving her voice a pained treble. 

Iridia blinked at the question, and try as she might to retrieve the conversation that had preceded it, all was an indiscernible mess. Rather than attempt to sort through the jumbled moments between Velvet’s office and the garden, a futile effort at best from past experiences, Iridia reached down and swept away the tears that clung to Tyr’s cheeks with a wingtip. 

She was spared having to stumble through any answers by the arrival of Cadence. “It is time,” she said as she guided Tyr with a wing towards the hill. Behind her came the rest of the house, everypony from the servants to guards and all the Sparkles in attendance.   







Bluebirds gathered in the boughs of the old oak above the wardstone, twittering and chirping a spring song. A warm wind swept up from the south to rustle the leaves and tug at the manes of the loose herd up the hill. On either side of the wardstone sat Celestia and Luna, their work on the casting circle long completed.  

The day had all the hallmarks of one of those halcyon days, idyllic and perfect. 

Already, there were signs of that this spring day, this brilliant Wednesday at the end of April, would be one of prominence in the history books. 

High above, Selene and Sol shared the day for the first time in centuries, the moon so pale and ghostly in the blueness of the sky. Likewise, a few stars remained awake, twinkling over the center of the disc. Perhaps they’d been attracted by the oddity of seeing their nightly companion already returned, or something else had grabbed their attention. Only Twilight would have been able to tell everypony what was going on with her stars. A sad smile flickered across Velvet’s features. 

She regretted Twilight’s absence more than ever before. There would be no chance for them to make amends now. Unless there was a miracle. Even surrounded by the disc’s pre-eminent deities, Velvet knew better than to hold such a hope. 

There was so much left unsaid between Velvet and her eldest daughter, even though Twilight was not, technically, her own. She darted a quick glance to where Iridia sat in the shade of the gazebo, once more lost in the currents of life flowing from the Font. No, Twilight was her daughter, no matter the circumstances of her birth. 

A long sigh rattled from Velvet and she basked in the warm rays a little longer.

Twilight would have loved the past week, with all the stories, history, and magic. 

Looking up the hill, Velvet imagined Twilight up there as a filly, sitting in the shade given by the old oak, a half-dozen books spread around her. A much younger Shining made his appearance, a teenager once more, watching over his sister from beside the wardstone. Limelight and Two-Step faded into view on either side of Twilight. The former braided her older sister’s mane, much to Twilight’s annoyance as she tried to focus on her reading, while Two-Step commented about some aspect of the book’s contents. It was a history book, Velvet decided, on the founding of Equestria. Pennant appeared next, while all the others grew a little older. She glared from off to the side, pawing at the ground with a hoof, before turning away and marching off in a huff past a starry eyed Star. Shining drifted away, and in his place appeared the twins, with a little Adamant, barely more than a tottering foal, and an equally small Spike, the quartet laughing and giggling as they played under the Sun. 

Loath to cast away the imagined past, Velvet tried to picture where her children would travel in the years to come, but found it impossible. Her thoughts refused to be moved, etching the fantasy deep into her heart and making it glow with pride. 

A polite cough from Cadence at last brought an end to the happy past, and the household began to make its way up the hill.   

Velvet lingered longer than most at the bottom, gazing around at her home and family. Pennant and Shining trotted side-by-side, and it was the first time Velvet could recall the pair together and not arguing about something. On Pennant’s other side was Two-Step. He was talking in his usual quick manner to Adamant. Ever inseparable from the youngest of the Sparkles when he was home, Spike laughed and made private, little jokes with Adamant. With their short legs, the two had to cantor in order to keep pace with their older siblings

A little behind the first group, Star rode on Comet’s back, her hooves wrapped around his neck and face buried into his mane. On either side she was flanked by her moms, Glitterdust chattering away in a happy buzz, while Whisper was her usual silent self. 

Limelight, Melody, and Elegant followed last, the twins peppering their sister with question after question on what was about to happen. None of her answers satisfied, as she herself knew little more than the thinnest details. Still, they persisted, and filled in the gaps with guesses and conjecture. From the laughter, they didn’t suspect anything other than a perfect, glowing outcome. 

How Velvet wished she’d be able to live up to those expectations. She knew that she should send all the family away. But there was no way the ritual could be done in complete secret. At least, this way she had some control, instead of the little ones sneaking out and interrupting things.

Separated a respectful distance from the Sparkles, the House’s servants came in a loose group. Mrs. Hardtack and Mr. Cane both smiled and nodded to Velvet as they passed her. Both knew something was awry, but also that it was not their place to question. In the inner breast pocket of her frock, Mrs. Hardtack carried a key to a box of letters given to her by Velvet just a few minutes before the family had begun to gather. The box itself sat, hidden, in Mrs. Hardtack’s desk down in her office next to the servant’s quarters. The key weighed heavily on her, and a few times she slowed to glance over her withers at her ladyship. There was nothing she could say or do, no small comfort that could be given, the walls between their respective classes too high to surmount. This was a relief to Velvet. She didn’t want or need any further attempts at consolation or being dissuaded from her course.

The various guards and soldiers that had accumulated around the manor in the past few weeks took up the rear. Velvet paid them little attention, barely enough to acknowledge their presence.  

On reaching the summit of the hill, Velvet cleared her throat and addressed her family in a grave voice, saying, “All of you are to stay put, no matter what happens. I’d much rather you wait in the library, truthfully, but we all know you’d sneak up here regardless.”

There were a smattering of nods, chuckles, and smiles. 

Poor dears. 

Guided by Cadence, Tyr was lead to a spot in front of the wardstone. She gave Tyr a hug and then took her place along the outer rim of the circle. 

Velvet went to her spot, and looked around the rim to make certain everypony else was in place. 

“Follow my lead,” she said, though it was hardly necessary, as she began to pull on her magic.

The ritual started off just as she’d shown the princesses. Velvet laid down the first rune, the powerful divine rune Ablyss, crafting it into the base of all that was to come. The air hissed against the rune’s edges as it formed from the point of Velvet’s horn. Even braced and accustomed to the Dark Runes ways, the hungry pull of the rune almost knocked Velvet to her knees. Ablyss was one of a selection of runes Velvet had always been too afraid of unleashing. 

Closing her eyes, Velvet spread her legs a little more, and paid the rune its toll. Into it she poured little pieces brought up over the past week retelling her past. Guilt, love, moments of joy and despair; she used them to feed the voracious rune. She let out a grunt, and had to wave off Shining as he took a step forward. Ablyss tried to latch onto the spike of love and warm memories that surrounded her son, and for just an instant Velvet began to lose her grip on the rune. 

To the outside observers, Ablyss merely flickered. For Velvet, it was like trying to bind a hungry dragon using thin strands of twine. Heart pounding, a bead of sweat rolling down her brow, she tightened her grip and began the arduous task of placing Ablyss into the casting circle.

Grass yellowed and died as she gently set it upon the ground. Daisies and spring blossoms withered away in seconds. All around Velvet spread a circle of decay. 

A nod signalled Celestia and Luna to begin adding Ursea and Cuil. 

Neither princess had to struggle with their runes. Both flowed as naturally from the princesses as breath. The potent Harmonic runes crackled and snapped as they were bound to their Dark cousin. Fire—golden and ruby—merged with the smokey, oily essence of Ablyss on one side, while on the opposite it was a spinning nexus of greens, yellows, and blues that sang from Cuil. Together, they formed a buttress and buffer for what was to come next.

The same moment the three runes began to touch, Cadence began to call on Abael while Blessed formed the divine rune of the seraphim Raphael, John. From where or how the rune had been discovered remained a mystery whose answers were known only to the Revered Speakers, and Faust herself. Velvet didn’t concern herself with such questions, and chalked it up to Faust being the Goddess of Fate. Velvet herself had found the rune in a very old text hidden away in the family library only a few years earlier.         

She gave these thoughts not even a passing moment, focused entirely on what was to come next. 

Overhead, Selene began to eclipse Sol, and all the disc’s aether was thrown into turmoil.

They had to act fast now, but none so quick as Velvet herself. She had only a few seconds to alter the course and dynamics of the spell from what she’d shown the princesses, to what was necessary to save Tyr. 

Before Abael and John had even fully been integrated into the spell’s base, Velvet set to work. She grabbed hold of Ablyss, and overtop of the rune slammed its sister, P’DoraI, dislodging Ablyss from the weave. 

Celestia and Cadence both called out to Velvet, demanding to know what she was doing, but their words became lost in the rush of wind and magic that poured from the now completed base of their spell. 

At the center of the magic, Tyr squirmed and twitched. 

There was no time to question Velvet, and so all the princesses had to simply trust her. Luna and Blessed both continued their casting without hesitation. Celestia and Cadence quickly followed suit, lest the spell fizzle to disastrous consequences.   

Acting half on instinct, and half desperation, Velvet forged the necessary runes in rapid succession. The whites of her eyes turned to green, with similarly tainted aether leaking around the edges so it appeared she wore a mask of emerald flames. 

Again, Shining made to interfere, this time joined by Pennant. Both were stopped at once by Iridia’s outstretched wings. She shook her head slowly, and though both showed their concern, they didn’t move any further. 

While the others followed the original spell to perfection, Blessed alone showing fatigue and her age as she struggled to keep pace with the trio of goddesses and the Sorceress, Velvet continued down a different path. Everything began to cascade together, runes falling into place one after the other. This was a spell unlike any other seen in two thousand years. Not since the fall of ancient Thuelesia and the start of the Airborean Period had any pony dared to craft a new sigil.

In the corner of her eyes Velvet became aware of the thane standing next to the old oak. She began to cross the grass towards Velvet, heedless of the rolling waves of excess magic rushing across the fields. The thane came to a stop beside Velvet, and started to stretch out a wing.   

The spell increased in tempo, and Velvet’s mana sang in a chorus from her horn. Not just from her, but the others as well. They were a small orchestra, the spell a grand finale to the last movement of some hitherto unknown opera. Tyr was lifted into the air, held by gentle golden bands, spinning slowly as silver and emerald fire washed over her body. Her eyes flitted open and she reached out towards Velvet. She tried to scream something, a warning perhaps, but her voice was utterly subsumed by the music of the spell. 

Leaning over, the thane whispered, “It is near time, Velvet.”

Ignoring the thane, Velvet prepared to place the last of the hundred runes. 

A wide, sad grin grew on her features, and she turned just a little to take one last look at her family. She was so full of life and love in that moment, her heart ready to burst with all the pride and joy her fillies, colts, wives, and husband had brought her. Her eyes connected with each of theirs in turn, and in them she saw awe, worry, confusion, and hope. 

Only Glitterdust and Shining realized what was about to happen. 

Why, no pony could say, but it was Shining who grabbed Glitterdust as she started to charge into the twisting nexus of wild aether. He held her tight while the other Sparkles looked on in surprise and fear. She tried to reach for Velvet, a plaintive hoof outstretched, her wife’s name tearing from her throat.

Velvet mouthed the words, ‘I love you all,’ and reformed Ablyss. The rune came back ten fold as hungry and violent as before, angered, perhaps, by Velvet’s snub only a few minutes earlier. It latched onto her love for her family like a lamprey. This time it would not be dissuaded, and she made no attempt to fight it. Engorged, Ablyss began to cap the spell. 

Everything was cast into chaos. 







Tyr knew only darkness and pain. An ethereal python wrapped her in it’s freezing coils, squeezing the warmth from her small, too frail body, invisible scales grasping her with a cold so deep and biting it seared through skin, through sinew, into her bones, and beyond. She tried to screams and cast off the vile serpent, to hurl it away from her with all the might of her alicorn heritage. Her howls came as no more than a ghostly whisper, while her thrashing passed through the incorporeal beast without effect.

Hard as she tried, never could Tyr break the serpent’s hold, as it was no beast that wrapped her tighter and tighter, but a vast plane of bleak nothingness. It was the Void itself, that indiscernible realm between realms, that divided the physical from the unknowable and strange places within which reside the spirits. 

On one side stood all that was Ioka, with her rivers, mountains, forests, oceans of water, and even space through which the great world-turtle swam. To the other were the places from which dreams were born and carried by the oneiras, the dank halls of shadows and secrets where the hemmravn hid all the knowledge they gathered, and seven hundred other such creations forged by the errant thoughts of gods and demons in a time before time itself, before the first heartbeat and the first mewling babe was birthed in the chaotic swirl of war of creation.  

She spun and plummeted for an age through that dark realm of pristine cold. Madness crept along the fringes of thought, seeping in between the searing agony and edges of hope. 

Death would have been preferable. Or, perhaps she was dead and this was where alicorns went when they died. 

No sooner had the idea begun to crawl along the contours of her mind than she struck something with a wet thwack. Numb, Tyr lay in a shallow layer of water. Looking around showed nothing, not water, not ground, just the endless expanse of the void. It took a while for her to roll to her hooves, almost all of her strength sapped by the cold. She staggered a step, her stomach lurching when she looked down to find infinite waiting beneath her, waiting to swallow her whole. Waiting with all the patience of a space where time was a foreign concept.  

Biting her tongue to hold in a scream, Tyr looked around. There had to be something, anything on which to focus, that she could use as a guidepost. But there were no stars nor horizon. Not a flicker of light twinkled within the void.

Her legs gave out, and Tyr fell hard, chin striking whatever invisible matter it was on which she stood. Hissing back a frustrated scream, she rubbed at the stinging. 

A change in the air rippled across Tyr, pressure building at the base of her horn as the frozen serpent vanished, replaced by a crushing weight. Spots began to pop across her vision and a low hum deafened all thought. Bracing herself, Tyr tried again to take a step. 

She took another, her hoof crashing down with a heavy splash like she were a colossus walking into the ocean. 

Another step, and the pressure became as if the disc itself were riding on her back. 

The spots now popped with such regularity that she was blinded by their ghostly orange afterimage. Through the orange glow she made out a slight movement. She blinked and her heart hitched in her throat. A trick of her mind, no more, she couldn’t allow herself to fall prey to desire and baseless hope. 

Hooves splashed down, but not her own. Out of the orange gloom two shapes took form, striding across the void on long, thundering strides. Her mouth went dry and she started to back away, fright quickening her heart more than any hope. Back legs giving out, Tyr trembled all the more at the ponies before her; Apollo and Aphrodite. 

Around her parents extended an aura that drove back the cold. Rather than provide comfort, it only further drove shivers up her spine at the disgust that twisted their features. Titanic in size, Apollo and Aphrodite loomed over Tyr, their aspects frightful in their rage. Lightning crackled behind their eyes and fire cloaked their wings in billowing curtains. Taller and taller they grew, until they were as mountains. 

“You are not our daughter,” they intoned together in voices that crashed down on Tyr. “She of our essence would never allow herself to be twisted and corrupted as the thing that grovels before us.”

“Our daughter was made strong,” Apollo curled his upper lip and turned away. “Never would she cower and blindly accept the rule of the tyrannical.”

“They stole you from us, and you allowed it.” Aphrodite twisted her eyes shut, shame trembling along her throat. “You did not fight for us, for yourself. Instead, blindly you accepted the imposters.” 

“No!” Tyr protested as loud as she could, but her voice was as the whisper of a butterfly’s wings against the howling wind of a hurricane. “I did—”

“Nothing!” Boomed her titanic parents. “You stood idle as they stole from you, as they took your wings and lustre, as they took us. We are your parents. We are your heritage. All that you are is what we gave to you, and you squandered those gifts. At the first challenge did you fight? Did you prove yourself worthy of the mantle waiting to be claimed? Like a mortal you accepted defeat, instead of bending the world to your will until triumphant. There is no drop of divinity or worth left in this thing that grovels before us.”

Tyr trembled and shook, the words of her parents cutting her to the quick. She could not deny their accusations, as all were true. She hadn’t fought, and instead moped and pouted like a common foal. When disease took hold of her, rather than break the curse ravaging her, she’d allowed others to fight her battles. 

Allowed herself to wallow in self-pity and sympathy. In misery and the shower of affection, surrounded by so much love, given freely when she was a stranger interloping into their family. Not once did they treat her any different than any of their own flesh and blood. Given how much importance mortals placed on such things, it was a wonder she’d never realised how lucky she’d been to fall in with Cadence.

But, what else could have been expected from a goddess of Love?

They’d given her everything she’d ever secretly wanted. Her parents had never shown her one ounce of affection.

For all their flaws. For even being the cause of her illness, Cadence, Shining, Celestia, and the others had only ever had her best interest in heart, never their own. It would have been so much easier to cast her aside, or to outright destroy her. Any potential threat she presented, a not insubstantial upheaval to their entire order at least assured, would have been ended before it could have even begun. 

Tyr never could claim the same about Apollo and Aphrodite.

Only her sister had shown her any passing sort of kindness, and even she’d been too wrapped up in her own affairs to spend more than a few moments with Tyr. Despite being well into her second century of life, she’d spent more time with the ponies of Equestria than any of her original family.  

“You don’t get to judge me,” Tyr snarled, hurling over a hundred years of resentment and longing into the words. “You are supposed to be gods of protection and love, but you know nothing of either! Only your own self-interest and desires. Cadence is a far greater Goddess of Love! When it became clear the damage her inaction caused, she at once went to rectify her mistake. Going so far as to confront a seraph in order to glean a morsel of knowledge that might prove useful.

“You, however, have always put yourself first and foremost. I was a thing to be carted out to the masses and shown off.” Chest heaving, Tyr did not relent at the shock that flashed across the faces of her titanic parents. 

Onto them she hurled a century worth of longing and bitterness. Their abandonment became spears, Cadence’s acceptance a coat of armour, and thusly girded Tyr unleashed everything she’d ever wished to say. Accusations, recriminations, hatred and love, self-doubt, and the awakening Equestria had brought about were all brought to bear. Quickly they flew, one atop the other in a restless need to be spoken, until Tyr’s chest heaved with spent ire and tears stained her cheeks.   

Underneath her barrage, Aphrodite and Apollo began to shrink. Neither had any counter to Tyr’s onslaught of pent up emotions. Smaller and smaller they became, until they were no larger than normal.

“I don’t need you anymore,” Tyr concluded, the words shocking herself more so than even the spectres of her parents.   
  
Her declaration seemed to shock Aphrodite, who blinked and rocked on her hooves as if physically struck. Next to her, Apollo merely contorted his features into an enraged sneer, and vanished. A ripple crossed Aphrodite, like wind skipping atop a grassy field, and a softness came to her eyes. 

“My daughter…” She clamped her mouth shut, and shook out her long, bouncing mane of pinks and golds. 

Tyr became aware through the dissipating anger that had carried her thus far that something was awry with the image of her mother. Behind Aphrodite appeared a familiar arch, one that lead to her grand temple on Cyprus. Though numerable years had passed since Tyr had last seen the temple, its corinthian columns and vaulted roof filled her with a subtle comforting warmth, as they had done the first time she’d been brought to be shown to the masses of Aphrodite’s followers. The memory could not last against the tempest raging in her heart, and was quickly lost among unearthed bitterness. 

Resettling her haughty pose, Aphrodite asked, “Is that your judgement?”  

The question struck a chord in Tyr, resonating through her in a pleasant chime, silencing all the turbulence and turmoil tormenting her. 

It was simply wrong how she’d been raised. An injustice had been committed, stretched over her entire life until it tainted every aspect of her being. Her parents abused the naive, absolute trust of their foal. It was wrong, and the wrongness of it all set her every fibre on fire with a need to see the crimes redressed. 

Losing everything tying her to Gaea freed her to finally see what had been done. She’d never have realised the truth without the light cast by Cadence. 

A slender, hesitant smile inched along her muzzle. Around her Tyr could feel the presences of Cadence, Shining, Celestia, Luna, and Velvet. Their love, given without preamble or condition swelled in her chest.

“You are not my mother. You never were.” Tyr flared her wings and spat the proclamation, and it felt so right. Proper.  

Aphrodite vanished, along with the temple behind her, and in their place Tyr was confronted by a different temple, or perhaps palace. One made of the whitest marble, the face imposing and proud. At the top of a long series of stairs stood a statue of herself, but not herself. It was a stallion raised on his back hooves. His right fore-leg was shorn off at the knee, while from his left hoof dangled a set of scales. 

Palace and statue existed just long enough for Tyr to let out an exclamation, then both disappeared, and Tyr was falling again.







Fear slashed across Velvet’s heart as a devastating blast of foreign magic erupted from the very heart of the circle. The runes, so carefully laid, began to unravel, all the energy placed within bursting in a long chain. Jets of multicoloured fireworks spun into the sky in long, ear-piercing shrieks that ended with terrific bangs, one on top of the next, as though a hundred cannon ship-of-the-line had been conjured with both broadsides roaring. 

A heavy blow struck Velvet’s chest, throwing her up and away from the center of the conflagration. Spinning backwards, time seemed to slow to a crawl, though this too could have been some effect of so much magic released in a contained space. Celestia and Iridia were both well protected behind their own protective barriers, confusion and strain etched into their all but frozen faces.. That Iridia had reacted so fast was impressive enough, her wide shield even sheltering the other onlookers, while Celestia managing to abandon one spell for  another within a sliver of a second would have been beyond awe inspiring at any other time. Luna had been just a little slower, showing in the few sparks that had made it behind her shield, singeing her cheek, while Cadence just barely managed to deflect the bulk of the onrushing energy in time. Blessed was not so quick, and like Velvet, the Revered Speaker was sent hurtling through the air.

In that moment, Velvet was unprepared for the return of all the emotional energy she’d fed into the various Dark runes. The joys: the brush of Growler’s lips on her own, the first bleats of all her foals, the day she’d first set eyes on the endless expanse of forest forming the western Taiga. The fears: River’s first coughing fit, Gamla Uppsala’s tunnels collapsing all around her, and being dragged, bound and gagged, back into those same tunnels by laughing Diamond Dogs. The guilt: Sylph’s final words, her myriad betrayals of those who’d put their faith and trust in her, and her failure to reach Growler. And the sorrows: the loss of so many, ponies and halla; her parents, friends, loves, and, lastly, River. She shook and spasmed as if caught in the pulsing strobe of lightning as each pummeled her with its return in an unrelenting stampede. 

Velvet was barely aware of landing several lengths away from the casting circle, the smell of burnt fur that stung her eyes and nose lost in the maelstrom.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard a voice…  Cadence screaming Tyr’s name, then others calling her own. Between the blades of swaying grass she caught sight of Glitterdust and Limelight, seemingly untethered to the earth as they rushed to her side. There, too, was Comet, holding Whisper tight, the small mare trembling at his side, her face buried in his neck. 

Then Glitterdust was at her side. “Love! Velvet, can you hear me?” she shouted, her hooves moving over Velvet’s barrel and then cradling her head. “Please, dear Faust, don’t be dead.”

“I’m fine,” Velvet croaked, honestly believing the lie—if only for a second. She brushed back Glitterdust’s gold and magenta mane, smiling despite the terrified eyes that stared down at her. Faust, she could have stared into those luscious eyes, rimmed with fright and consternation as they were, for years. She couldn’t, and the peaceful moment passed all too quickly into worry. “Tyr… Blessed… Are they?”

Glitterdust shook her head. 

Icy fear raked through Velvet, chilling her blood and making the disc spin. She tried to stand, but her back legs just twitched in response, their entire length numb.  

“Blessed looks… okay,” Limelight supplied, her head craned up to look around the hilltop. “I can’t see Tyr, though.”  

“Help me.” Velvet tried to pull herself up, one leg hooked around Glitterdust’s neck, only to slip and fall back to the hard earth. “Help me up.” 

She growled at her weakness and rolled to her side with Glitterdust and Limelight’s help. Terror twisted in her gut at the thought of what she’d find. Her legs wobbling beneath her, Velvet almost had to push Limelight out of the way to reach what remained of the casting circle.

The energy of the broken spell had become such that the casting circle’s lines had become glass, and the rest of the ground glowed molten hot. A jagged fissure split the wardstone from top to bottom, and half of the old oak had been blackened, sooty skeletal branches twisted and tangled together by the chaotic nexus of exploding magic. For all the intensity, the release of energy had been contained to a rather small area; all focused on Tyr. 

Celestia and Luna stood close together, blocking Velvet’s view with their broad wings. Leaning heavily on Glitterdust, Velvet shambled ever closer, dread building in her gut with every step.

At the epicentre, the forces on Tyr… 

Velvet shook her head sharply to prevent her thoughts from spiralling. Instead, she stumbled and nearly fell, her head spinning and pounding. Vertigo and dread gripped her stomach in icy claws, nearly spilling its contents at every step. 

Just a little further…

For the briefest moment she was back in Gul Moloch’s arena, the roars of the crowd reaching up from the darkness of the past. A filly lay just out of reach, but, instead of the barklike skin and leafy mane of a dryad, it was the soft cream coat and tri-coloured mane of Tyr. Her insides twisted, and all Velvet could think was, ‘I failed again.’

A few more steps…  

She had to know. All that energy… three goddesses, could it have harmed Tyr? She was the Sorceress, had spent her entire life immersed in mysteries few dared dream of as a shadow of possibility, yet she had no idea why the ritual had failed, or why half of Sparkledale wasn’t a crater. 

Just a few… 

The princesses were pushed out of the way. Not by Velvet, but by Tyr herself, vital and full of energy. Shocked speechless, Velvet staggered harder against Glitterdust as Tyr slammed into her and squeezed her tight.

“You scared me.” Tyr shouted into Velvet’s shoulder. “When I saw all the destruction, and you were missing…” 

Tyr broke the hug, stepping back and thrusting out a long, slender wing as though to add poking Velvet in the chest to her continuing admonishments. There was a brief pause as every eye turned to focus on the offending limb. With a cry of pure shock, Tyr jumped and twisted around to stare at her restored formed. Everypony crowded around them, each speaking and shouting over the other to create an indecipherable din.

Velvet’s head spun faster, and all at once the fortress of her mind broke underneath the shifting emotions. She sank to the scorched ground and wept. Joy, despair, self-recrimination, utter relief; her emotions were too confused and conflicted, switching from so many extremes in the span of a few moments. 

It was Elegant who brought quiet back to the hilltop with her shrill cry of, “You got your cutie mark!”

Tyr blinked a few times at Elegant, a pinch to her brow, before a jab of the filly’s hoof to her flank made her twist her head around. A slow glow spread across Tyr, her wings unable to be contained in her budding excitement. Contained within a laurel wreath stood a vertical sword, a set of scales balanced upon their point, all still glowing from their emergence. 

“What does it mean?” Adamant asked, crawling up onto Two-Step’s back in order to get a clearer view. 

“Justice,” she replied without hesitation, her voice oddly flat, and a little sad. The grin that had grown on first seeing her mark became brittle, cracked, and then Tyr was sinking onto the burnt grass. “I’m the Goddess of Judgement.”  

“Are you alright?” Cadence raised Tyr’s chin with a wingtip. 

“No. Yes. Both, I guess. I had a vision, and…” She shook her head and tried to put on a brave grin. “All part of your spell, I guess.”

A harsh snort broke from Luna. “Nay, the spell failed at the last instant. A good thing too, as somepony changed it without informing anypony. If I am not mistaken, and I very well could be, but those alterations would have cost the caster their life. That was a very foolish thing you attempted, Lady Sparkle.” 

“It should have been the only way to break the Fostering,” Velvet explained, her voice weak in her own ears.  

“Well, whatever happened, it has all turned out for the best.” Cadence looked pointedly at everypony, as if daring them to rebuff her. “That damned curse is gone, and may it never be cast again! Everypony is well, if a few a little singed, and this whole sordid chapter can be put behind us at last.”

Drained, with her head starting to ache from the sheer amount of magic expended, Velvet called to Mrs. Hardtack to have something prepared for lunch and brought to the garden. Almost in a fugue from happiness and relief, she kissed Glitterdust and Limelight on the cheek. She wanted to hug and kiss all her family, and just never let any of them go. 

“I’m so glad that, for once, your plans failed, my love,” Glitterdust whispered, laying her head against Velvet’s neck. “And if you ever—ever!—try something so daft again, I’ll kill you myself.” 

They spent the rest of the day in the gardens, laughing, talking, enjoying each other’s company. Around them, the foals raced and played, hooting with happiness; later, they took to re-enacting the spell, Spike using his fiery breath to mimic in miniature the moment it was sundered.  

Velvet used the time to plan and contemplate. The wardstone needed to be replaced as soon as possible. Its loss was a shame and dampened the victory, if just a little. A thousand years, dozens of generations work, destroyed. Even were it possible to mend the physical stone, the enchantments would never be salvaged. 

There was opportunity too, in replacing the wardstone. Already, ideas circulated in the back of Velvet’s mind. When her ancestors had placed the stone they’d already cast aside the Dark and Chaotic runes. With access to them, there was so many more options open to Velvet. 

As soon as she returned from Manehatten and the funerals were complete, she’d begin in earnest. 

A little more of Velvet’s happiness sank at the reminder of the loss of her sister and her family. With everything else going on, it’d been easy to push it back. Now… 

Velvet let out a sad sigh and called Mr. Cane over. “I need you to go into town and get four tickets on the late-night train east, Mr. Cane. Have Miss Darning pack a travel case for the both of you, Limelight, and myself.”

He didn’t question, bless his soul, the order expected for some time. He’d already packed his own luggage the previous afternoon, and set aside some appropriate attire for Velvet. 

With a curt nod, Mr. Cane hurried off.

“It looks like your lessons are going to have to start on the worst possible subjects, Limelight.”

Grimacing, Limelight simply nodded. 

An hour passed, the manor settling into a peaceful state. Coffee and tea was brought around, along with some warm biscuits fresh from the oven to tide everypony over until dinner. Shortly after tea, a guard came up to the gazebo. He saluted sharply, and passed a collection of scrolls and notes to Celestia. Among them, Velvet spied no less than three tied with red ribbons to denote their urgency. 

Everypony grew quiet as Celestia read the notes in quick succession. Her fabled mask was in full effect, and nopony other than perhaps Luna could have hoped to guess her thoughts. The mask cracked at the last of the scrolls, Celestia growing rigid with what Velvet took to be a mix of fear and shock. 

It lasted for only an instant, and then the mask returned.

“Apparently, our vacation is at an end,” Celestia pushed herself up and motioned with a wing for Luna to follow. “I must return to Canterlot, there has been trouble in Ponyville, again. Also, a group of halla seem to have crossed the mountains some time ago. There has been trouble between them and the village of Diamond’s Down.”

“Diamond’s Down?” Luna tilted her head to the side in thought. “I have a teleport anchor not far from there. A half-hour by wing at the most. I shall go and see what has transpired.”

“Perhaps you should take Iridia with you?”

“Because they are halla?” Luna flattened her ears. “I doubt she could assist in her current condition, Tia…”  

Ears pricking up at the mention of halla, Iridia left her spot next to the railing. “Oh, that is the new Lioness Lodge,” Iridia commented around a mouthful of biscuit and cheese. “They’ve made a herd and have been crossing into Equestria. A little over two-hundred of them, in fact.”

Luna flicked her attention over to Iridia, her mouth pressed into a sour line. “They have? And you knew, and didn’t think to inform Celestia or myself?” 

“Of course I knew. They pray to me every morn and dusk. I don’t have near enough supplicants that they’d get lost in the noise. As for telling you; when would I have found the opportunity, both of you doing your level best to avoid my presence until this last day?” There was no bite to Iridia’s reply, rather, it was carried with a giggling bounce of playfulness. A glimmer of joy made Iridia dance a little on the spot. “I wonder if Thundering Mountain is with them. I hope he is.”

The name tickled Velvet’s ear, and she turned around to join the conversation. “The scrawny little fawn from Ironbark Vale? That Thundering Mountain?”

“He was hardly scrawny, or a fawn, even when the Eagles brought him to Thornhaven.” Iridia gave Velvet a playful nudge, followed by a vivacious wink. She quickly sobered, though not all the excitement left her as she rattled off a quick explanation for the family. “You left a big mark on the Taiga, Velvet. Holm Mountain and Snowflake were the only two bear masters to survive the Battle of the First Vale. While she settled down and her troops disbanded back into their herds, he was ready to march on Reinalla itself to free me. Some misguided notion I was the Eagles’ prisoner entered his head. Ha! Thornhaven is my home, not theirs.” Iridia chuckled and fluffed out her wings. “As if they could hold me if I wished to leave.”

She paused, and her face twitched in annoyance before adding, “To prevent a civil war, certain fawns and younglings from key lineages were exchanged. I may also have, from time to time, visited the various new towns set up at the vales. Hmmm, now I think on it, I should probably head home soon just to make certain they haven’t taken my departure as an excuse to club each other over the antlers.”

Celestia fully agreed with Iridia returning to the Taiga as soon as possible to prevent a civil war, and reiterated that Luna should take their aunt with her. Luna tried to argue, pointing to how Iridia was already wobbling on her hooves, eyes focused beyond the material plane as she tended to the flow of life giving energy washing across the disc. 

“She’s growing more lucid, Luna. And if it is her the halla are trying to find, it makes sense to take her to them. I don’t want any more misunderstandings between our little ponies and the halla.” 

Looking over to Velvet, Luna suggested, “Perhaps you should come as well?” 

Velvet brought her hooves up quickly to fend off the idea. “I am the last pony you would want near any true Halla, trust me.” She then leaned over to wrap a hoof around Whisper’s back. “Besides, that part of my life is behind me now.”      
  
A slight despondency came over Iridia, her grin sliding off her face while her wings came to settle along her back. Velvet could see there was something her friend wanted to say, but didn’t yet have the words. She hovered there between giving her thoughts voice, and hiding them away once more. 

Velvet waved a hoof in a shooing motion. “Go,” she added for emphasis. “Deal with this wayward herd. None of us are going anywhere.”  

Despite assurances, Iridia lingered, only moving off when Luna called to her for the third time in a row. She quick-stepped up to Luna, and then they vanished in a silver flash, off to the west and north. 

Celestia departed only a few minutes later by chariot. She waved to the ponies down below, swung once around the manor, and set off towards Canterlot. 

Content, Velvet leaned back, and let out a long, happy sigh. Before she could begin to relax, however, an early dinner arrived on steaming platters. Mrs. Hardtack had tables and awnings out, and the silverware laid in splendid order. 

What they ate escaped Velvet’s attention. It was a decent meal, that was certain, but the specifics eluded her as thoughts began to wander into a vague, tired haze. There was so much laughter and brilliant smiles, that Velvet was at peace. 

Desert came and went, and Sol sank towards the western rim.

Cadence was aware of the shift in the air first, the way her ears pricked up and eyes darted across the fields giving the others just a moment before there was a brilliant lavender flash next to the gazebo. 

Before the light had fully dissipated, Star was scrambling out of her chair. “Twilight!” Star yelled, bounding out onto the grass and then around her sister. “How are you here? Did you teleport all the way from the ship?”

“Heya, Little Star,” Twilight wore a strained smile, and reached down to ruffle Star’s mane, only for her hoof to pass right through her sister. Grimacing, she let out a little sigh. “Right. Astral projection. Can’t touch anything.”

Star’s eyes glittered, and she let out a long gasp. “When did you learn this spell? Who taught it to you? Can you teach me? What runes does it use?”

“Slow down there, give Twily some room,” Shining chided softly, pulling Star back a little so she wasn’t trampled beneath their siblings in their rush to greet their eldest sister. 

As delighted to see Twilight as everypony else, Velvet couldn’t help but be concerned as well. She’d seen Twilight fake happiness when something weighed on her mind too many times not to recognise the expression. There was a droopiness to her ears, and a heaviness to her step that couldn’t be fully hidden.

Still, she didn’t press, and instead watched as Twilight greeted each of her siblings in turn. Whatever troubled Twilight was lifted a little by the time she reached Tyr. Twilight gave Tyr just a little nod, then said, “You got your wings back. That must feel great. We should go flying sometime, when I get back to Canterlot.”

Tyr, who’d been in the process of a stiff half-bow, gave a wide, dopey grin, and bobbed her head eagerly. “Yes! And my lustre. I can feel the earth again! And the sky!” She beat her wings quickly a few times, enough to lift her just a bit off the wood flooring of the gazebo. “And I found my domain too!” She added, turning a bit to show off her cutie mark while telling Twilight all about what her mark meant. 

“That’s great.” A little more honest happiness inflicted Twilight’s tone. “I guess you’ll be helping Princess Celestia and Princess Luna with court, huh?”

Gasping, Tyr covered her mouth. “I hadn’t thought of that!”

With that, a new game was made, that of Judge Tyr. She gathered up the other foals, and went to play. Even Star took part, set up in a shady place where she could sit and pretend to be the prosecution. The foals’ grasp of law and courtly etiquette was rather poor, to say the least, and more than a few times came the resounding shout of, ‘Objection!’ from Elegant, she having been selected as the defense. It was good to see Tyr, at last, being just a regular, normal foal.

Even if she was also a goddess.
 
“Everypony is okay?” Twilight asked as she settled next to Cadence, and across from her mothers. She looked pointedly at Star, worry playing at the corner of her mouth. 

“Perfectly fine, now. Star just took a bit of a tumble the other night. She’ll be fine in no time at all. What about you? Why are you sending an astral projection of yourself over a thousand miles? That has to be taxing.”

“Huh?” Twilight blinked a few times and jerked her head away from where her siblings played. “Oh, yeah, a little. It just takes some time getting used to the experience, that’s all. Luna can make two actual clones, after-all. I should be able to master this. Honestly, it is a little like when I extend myself into the stars. Except, everypony can see me.” She wiggled a hoof, as if for emphasis. 

“Mother also kept them in relatively close proximity, Twilight,” cautioned Cadence. “Be careful, okay?”

Pouring a little lukewarm coffee for herself, Velvet clicked her tongue loudly. “You didn’t answer my question. I know about astral projections, Twilight. Tell us what is bothering you.”

Ears folded back, Twilight let out a long, nervous titter and looked everywhere but at her mother. Now, Velvet had no doubt something was wrong. For Twilight to break her promise not to leave the ship transporting her to Zebrica, it had to be something important on her mind. Even if, technically, Twilight hadn’t left the ship, her body remaining behind. 

“Celestia and Luna aren’t around?” Twilight asked and swung her head this way and that in an overly exaggerated motion.

Whisper groaned and, with a little bite to her tone, replied. “They left a little while ago, honey. Now, answer your mother.” 

Instead of a direct answer, Twilight looked down at her hooves in shame. Her tail swished a few times as she turned over various responses in her head, a little droop entering her wings. Everypony at the table waited, all well used to Twilight’s eccentricities. 

“How do you do it mother?” She eventually asked. “How do you deal with having hurt somepony? Being responsible for them dying.” A heavy sigh made Twilight sink further into, and through, her chair. “After Countess Lulamoon died in that duel, and everypony started calling you the Bloody Baroness behind your back, you never seemed bothered by it at all. You just… I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I got a bunch of ponies killed today,” Twilight admitted, her voice hitching in her throat so that she had to take a few seconds to regain her composure. “Pinkie and Rainbow almost died as well. Fleur is in a coma. Everypony has been trying to tell me it’s okay. We just had the funeral for the sailors, and I just needed…”

Pity and understanding washed over Velvet, and she let out a quiet, “I know, love. I know. Whatever happened, happened.” She slipped away from Glitterdust and Whisper, moving to sit beside Twilight. Unable to offer a hug, given Twilight wasn’t truly there in a physical manner, she tried her best to console Twilight. “Everypony is different, and some handle guilt better than others. Don’t dwell on things, but don’t forget either. Take what you learn and put it somewhere safe. You think of your mind as a library, so, make the experiences a scroll, and tuck away in a safe place where it can remind you of what you did wrong, but doesn't control every moment of your life. And, when you inevitably make other mistakes, repeat the process.”

“That makes it just like any other learning experience,” Twilight protested, head jerking up. “Doesn’t that, I don’t know, demean their sacrifices?” 

Velvet sighed, and thought back to all the friends she’d lost over the years, and all those she’d killed. Growler, Sylph, Sombra, Juniper, Violet and Red Phosphorous struck her the most. If she closed her eyes their faces would appear in perfect clarity. King and Prince Selim, and the diamond dogs of Gur Moloch. For a brief instant, she wondered what had happened to the city, if it still survived, or had one of the other diamond dog cities had come in conquest following the loss of its armies.

“No. It would be worse to become crippled by guilt, or to forget them entirely.”

Twilight stared into space, and thought over her mother’s advice. Eventually, a tiny smile began to creep along the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, mother. That helps, I think.”

“Good.” Velvet clapped her hooves once. “Now, if that’s settled, you better float over to Star and sate her curiosity a little before you poof back to the Bellerophon, or nopony will hear the end of it.”    

Giggling, Twilight went to join the foals, waving back and her parents as she left.

Velvet relaxed at long last, and wondered what adventures awaited her family in the future. Would it be Adamant, a young knight duty-sworn to his niece-princess? Melody and Elegant, ever inseparable, working their way through the pitfalls and secret dealings of the nobility and gentry? Star, without a doubt, would strive to take her place among the other eminent wizards, chasing after her heroes. Pennant was set on her course in the navy, but would she attain an admiral’s flag? Limelight was now the House Heir, and much hardships awaited her, all the scheming and politics of the nobility laying in wait to pounce. How would she fare in that deadly game? Two-Step belonged in academia, or perhaps a detective agency, putting his beautiful mind to work. As for Twilight, well, adventures would always be in her future. The same held true for Shining. Being married to a princess-goddess was not conducive to a quiet, settled lifestyle. 

The warm spring breeze washed through Velvet’s mane. Her adventures were, at last, over. It was time others took the spotlight.       
	
	

> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	



Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone
By Tundara

Epilogue



Velvet woke to the distant bells of Sparkledale’s temple tolling over the fields, as they’d done every day for the past week to mark the loss of one of the nation’s heroes.

Stifling a yawn, she squirmed out from between Comet and Glitterdust. Sitting down at her vanity, she began to brush her mane. Her ear twitched, and the slightest hint of a frown played at one corner of her lips.  

The manor was so quiet. 

Empty.

With the departures of the princesses, so too their guards had left, creating a hole that had yet to be filled. The loss of the little clinks of armour, the crinkle of their cotton undercoats, and the slight noise of their breathing created a void that danced just along the fringes of awareness, much as their presence had done before. 

While Celestia and Luna once more resumed their thrones, Cadence, Shining, and Tyr were due to return to the Crystal City within the week. Preparations needed to be made for the Summer Sun Celebration in both nations, and Cadence had a truly massive heap of paperwork and affairs to settle once she was back in her nation. 

Star, naturally, was back in the dorms at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, no doubt retelling the story of all the magic she’d seen during Season recess. Whisper had elected to stay in Canterlot with Limelight while she settled into her new role as an aide to the Madam Speaker of the House of Ladies. No sooner had they packed their bags than Pennant received orders to report to the Princess Celestia as the ship’s Second Lieutenant. Such a position almost guaranteed her receiving a promotion in the next year.   

Through all this, Velvet stood idle. Following the funeral, nopony sought to do anything but give her space. 

After all the activity of the past month, it was strange to have nothing to do.  

The first hints of noise came from the foals’ rooms, followed shortly after by Miss Darning’s voice as she prepared them for the carriage ride into town for school. Sometimes Velvet regretted departing from tradition and not hiring a governess. No more so when the laughter and little squabbles faded and was followed by the clop of hooves as they departed. 

She joined Glitterdust and Comet for breakfast, and little was said. Comet made a few comments about the continued failure of his hoofball team. Glitterdust spoke of inviting a friend from Manehatten to visit. Otherwise they ate in silence. 

For a little while Velvet turned her attention to working on her grimoire. Without the weight of impending doom resting on her withers, she’d decided to give it far greater detail and depth. Enchantment was layered atop enchantment, allowing entire chapters to rearrange themselves, turning what was at first glance a book of little more than a hundred pages into a limitless repository for her knowledge.

The ring of the doorbell reached her up in the study, but she did not move, intent on the spell formula in front of her. 

She didn’t even raise her head when Mr. Cane knocked on the door. 

“Ma’am, there is someone here to speak with you.” There was an odd quiver to his voice that made her pause. “She waits in the library.”   

Setting aside her quill, Velvet stood and set off at an easy pace, wondering who had called to visit. Coming into the entrance hall she found several of the staff had created or found excuses to be near the library. Flowers were re-arranged in their urns, pictures were being dusted, and Mr. Halfpint was giving the long mirror a thorough inspection for the minutest speck of dust, his ear cocked towards the door where Mrs. Hardtack stood vigil, rough and rigid as ever.

“Ma’am, you may wish to brace yourself,” she cautioned as Velvet picked up the pace in her stride. 

Ignoring their antics, she put the staff out of thought and stepped into the library. Her greetings faltered, barely formed, in her mouth as she saw a short, off-white halla standing next to the window. The sunlight made her magenta and pink mane shine, and danced off the gold tags dangling from her short, blunt antlers. At the sound of the door opening, the halla turned around, a constrained, nervous grin on her broad features that pulled at the corners of light brown eyes.

“Mother,” she said, “It be good to meet you.”   


The End of Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone.