~JetpackClam
Chapter One – Summer Snow
The first thing Twilight noticed was that she couldn't see. A vast, amaranthine void stretched out before her, flooding her eyes with darkness as pure and black as a starless sky. It closed in around her, crushing her beneath its weight; it was like she was being suffocated, as if she'd been put at the bottom of an ocean of shadow and left to drown. She was sinking into oblivion like a waterlogged plank, powerless to stop herself as she slipped further and further into the hollow, unfeeling depths - and it terrified her.
The air was unnaturally cold against her skin. It was as if the sun had suddenly decided to leave, to vanish from the dome of the sky and to take all the light and warmth in the world along with it. She imagined this was how it felt inside a morgue; dark as blood, cold as ice, silent as death. A haunting chill permeated the air and sucked all the heat from Twilight's body, leaving her cold and empty, as though the claws of death itself had ripped her heart from her chest.
She had no idea where she was, and something told her that she really didn't want to find out. All she knew right then was that she wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. She didn't care where she was, as long as she was free from this sea of impregnable darkness.
In her mind, she painted a picture of home. She visualized her library in the heart of Ponyville, and imagined herself surrounded by a familiar labyrinth of books. She expected to feel the familiar sensation of magic rushing down from her horn and filling her body like warm milk, but nothing came. She frowned; her horn felt numb, almost as if it wasn't there at all.
Fear started to rear up inside her. She tried to conjure a light in the hopes of at least dispersing the darkness, but it was useless.
She tried to scream. Nothing came.
Then, just as she was about to be consumed by terror, she finally saw something. The world came into existence around her like the set of a play being put together right before her eyes. There was light, however dim; there was a dark, cloudy sky hanging overhead; there was ground beneath her hooves. And before her, she saw a colossal mountain towering up into the clouds, reaching far above the land and scraping the fabric of the sky.
The mountain was steep, and as jagged as shark's teeth, but the mountain levelled out near the summit. She froze; there, she saw two alien figures locked in combat, trading blows with one another in a brutal, yet graceful, duet of death. In their hands, they held ornate silver blades; the iridescent metal gleamed as though infused with the brilliance of the stars, hungry for flesh, thirsty for blood. With each time the blades met, a crash like thunder rang out across the sky, and the ground shook beneath their feet, as though the Earth itself was trembling under the force. They wore an onyx tapestry of silk and chain which covered most of their bodies; Twilight would remember the tunic as having looked like a cross between a soldier's hauberk and a sorcerer's vestments, flowing down from their necks and ending past their knees a rippling cascade of sleek, diaphanous black. Matching cloaks were draped over their shoulders, radiating sheer, untainted beauty as though they were sewn from the night itself.
What was visible of their skin; their arms, their hands, their feet; was beige with the lightest hints of a tan, hairless except for the trace amounts of scruff clinging to their faces like moss to a rock. Long, flowing manes of hair flowed down to their shoulders: one was wavy, the other smooth; one black, and one white. Tufts of equally black fur, like a bear's, lined their robes, making them seem even larger than they actually were. They both possessed the strength and vigor of youth, but weariness hung over the two like a raincloud dampening their spirits. In their eyes, she saw a spark of ancient wisdom that only many lifetimes worth of experience could give.
She saw something else as well. Something which, to her, was even more rare: suffering. Loss. Anger. Twilight knew nothing of these two; she'd never seen anything like them before in her life. But she felt their pain all the same.
For a moment, there was a lull in the chaos. The winds calmed somewhat, but not enough to quell the storm which threatened to tear the heavens apart overhead. The two disengaged, withdrawing from each other wordlessly and jumping back to the edge of the clearing. Their boots dug into the snow as they landed, leaving heavy prints in the ground as they skid to a halt at opposite ends of the field. Their eyes never left each other.
They began to speak. The tongue was one that Twilight couldn't understand, but occasionally, she heard strings of words that, for whatever reason, she was able to decipher.
... anentireworldliesdeadatyourfeet.
Aworldtheystolefromustobeginwith.
You'reonetospeakoftakingthatwhichisn'tyours...
Their voices carried easily over the storm which engulfed the mountaintop, until, as suddenly as they'd stopped, they jumped back into the fray. The two met in a hurricane of silver, slashing, hacking, parrying each other viciously, like a pair of rabid dogs fighting to the last gasp.
Twilight could do nothing but look on in horror as the struggle escalated, until, at last, the black-haired one gained the upper hand. There was an arc of steel across the sky, a trail of gold following in its wake. His rival collapsed, clutching his wrist as he fell to the ground; from what Twilight could see, a part of his foreleg had been severed, leaving an ugly stump of a limb behind. Golden liquid gushed from the wound, staining the snow beneath the color of honey. His weapon flew through the air before embedding itself into the snow, buried up to the hilt in the ground a few endless meters away.
The black-haired one's eyes showed neither triumph nor remorse. They were empty. He placed his foot atop his adversary's chest, readying his blade as though to strike at his throat. But before anything could happen, the two disappeared, taking what little she saw of the world with them and plunging her back into the strangling hold of darkness.
Then, a voice filled her ears, speaking to her as if from everywhere, but nowhere in particular. It was behind her, beside her, above her, inside her head, but it wasn't in any of these places. She couldn't see him, but somehow, she knew the voice belonged to the one with black hair; firm, deep and clear, it carried with it the wisdom and power to surpass even that of Princess Celestia herself. But she heard something else, too, something buried in his voice like a fossil buried deep within the crust of the earth. Regret.
"TwilightSparkle... apprenticeto... toPrincessCelestia... I, Áran'in, LordofSouls, speak... directlytoyou."
Twilight wanted to yell, to demand that the voice's owner show himself, but she couldn't. She had no choice but to listen as the presence continued;
"Icometoyounow... togiveyouawarning. Soon... verysoon... youwillbepaidavisitbyan... oldfriendofmine. Ifallowed, hewillbringruinto... everythingyouholddear. Neitheryou... norCelestia... noteventheElementsofHarmonywillbeabletostophim. Thatresponsibility... lieswithme.
"But... Ineedyourhelp. Formillennia, I'vebeenshackledwithchainsofstone... cursedtobeaprisonerwithinmyownbody, untilthesunitselffadedaway. Findme, TwilightSparkle... andfreemefrommybonds... thatImaymeetthisevil, andatlastputanendtowhathestarted... towhatwestarted... allthosecountlessyearsago.
"Thisworldhasforgottenme... butI'venotforgottenyou."
Then, the voice faded. She was alone.
Something told her that she should have woken up right then, but something else kept her from doing so. She felt something... cold, grasping her by the hoof; she struggled, but the icy grip held firm, like a cuff made of steel chaining her to the plane of the dream. She looked down, and this time, her scream rang clear out across the abyss.
It was a hand; that much was clear, but she had never seen a hand before which looked quite like this one. It was thin, bony, with five angular fingers wrapped around her ankle; It was hairless, and lacked any sort of claws to speak of; the skin was drooping and wrinkled, with what seemed to be veins pressed against the flesh from underneath. It disappeared below the wrist, as though the hand's owner was hiding in the shadows just beyond the edge of her vision. But what stood out to her most of all was the color.
The hand was white as snow.
Without thinking, she readied the most potent spell she could; the energy built in her horn for a moment before discharging towards her captor in an enormous burst of light. This spell could have fatally injured a Hydra, but the hand simply recoiled as if stung by an insect, releasing her from its bone-chilling grip with an indignant gasp of pain. Twilight willed herself to wake before the monstrosity could recover; as the world disappeared around her, the cry turned into an enraged scream.
The nightmare was over.
Twilight's eyes fluttered open. The world was a blur, swimming around in her head like a pool of muddy water as she slowly drifted out of her languid state. She was wrapped in a blanket that was more comfortable than it had any right to be, and for a moment, the purple unicorn's mind was clear of all thought as she basked in the warmth of her silken cocoon.
She sighed, letting the tranquil ambiance of the morning lull her nearly back to sleep as she pulled the covers closer in to her body. She was suspended, floating, comfortably numb, in a pool of her own blissful, ignorant succor. It was so perfect, she wished she could stay like this forever.
But before she could fall back asleep, the memory of the dream came crashing down on her like a meteor striking the earth. She remembered everything: the pair of two-legged warriors battling atop the summit as the apocalypse unfolded around them; the terror she felt as the world fell like a house of cards, as they traded killing blows like they were nothing. She remembered the cryptic message, the voice that spoke to her as if from inside, and outside, her head. She remembered being powerless, being unable to move, and being forced to bear witness to the spectacle playing out before her. She remembered the white hand, clutching her, pulling her down...
She shot straight up with a gasp, letting the covers slide off her shoulders as she was enveloped in the gentle warmth of the sun. Her heart thumped frantically against her ribcage, pumping fear through her veins and rinsing all traces of sleep from her body. She gasped for breath, letting the brisk morning air fill her lungs as her eyes darted wildly about the room.
The sight of shelves lining the walls, filled end to end with books of various shades and sizes, assured her that she was safe and sound in Ponyville's library. She caught the familiar scent of parchment wafting through the air; she let the fragrance fill her mind, washing away the ubiquitous fog of panic in a soothing, aromatic wave of clarity. The pounding in her chest grew lighter and lighter with each second that passed, until only a light, rhythmic beating remained.
She relaxed; she was calm. She closed her eyes and fell unceremoniously back onto the bed. She pulled the sheets back up and covered her face In her hooves, wiping the sweat from her brow and massaging her temples at the same time. She inhaled sharply, holding in her breath for a moment, before releasing the air from her chest in a sigh.
Her eyes were shut tight, but she was as awake as she could be. Now that coherence had returned to her, her mind set itself to poring over the dream from a rational perspective. She could still remember everything perfectly: the sights and sounds reconstructed themselves more vividly than even the most lucid of dreams could be; the hill, the two atop the hill; that hideous hand as it wrapped its icy fingers around her leg; the cryptic warning that Equestria was about to be attacked.
Her eyes shot open.
She was far from superstitious, but she knew better than anypony not to underestimate the weight of dreams. To ignore such a warning about what was to come would be foolish, perhaps fatally so.
If his words proved true...
Hisname... whatdidhesayitwas?... 'Áran'in'...?
She felt she'd heard that name before, but she couldn't recall for the life of her where. She mulled it over for a few minutes before groaning in frustration, throwing the sheets off her body and climbing roughly out of the bed. Her hooves thudded sharply against the wooden floor; she didn't even bother to brush the purple strands of her mane from her eyes before she called out for her assistant.
"Spike, we have a problem."
She heard him snort in response, shortly before a mass of blankets stirred on the other end of the room. He mumbled incoherently as he dug his head out of the covers, his eyes peeling open obediently; the dragon raised a claw to his mouth and stifled a yawn, betraying his fatigue as he squinted in the morning sunlight. The golden rays glinted off his lavender scales like they were gemstones, shimmering brilliantly in the pristine light as though his skin was crafted from shards of amethyst.
"Wha... Twilight? What's wrong?"
"I don't know, Spike. But something tells me that, soon, we'll be wishing it'd stayed that way."
A short time later, the two were in the main room of the library, scouring the wealth of knowledge hidden away within the bookshelves for leads. Several books were already piled atop Twilight's desk, slowly starting to reach above her head as she hastily recorded something on a fresh roll of parchment. The quill made rapid, yet gentle strokes as it floated above the paper, ensconced in an iridescent cloud of purple through which the tip just barely connected with the sheet.
She was writing as quickly as she could whilst still remaining legible, trying to put everything down on paper before she had the chance to forget. Luckily, the voice remained fresh in her mind, and before too long, she had transcribed the whole message from start to finish in her well-practiced calligraphy that only years of scribe-work could bring.
She placed the quill in the inkwell, letting the rippling pool of black ink settle, and brought the parchment closer. Her brow was scrunched in concentration as she scrutinized the lines scrawled out across the page. She had so many questions; about the vision, about the warning, about what she should do next; but there was one question which she couldn't have ignored, even if she tried.
Who, exactly, wasÁran'in?
She sighed and buried her head between her hooves, letting the parchment fall lightly back onto the table. Spike, meanwhile, was skimming through another book; he mumbled to himself inaudibly as he flipped through the pages, fishing through the text for answers, to no avail. He shook his head, shutting the book and looking to the unicorn dejectedly.
"Nothing, Twi'... I can't find a... a single reference to anyone named 'Áran'in...'"
He traipsed over to the desk and placed the book atop the table. He rested his elbows and clasped one hand over another, gingerly tapping his claws against the wooden surface as he fought the urge to fall back asleep.
Twilight looked at the dragon remorsefully. He was little more than a child. He was still shorter than most ponies, and at the moment, he was barely even able to breathe fire. She'd been present when he was born, and in fact, it was her who'd hatched Spike's egg. She often thought of the tiny drake as a younger sibling of sorts; strangers might find the relationship odd, but those who knew the pair well enough knew better than to question the bond they shared.
She hated to drag him out of bed so early; the sun had just barely started to peek over the horizon not ten minutes ago; but they had a job to do. She constantly had to remind herself that the needs of Equestria came before her's, or even Spike's, and as the protege of the land's sovereign, Princess Celestia herself, it was her responsibility to aid in the defense of the realm in any way she could. If there was a threat, as she strongly suspected there was, they couldn't afford to rest until they were sure that the danger had passed.
She raised one of the books arbitrarily and began to read. Her voice took on a tone of urgency. "Just keep looking, Spike. There just has to be something, I know there i-." She fell silent. "... Spike, where'd you find this?"
"Uhh... whu... what? Oh, um, it was in... Equestrian History... why...?"
She prodded his side. She could practically see the electricity shooting up his spine as he jolted upright. "This passage here. It mentions that ancient pony civilizations, the ones from before the Hearthswarming Migration, may have worshiped a deity known by the title 'Lord of Souls.' Spike, look in the Ancient Mythology section. Something tells me you'll find something interesting."
"Mythology? But, that's-" he yawned. "-... but, those are just... well, myths."
"So was Nightmare Moon," she replied, her voice grim.
The answer, and the name, seemed to terrify him. He pushed himself off the desk and jogged towards another wing of the library, grabbing a ladder laying against the wall as he passed. He leaned the ladder against one of the bookcases and deftly climbed the rungs to the top.
"Áran'in... his warning... the white hand... what does it all mean?" she asked herself. Spike shrugged from atop the ladder. "And that last thing he said... 'This world has forgotten me... but I've not forgotten you'? … who? Who have we forgotten?"
Spike was trying to listen, but he was focusing on the colorful collection of spines arranged within the hollow of the bookcase. He briefly scanned the titles before settling on one, reaching forward and slipping an old, dusty tome out into the light.
Twilight telekinetically swiped the book out of his hand and brought it across the room, opening it in the same motion. She started to read.
"Spike, take a letter, please... to the Princess."
Something was wrong.
Rainbow Dash shot up in bed. Her eyes were wide and filled with alarm as they jumped back and forth around the room, her pupils dilating to catch the sparing light of the dawn as it trickled in through the window. She could tell that it was early, much earlier than she ever would have woken up of her own accord, but right then, the pegasi's usually languid demeanor seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The sunlight was just beginning to slip into the house, illuminating the inside of her home in a layer of gold as the shadows of twilight were just starting to recede. The room was surprisingly dull; the only hint of color was the Wonderbolt-themed bedspread adorning her mattress. The rest of the room never deviated from a mundane pallet of grey, white, and dark blue, something she'd done to be reminiscent of the architectural style of her ancestors.
Her sleek, sky-blue coat glistened in the sunshine like an azure waterfall streaming down her skin. She had nothing short of a rainbow flowing down over her face, every individual strand of hair coming alight as the iridescent rays danced delicately along her mane. She looked like a rainbow arcing across a cloudless sky given mortal form.
Rainbow's chest rose and fell smoothly in time with her breathing. She listened for any sound, for any sign of a disturbance, but she was alone. Normally, she would have fallen right back asleep.
Today was different.
She was almost certain what the problem was, but she had to be sure. She stretched her wings out experimentally, exposing them to the cool morning air as she worked the stiffness from her muscles. The air was like icy water trickling down her skin, sending shivers along her spine and chilling her down to the core. She was right.
It was too cold.
EitherCloudsdalechangedtheseasonsearly... orIsleptinforsixmonths.
She gave a self-deprecating smirk, and sprung into action. She slipped out from the sheets and was on her hooves in the blink of an eye, racing out of the room in a rhythmic flurry of hoofbeats as her mane blew loosely in the wind behind her. She turned, racing down the hall towards a staircase that she didn't bother to use; she leaped to the floor, landing deftly at the base of the stairs with a graceful flap of her wings. Another sharp turn led to the main room of the house; she didn't have time for her normal morning routine, taking only the time to slip on a pair of plain flight goggles hanging from a rack near the sofa before she bolted out the door.
She rushed to stand at the end of the clouds, stopping just before the cottony platform vanished beneath her hooves. The realm of Equestria stretched out below her, giving her an especially grand view of Ponyville in the distance. She watched as the light poured into the village below, the sun peeking over the hills, the clouds rolling like waves across the horizon; the royal city of Canterlot was a glowing silhouette built into the side of a mountain, the majestic spires both graceful and imposing, even from many miles away.
The wind sent her already disheveled mane flailing about in the air behind her. It caught the sun's rays like a fishnet made of silver; in the dawn's light, the loose, vibrant strands were as brilliant as an actual rainbow gracing the sky. She stared at the ground in silence, her eyes wide in shock.
"Sweet Celestia..." she swore under her breath. She blinked and regained her composure, the stunned expression disappearing from her face to make way for a fierce scowl of determination. She slipped the goggles onto her head and pulled them down over her eyes.
Once she was ready, she coiled her legs, and, with a powerful downward thrust from her wings, she sprung off from the cloud and launched herself into the air. She spread her wings like an eagle, raising them above her head and bringing them swiftly back down against her side; her wing beats fell into a steady rhythm, upping her velocity until she was just a cyan blur against the sky, with a trail of rainbow-colored light following in her wake.
For the first time in her life, flying did nothing to quell the dread rising in her heart.
On occasion, Fluttershy chose to sleep downstairs. There was a perfectly comfortable mattress for her in the bedroom a mere staircase away, just waiting for her to climb in and bury herself under the covers, but she opted instead to make herself as relaxed as she could on a tiny couch pushed into the corner of her living room. With an old, faded quilt and the cushions as pillows, she settled in for the night on a scratchy surface barely even wide enough to hold her; nonetheless, she was always able to find sleep much more easily down here than she ever could in her own room.
The reason for this was simple; sometimes, it just made her more comfortable to be closer to her animals. Various kinds of fauna were spread about every corner of the house, most sporting various kinds of injuries ranging from serious fractures and gashes to insignificant scrapes and bruises. It looked very much like the wing of a hospital, and in many ways, this was exactly what it was; when animals were hurt, she cared for them. It was what she did, and what she was best at.
When night fell, they made her feel secure, safer, somehow. Their very presence was like another blanket draped across her back, and she could sleep soundly knowing that, if something happened, she'd be right there to help in any way she could. She was like a foal with stuffed animals, but these were the real thing.
The canary pegasus lived in a quaint little cottage just on the edge of Ponyville, the Everfree Forest not a stone's throw from her front door. Hers was a relatively secluded place, far removed from the commotion of the town proper and immersed instead in the pristine milieu of nature. Honestly, she preferred it this way; true to her name, she was incredibly shy around most, and the tranquility of the countryside guaranteed that she wouldn't be disturbed often.
Today was different.
The sound of glass shattering against the floor stirred Fluttershy from sleep. She opened her eyes, only to be met by the sight of her cottage in chaos. In spite of the early hour, all of the animals in the house seemed to be wide awake, and were busy reducing her normally peaceful abode into a loud, disordered mess of havoc and turmoil. Birds were out of their cages, squawking incessantly as they careened through the air. Gerbils, mice, and all other small rodents were loose from their pens and scurrying frantically around on the floor, their high-pitched squeaking like splinters in Fluttershy's ears. Monkeys screeched as they jumped around the room, swinging wildly on the furniture as if they were trees in a forest. It was like a hurricane of wildlife was tearing through her house, a twister of flesh and feathers and fur leaving a trail of devastation behind it.
She gasped in surprise, climbing out from the blanket and taking in the scene with a look of horror on her face. She ducked just in time to avoid being struck by a pot, cringing as she heard it smash somewhere behind her, and immediately set out trying to restore order to her little cottage. She wasn't worried so much about her belongings; she was more afraid that someone might get hurt than anything else.
"Oh my goodness! Wait, no, stop! Everyone, please, calm down!"
Her protests fell on deaf ears as they continued their feral rampage unabated. Fluttershy was genuinely scared. It was like they were possessed - no matter how much she pleaded, it was like she didn't even exist.
This wasn't right. Usually, she was able to get through to almost any kind of animal effortlessly, but now they were treating her like she was air. She'd never seen anything like it. Nothing she did garnered any sort of response, and it was making her feel completely powerless. She was so terrified, it seemed she wouldn't even be able to rely on The Stare to help her. What could be driving them to act this way?
Fluttershy's eyes darted around the cottage before they settled on the one shape that wasn't moving. Angel Bunny stood coolly atop the kitchen table, chewing lazily on a carrot stick with a half-lidded stare of boredom on his face. Of all the animals there, he was the only one who seemed able to control himself - without looking, he strafed right just in time to avoid being struck in the back of the head with a half-empty bowl of fruit. He didn't even seem to notice the chaos unfolding around him. He was the eye of the storm.
Seeing this, she galloped towards the table, her lush, pink mane billowing loosely in her wake, hastily navigating the anarchy between her and the kitchen as though she were in a warzone. Angel just sat there as the Pegasus slid to a stop on the sleek tile floor, raising her voice feebly to make herself heard over the commotion.
"Angel! What's going on? Why's-" she dodged a lamp "-everyone acting like this?"
Angel swallowed. The hare gently placed the carrot onto the table and gestured behind her with his paw. She turned, following his arm to an old-fashioned thermometer mounted on the wall. It was a simple design, plain and functional, but it served its purpose well enough. It'd hung there since she could remember, but until then, she'd seldom paid it any mind. At first glance, everything seemed to be normal.
Then, she noticed something odd; she stared for a moment, before cantering towards the instrument uncertainly. Her imagination must have been playing tricks on her. She stopped just short of the wall. Now she saw the readings more clearly, and her fears were confirmed. The red line stopped halfway between zero and twenty.
That couldn't be right. This would have been the lowest regional temperature on record, and the first day of Summer was in less than a week. Though she had to admit, now that her attention was undivided, there did seem to be an uncharacteristic chill in the air...
She turned to the hare, who had plucked his carrot back up from the table and resumed eating. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Is this...?" She ventured. Angel nodded, wrapping himself with his free arm and shivering exaggeratedly.
She looked again at the animals going ballistic all around her. There was no way a bit of cold could incite this kind of madness from her friends.
"... what's the real reason?" She looked at the hare, who looked mournfully back at her. "Angel...?"
He closed his eyes and dipped his head, and gave no response.
This was answer enough for Fluttershy. In that instant, she became an entirely different person; her animals were like family to her, and she was determined to do whatever it took to protect them. Without another word, she bolted for the door, throwing it open with her mouth, and prepared to step outside.
She paused.
"... maybe I should bring a scarf..."
Pinkie Pie's mornings always started the same way; with a hangover that made her feel like an Ogre was having a boxing match with the inside of her skull.
Her head pounded like a drum as her stomach tried to empty itself of last night's fill of cake, cupcakes, cookies, punch, sarsaparilla, and other confectionaries. The sunlight was like a fork being plunged into her eye, scrambling her brain like they were beating an egg; any sound was amplified tenfold to her tender ears. The previous night of drinking, dancing, and partying never failed to take a vicious toll on the pink mare, rendering her completely miserable throughout the morning as her body struggled to recuperate with her late bout of hedonistic binging.
Today was different.
Her head was clear as she opened her eyes, steadily taking in the morning sunlight without even flinching. She didn't feel like she was going to vomit any time soon, and everything seemed quiet, even peaceful. She felt... strangely normal.
She frowned, and looked suspiciously around her bedroom. It was decently sized, with empty punch bowls, streamers, flaccid balloons, and toppled furniture strewn all about. The only light was from her open window, the sun's auric glow pouring in like golden waterfalls spilling across the floor. The story below her was Sugarcube Corner, the finest confectioner in all of Ponyville, and her place of work. It was her dream job, and living right above the store ensured she couldn't possibly be late, even with the time it took for the ritualistic migraine to pass.
She climbed out of bed, trotting lightly to the middle of the room on hooves which were much more stable than they should have been. She looked uncertain, skeptical, of something, likely of the fact that she wasn't in immeasurable pain right this moment.
Then, it happened. Before she could blink, she was off the ground, floating above the floorboards and spasming uncontrollably in midair. She inflated, deflated, twisted and contorted, making all sorts of noises as the nonsensical outburst took its course. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and she fell back to the floor without a single sound. The silence which followed was unnerving, eerie even.
She stared into space for a moment. She mumbled to herself quietly;
"... now that... was a doozy."
The Pinkie Sense was never wrong.
Applejack was no stranger to waking early. She was an apple farmer; her family had risen with the sun every morning since there had been apples to grow. From the dawn, she and her family slaved throughout the day to get their chores done, obsequious in their devotion to earning their place in the world the honest, Apple family way: through their sweat and tears. It was a part of them, defined who they were, and though the miles divided them, they were united in purpose as well as in blood.
So, this morning, as she prepared herself for another grueling day of fieldwork under the harsh rays of Celestia's sun, she couldn't help but notice that certain things were amiss. The rooster; the most reliable, dependable bird who could always be counted on to give a great caw every morning as the sun rose; was silent. The crisp aroma of apples and leaves, a scent which normally perforated Sweet Apple Acres like fire engulfing a tree, was gone. And, most notably of all, the air felt cold, much colder than it should have been at this time of year.
Applejack felt uneasy as she threw off the blanket and trudged out of bed. Her room was spartanly decorated; it was functional, with little embellishment, much like her. She stepped up to her mirror, hurriedly gathering her golden hair into a ponytail and securing it with an old, red scrunchy. She stared into the mirror; her soft, emerald eyes stared uncertainly back.
She turned to leave the room, slipping on an old Stetson hanging from the wall as she passed. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, passing her siblings' rooms and climbing down the staircase to the kitchen. There, she saw her family; her massive brother Big Macintosh, little sister Applebloom and elderly Granny Smith; gathered around the window, staring outside with varying degrees of dumbstruck wonder on their faces. Their uneaten breakfast lay forgotten on their plates, slowly going cold as the morning air sucked the heat away.
"Um... good mornin'?" Applejack called. "What're y'all doin' over by th'window?"
Big Macintosh leaned back without pulling his eyes from the window. His thick, heavy drawl floated to her from across the room. "Uhh... Applejack... yah might wanna' see this."
Applejack rolled her eyes and made her way to their side of the kitchen. She peered over her brother's shoulder, wanting to know what was so incredibly interesting, but she wasn't prepared for what she saw. Most summer mornings, Sweet Apple Acres would have been vibrant, the trees lush and green, the apples full and red and nearly ripe for bucking.
Today was different.
She recoiled from the window, her eyes wide in shock. "What in tarnation..."
Of all the ponies in town, Rarity must have appreciated the importance of sleep the most of all. Fatigue was a severe detriment to one's appearance, as everypony knew. To neglect rest, in her mind, was an unspeakable violation of her standards, and on most days, she never would have allowed herself to fall victim to such a travesty.
And yet, last night, she hadn't slept a single wink. She couldn't afford to; not with this deadline looming overhead. It was gravely important that she finish this shipment, and if she missed her quota, she dared not think what might happen. Her looks were important, of course, but work always came before superficial matters. Especially at this time of year, now that the Grand Galloping Gala; the largest gathering of influential ponies in the realm; was just around the corner.
The snow-white unicorn narrowed her eyes in concentration, her horn alight with a magical gleam as she simultaneously levitated a measuring tape and a pair of scissors above her. She brought the tape down across the fabric and cut a smooth, delicate path from end to end along the tape's edge. The outcome was perfect, as it always was; for a dress of her design, she wouldn't settle for anything less.
It had been a long night of slaving over designs, but at long last, it was nearly finished. She placed the tape and scissors gently down onto a nearby table, plucking the strip of cloth from the ground and scrutinizing it with a well-trained eye.
She was in her own world now. She pictured the dress she was soon to craft, seeming clear as day in her mind as she worked to give it form. She looked to her mannequin, imagining the way the dress would complement the wearer's curves like an architect surveying the grounds of a brand new castle, envisioning how grand the structure would be as it reached gloriously up into the heavens. And, as she envisioned her own delicate ensemble, in her mind, it seemed no less as grand.
Time was short. She placed the patch on the model, beginning her work with a graceful, yet fervent eloquence as she started to bring her creation into the world. Another patch here, a few stitches there, some dye on this patch, some ribbon on that. All of it fell together perfectly, as if the materials had been designed with this very purpose in mind.
As she worked at her craft, the dress came together like an elaborate puzzle of silk and textiles and embroidery, growing more and more intricate, and beautiful, with every move she made. To her, it was more than just a dress; she was giving a piece of her soul in its concception, imbuing within the glistening threads a life of its own, until the entire dress glowed with the fire of her spirit.
"Rarity!" The sweet, yet gratingly high voice flowed ringingly down the staircase.
Rarity dropped the glass bowl she'd been holding; she cringed as she heard the bowl shatter and watched the pins scatter madly around on the floor. Her eye twitched. How many times had she told Sweetie Belle not to interrupt her while she was working? She grit her teeth, but feigned a pleasant tone regardless.
"Yes, Sweetie Belle? What is it?" She bent her forelegs, meticulously plucking the pins from the carpet and gathering them in a spare bowl she'd had nearby. Her little sister's reply sounded unsure.
"There's... uhh... something... wrong... outside.. I really think you should see this!"
Rarity felt her temper rising, but she caught herself. "Not now, Sweetie Belle, dear! I'm under the horn here! I don't have time for your games right now!"
She could practically feel Sweetie rolling her eyes. "Would you just come up and have a look? This is serious!"
Rarity felt an impulse to point out that they spoke two completely different languages when it came to 'serious', but she held her tongue. She sighed, exasperated. Apparently, she was never going to finish her quota. "Fine. I'll be up in a minute!"
Sometimes, she wondered what she was going to do with Sweetie Belle. True to her name, she was the sweetest sister any mare could ever hope for, but there were times where she needed to focus on her work, and she wasn't able to handle her distractions. This was one such time where she wished being an older sister could have been just a little less stressful..
Rarity climbed the staircase elegantly. Sweetie Belle met her at the top, a stunned look on her face. Rarity looked at her expectantly. "What is it?"
Sweetie Belle said nothing, and gestured to the window at the other end of the room.
This time, it was Rarity's turn to roll her eyes, but she relented and played along, hoping this would allow her to return to her dresses sooner. She sauntered over to the window, swinging it open and poking her head outside. She felt herself die a little inside as the wind sent her perfectly styled mane was sent into disarray, but the feeling vanished soon, to be replaced by one of shock as she took in the scene below her.
On most summer days, Ponyville basked in the ocean of the sun's warmth, like a flower blossoming into a peaceful, flourishing haven of life and beauty. The air should have been clear and gentle and filled with birds' song, and a gentle zephyr should have blown through town like the life-giving breath of Celestia herself.
Today was different.
Rarity groaned in her mind.Not now, she thought. Oh, please, Celestia, don't let this be happening now. If there was one thing what she saw meant, it was that the world was broken. And if the world was broken, of course, she and her friends were going to be expected to fix it.
She pulled her head back inside. Apparently, this dress was going to have to wait.
"... your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle."
Spike finished the note with a satisfying tap of his quill. The air of finality was as firm and concrete as a cover laid upon a coffin.
Twilight nodded. Spike rolled the scroll into a cylinder, holding it pinched between his thumb and his index claw in front of him. He inhaled deeply, and with his next breath, he exhaled a bright plume of smokeless, green fire onto the paper. It swirled around as if driven by the wind, the flames roaring lightly as they engulfed the parchment in gentle emerald tongues, and when they vanished, the parchment was gone. Twilight turned her head just in time to watch the twinkling trail of smoke hover wistfully out the open window, and disappear far off into the distance.
"Twilight, are you sure about this? What if it turns out t'be nothing?" Spike's voice was laden with concern.
"It's not nothing, Spike. I know it isn't." She sat down on the floor of the library. "... it never is." She recalled all the times she'd read about dreams and premonitions meaning the difference in the rise and fall of empires. How many famines had been averted because of dreams had in the middle of the night? How many proud kingdoms were preserved because of the guidance the Gods granted their rulers in their sleep? She knew the weight that dreams could have, and she wasn't going to ignore this one.
She supported her chin in her hooves, a thoughtful look in her eye. "I was given a warning last night. I was visited in my dreams, by this Lord of Souls, and he spoke to me, and he showed me things that felt more real than any dream could ever be. I don't know who he is or what he wants with us, or even if he's telling the truth, but in any case, we'd be fools not to listen." She felt something in her hair, and looked up in surprise. Spike was standing by her side, gently running his claws through Twilight's perse mane like running his hand through a cool, lavender stream.
Twilight wrapped her hooves around the little dragon and held him tight, firmly locking him into a sibling's embrace. He returned the gesture without hesitation.
This heartwarming moment was interrupted when Twilight started to shiver. It had been a cold morning - too cold, she thought - but the temperature had only plummeted since then. To her, It no longer felt like Summer at all.
Spike chuckled. "I'll just close the window, then..." He released the unicorn and made his way to the window. He placed a hand on the unlatched glass swinging lazily about on its hinges, but paused when he took a look outside. There were a few tense moments of silence, until he turned back to her, his mouth partly open in shock.
"... Twilight... I think your friend's warning may've come true..."
Twilight didn't need to hear any more. She sprung up onto her hooves, rushing to the door of the library without another word. The door burst open in a flash of purple light, and she stepped outside. She was rendered speechless by what she saw.
"I must be seeing things..." Twilight murmured, stepping out from the awnings of her home and into the middle of the street. Above her, thousands of tiny snowflakes descended from the clouds. They settled lightly on the ground, covering the entire town in a delicate crust of fine, powdery white. Already, the whole of Ponyville was buried under a massive pile of snow, a blanket as cold and deadly as a frozen Tartarus. Several ponies were out of their homes, staring at the spectacle in comparable stages of disbelief and wonder.
Spike came running out of the library to join her. They stood close together, staring up into the snow-filled sky as one.
"Spike... what day is it?"
"Uhh... It's June Fifteenth, Twi'."
"June Fifteenth... Summer should be just around the corner..." her voice drifted off. The frozen snow gleamed with the light of the sun as they fell. She followed one of the scores of snowflakes, her eyes moving with it as it lowered through the air, landing, soft as a feather, atop its kin. The fragile beauty almost made her forget that this wasn't supposed to be happening - not now.
Another gleam filled the corner of her eye, this one as familiar to her as the back of her hoof. She looked up. "Rainbow!" She called.
Like a bolt of chromatic lightning, she shot rapidly through the air, sending snow flying as she came to a screeching halt right above her with a powerful flap of her wings. She hovered in place, her wings flapping like a hummingbird's as she shook the snow from her mane. She addressed her in turn.
"Twi', we've got a problem," she started, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm sure I don't gotta tell you that the weather's... weird." A snowflake landed on her nose, and she blew it away absentmindedly.
Twilight nodded. "So I've noticed. What, have the Weatherponies been drinking their own rainbow juice?" She smirked, but Rainbow didn't return it, and it faded just as quickly as it appeared. If Dash of all ponies was being serious, then she knew something was gravely wrong.
Just then, she felt a gentle breeze pick up, setting the snowflakes drifting lightly in one direction. She cleared her throat, and continued; "Well, this shouldn't be too much of a problem for you. I've seen you clear an entire sky of clouds in a matter of seconds. And It's still early, we could clean up this whole mess in no time if we started now."
"Yeah, well, that's the thing," Rainbow 's reply came. "I tried, Twi'. I swear I did. I even got the rest of my team, and, even with all of us together, nothing we do works." Her voice dripped with defeat, and she bowed her head in shame. "It's like... It's like this storm's alive, or something. Like it... like it doesn't wanna leave."
Twilight frowned. She felt the wind grow stronger, more forceful, sending both her and Rainbow's manes whipping wildly around her head. It made the air feel colder, like the storm had sunk its fangs into her and started to seep the warmth from her bones. She shifted on her hooves uncomfortably, staring silently at the ground, deep in thought.
Spike, who'd been silent during their exchange, spoke up, having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. "What's wrong, Rainbow Dash? Do you know why this is happening?"
"Not a clue," she shrugged. "That's... actually why I'm here. I'd hoped Twilight'd be able to help..." She looked to her friend imploringly. Twilight, however, was lost in her own little world. The other two watched her for a few moments. Spike just barely heard as she whispered to herself; "... we will be paid a visit..."
She looked at Rainbow with a fire in her eyes that surprised both of them. "I think I have some idea... I'm not certain, but if I'm right, then I don't think this is just any Summer snowstorm we're dealing with."
With a mighty roar, the storm grew even stronger. The snow was now driven wildly around their heads, the beginnings of a blinding haze starting to appear as what was once a gentle flurry turned into a small, but ferocious, blizzard. The change was sudden, and it set Twilight's head spinning. She covered her face with one hoof, and shouted to Rainbow; she had trouble even hearing herself over the force of the gale. "Rainbow, quick, gather your team and order them to tell everypony to come to my library!" Rainbow was about to interject, but Twilight cut her off. "Please, Rainbow, just do it! I have a plan!"
For a second, Rainbow floated uncertainly. Then she saluted, and dutifully zipped off into the blizzard, disappearing as her trail was consumed by a rapidly thickening fog.
Twilight nudged Spike back into the library, following shortly afterward and shutting the door loudly behind her. She welcomed the warmth of her home as Spike turned to face her.
"Twilight, what're you doing? Why're you asking for everypony to come here? I doubt this place is even big enough to hold that many ponies!"
"Did you see how strong the storm was?" She countered. "And at this rate, it's just going to get stronger. It's not safe out there, Spike, and if this keeps up, I'm betting that all the houses in town'll be buried by day's end. In here, though, I can protect them; my magic will keep us safe."
He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. He settled instead for groaning in frustration as he walked to the far end of the library, slumping down into a corner and burying his face in the crook of his arms.
Before long the townsfolk started to arrive. There were only a few at first, but before long, the refugees from the storm started flooding in like water through an open dam. Families came with their foals, young couples, individuals; vendors and artists and craftsponies and farmers, unicorn and pegasus and earth pony alike. The familiar faces surrounded her, comforting her. She'd been living in this town for almost two years now, and in a place this small, it would have been hard for her not to have come to know almost all of her neighbors. She was proud to say that, despite the massive sea of faces now filling her home, she knew the name of every single one.
The differences went beyond just their faces. Their cutie marks; special markings upon a pony's flank which determined that pony's talents, what made them unique; were as erratic and wildly varied as one could expect them to be. On one pony, Lyra, she saw the instrument which she was named for. On several others she saw an hourglass, on another there was a bundle of fruit, and on yet another she saw a sextuplet of bubbles. Each had a different meaning, and each was what specified that individual's place in the world.
She looked back at her own mark; a large, pink star surrounded by five small, white stars. Young foals earned their cutie marks when they discovered what made them special; her's had been with her since the day Spike was hatched. Most unicorns were limited in their magical abilities to only that which was related in some way to their special talent, but in Twilight's case, magic [i]was[/i] her talent. For her, the possibilities were endless, and, after she'd been taken on as Princess Celestia's personal protege, it hadn't been long before she was one of the most powerful magicians in all of Equestria.
As her eyes sifted through the crowd, she noticed one mark which stood out to her in particular; a trio of apples on an orange background. "Applejack!" She called over the din of excited voices.
The orange mare turned at the sound. She saw her, and she greeted her friend, her distinctive Savanneigh drawl accentuating every word she said; "Twi', am ah happy to see you! Ah looked out the window this mornin', and, by Celestia's mane, ah saw Sweet Apple Acres covered haunches-high in snow! Snow! Near the start'a Summer! Rainbow came by about then, and says ah gotta bring mah family to the library as soon's ah can. Y'mind tellin' me what's going on?"
Twilight waited patiently for her to finish, and gave her reply. "Yes, I asked her to bring you here. The weather's been acting strange lately, as I'm sure you've noticed, and nothing Rainbow does seems to work. As for why, I don't know, but I have a theory I'd like to share with you as soon as everypony's present and accounted for. In the meantime, the blizzard's getting stronger, and I don't think Ponyville's safe."
A thought occurred to her. "Speaking of that, we need to talk. Can you gather up the Elements and meet me in the upper part of the library?"
Applejack nodded. "Will do, Twi'." Then, she turned and vanished into the mass of bodies filling the room.
Twilight made her way to the staircase and climbed up to her bedroom. It felt wonderful to be free from the crowd down below - she was starting to feel claustrophobic. She settled herself in on her mattress and waited for them to join her, and before too long, each of her closest friends came bounding, flying, and creeping up the staircase one by one. Five ponies joined her in total; Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie. They greeted each other briefly, and took spots wherever they liked at Twilight's behest.
The Elements of Harmony were the most powerful form of magic known to Ponykind, said to be the purest incarnation of the magic of friendship in all of existence. The Elements held their own physical forms, yet their spirits were embodied through six avatars representing the qualities of Kindness, Loyalty, Generosity, Laughter, Honesty, and finally, Magic. Twilight was blessed with Magic; the rest fell to the five mares now in her company. Loyalty was Rainbow Dash, while Honesty was Applejack. Generosity was Rarity's Element, and Kindness was Fluttershy's, whereas the Element of Laughter belonged to none other than Pinkie Pie. Together, they were utterly unmatched; there wasn't an enemy Equestria had faced yet that could stand up to the might of the Elements, and they were all certain that there never would be.
All except Twilight.
Once they were convened, Twilight began to speak. "Rainbow Dash, is everypony in the library?"
Rainbow Dash nodded. With this, Twilight climbed off the bed, rose to her full height, and closed her eyes in concentration. Her horn started to glow; she bit her lip, a bead of sweat rolling slowly down the side of her face. Everypony felt the air warm considerably, and the bitter wind seemed to die down. Then, the glow disappeared, and Twilight relaxed, panting heavily as she fell back down onto the bed.
A few moments passed. Rainbow spoke up. "Twilight, what was that?"
"I'm glad you asked," she replied through labored breaths. "You see, after my brother's wedding, I decided to develop a rudimentary civilian adaptation of the ward he conjured to protect Canterlot. It'll protect us from the storm for as long as it holds. Hopefully, it'll give us enough time to find a solution."
The ponies gathered peeked out the glass doorway to the balcony, and sure enough, the entire library was encompassed by a giant orb of transparent magenta light. Outside, they saw the snowstorm was stronger than ever; they heard it roar as it dumped ton after ton of snow onto the town, trying, and failing, to breach Twilight's shield as it did. It was like watching a ravenous beast from behind the bars of a cage, but the cage was theirs, and they sat, cowering, just beyond the predator's reach.
Twilight called for them to listen; they all quietly returned to their seats, and once she had their attention, she began to explain the situation in its entirety.
"It all started last night, when I was asleep. I had a dream. No normal dream, of course; I believe it was a premonition of some kind, or at the very least of some sort of supernatural origin. I saw two creatures of a race I'd never seen before dueling on a mountaintop. It was like the world was ending; the sky was dark and filled with clouds, there was a snowstorm that makes this one like like a vacation to Stalliongrad. At one point, I heard them talking. I couldn't understand most of it, but I was able to catch a little something something along the lines of the world lying dead at their feet.
"Anyhow, eventually, one of them lost, but everything faded away before the other had a chance to do anything else. Then, he started to talk. To me. He called himself 'Áran'in, Lord of Souls,'; I did a search on the name earlier today, and his eponym appeared in a book stating that a deity so titled was worshipped by pony societies from before the Hearthswarming Migration. Whoever he is, he warned me about a 'visit' we'd be given by someone close to him, perhaps another member of his pantheon; a visit I strongly suspect is somehow linked to the snowstorm happening right now, right outside our doors. He told me that he was the only one that could stop it, that even the Princesses didn't have the power to protect us. The only problem is, he said that he was..." Twilight paused as she tried to remember the exact wording, "'shackled with chains of stone... cursed to be a prisoner within his own body... until the sun itself faded away.'... whatever that means. And he says that only the Elements can free him.
"I don't know what exactly's going on, but I'll bet my horn it's related to the dream I had. I sent the Princess a letter earlier today, telling her everything. Now, I'm just waiting for her response..."
She was cut off by the sun appearing on the floor below. The crowd gasped and tried to get away, awed and terrified as a spiraling sphere of flaming white light manifested in the center of the room. It floated high above the ponies' heads, deafening to hear and blinding to look at, burning with an ethereal light like that of the stars. The snaking tendrils of flame licked hungrily at the air like waves from a sea of fire, coasting fluidly along the orange surface and veiling the center of the sphere from view. The room's temperature climbed to normal Summer highs in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and in that moment, the blizzard raging just outside the walls of the library was completely forgotten.
The light was intense, and the colors solid as stone; yet, though they couldn't see, there wasn't a single pony there who didn't know what, or rather, who, was waiting in the star's core. They could practically see her silhouette now.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fiery ball vanished, leaving not a trace of smoke behind as the heavenly light left their view. The roaring warmth vanished along with the flames, and the icy chill of Winter returned to fill the void, though lessened. Then, there was only silence. Twilight uncovered her eyes and rose to her hooves, moving to stand with her friends at the balustrade overlooking the ground floor, gazing into the center of the room with an expectant spark in her eye.
Sure as could be, there she was; Princess Celestia, ruler of the realm of Equestria. She was a pony, without a doubt, but with her elegance and her boundless grace, the likeness of an eagle or a swan came more readily to mind. She stood twice the height of any other pony, and as an Alicorn, sported both a majestic pair of wings, beating powerfully to keep her aflutter, and an exquisite horn, much longer than any mortal unicorn's, so beautiful and sublime it may have been carved out of marble. Her gossamer mane was alight with the beauty of the dawn, glimmering radiantly in all the colors of the sky as it was blown gently about by a nonexistant breeze. A giant ruby encrusted pendant hung from her neck, and the image of the sun was emblazoned on her flank. All the wisdom of a hundred centuries sat in her eyes, eyes which now gazed down at her subjects with both a soft, matronly love, and a firm, commanding authority.
"Wow. Flashy entrance," someone whispered behind them.
The Elements whipped around. Standing behind them was Princess Luna, Warden of the Night. She was so much like and unlike her older sister, the comparison was almost dizzying. She was shorter than Celestia, though still taller than most of her subjects, and whereas Celestia's coat was a pure, untainted white, Luna's was a deep, soothing azure, the color of the night. Her mane had the same floating quality to it, streaming lazily about her heads though the air was still, but rather than the day, the night itself seemed to flow out from her crown. The stars twinkled spectacularly as the sky rippled in her mane behind her, like an ephemeral curtain tailored from the fabric of the heavens. She, too, was an Alicorn, and shared a both wings and a horn of her own, and her cutie mark was nothing other than the crescent moon. She flashed the Elements a haughty grin.
"Miss me?" She said teasingly. She sauntered over to the railings and stood next to Twilight. All the Elements stared for a moment, then realized they were expected to bow. Luna chucked, and bid them to rise. She continued;
"Of course, It's not like We can blame her." Twilight noted her use of the 'royal We'. "With everything that's going on, everypony needs a strong figure to look to. To give them hope." She gazed approvingly at her sister, eyes flashing with the love and admiration of a younger sibling.
Celestia raised a hoof, and the crowd was instantly hushed. Now that everypony was quiet, Celestia began to speak. Her voice was gentle and melodious, much like she was;
"My subjects, have no fear. I, Princess Celestia, now stand at your side."
The crowd bowed, and Celestia bid them rise with another wave of her hoof.
"As I'm sure you're all aware, earlier today, this town and the surrounding countryside were beset by a terrible blizzard. Very soon, the Summer Solstice will be upon us, and yet, a vicious storm now buries your homes beneath layer after layer of snow. But, do not despair, for we stand ready to act; it will not be long now before the warmth of Summer returns to these lands. I, Celestia, your Princess, promise you - before the day of the Solstice has arrived, this accursed blizzard will have passed, and Summer will reign in its stead."
There was a explosion of cheering from the floor of the library. This time, she didn't bother to silence them; instead, she turned in midair and hovered towards the room where the Elements were gathered. Everypony stepped back to make room as she landed in the middle of Twilight's bedroom. She took a few easy steps towards the window, and sighed.
"Oh, thank the sun that's over with..."