The clock strikes half past five just as the mare finishes combing her mane. The great mirror in front of her shows a stunning young mare in a dark blue and white dress that fits her figure perfectly. Someponies would think it impossible to find a fit that good in the space of a few hours, but calling in a few old favours can do wonders. Perhaps it’s worth to attend this little party just to get an excuse to wear this beauty in public. If one invites a whore at Gala, one ought to anticipate that she will not go unnoticed by anypony. That is a lesson you will learn by the hard way, Professor Axiom. The mare turns her flank, and makes sure that her cutie mark is absolutely visible. The tailor almost lost his mind making a cut like that possible on such short notice, but he did it for her anyway.

There is not a single pony in that castle who wouldn’t know me by the time they see my cutie mark. I can see them sneering already in their noble glory, all the cream of Canterlot. It’s about time I reminded them of my presence. Let them know that I’m not afraid of them. The mare gives a final look to her whole appearance, trying to spot any flaws that might ruin her composition. But she is perfect, even in her own eyes.

The apartment she is in now is larger than the one where she spent the previous night, but she still finds it cramped. She likes to have space around her, at least when she is alone. The clock on the wall reminds her that she should be on her way, and even if it would be sweet to let Professor Axiom wait for her, that is not a way for a proper lady to behave. She leaves the mirror, and heads for the door, and beyond into the stairwell. The cool autumn air fills her lungs and mind, and its caress makes her smile.

The evening is on its way, but it’s still unusually bright. That is because, on this day, the sun and the moon cross the sky in unison like a pair of lovers with hoof against hoof. The sight is quite magnificent, to say the least. The mare stops walking just to wonder at the two orbs that balance each other’s power and color the sky a purplish-grey haze with countless tones and shades playing in between the two extremes. Scores of other ponies, commoners and nobles, have gathered on the streets to witness the divine play above them. With necks strained and eyes pointing upwards, they lower their voices as they talk under their gods. The mare looks at them, and suddenly realizes that she is one of them.The thought makes her hasten her steps as she heads for the Canterlot School of History and Linguistics.

The School is illuminated both by the mixed light above and by thousands of candles that have been sprinkled all over the mighty building. The arches shine with warm gold and icy silver as the candlelight wages a war with the celestial shining. The mare gazes at the wonder of it all, and almost trips on her own hooves as she walks past one of the vaults. She feels her heart pounding faster than it should be, since she wasn’t walking very fast. Am I… scared? Or merely excited? Of what? It’s just a building, filled with old professors and nerds. Nerds… The last word reminds the mare of something. She arrives at the School’s main entrance just when the clock above it hits five to six. A crowd of sorts is waiting there, with stallions smoking pipes and mares wearing lipstick. Seems like most of the School’s faculty is invited to the Gala.

No sign of any students, though. The notion calms the mare somewhat, although she still feels a tad tense. She steps through the open main doors, and enters into an entry hall of sorts, where a young earth pony stallion in a black tie smiles at her.

“Good evening. May I inquire your name?”

Immediately, a dozen fake names cross the mare’s mind, and for a moment she almost gives him one of them by instinct. Why bother, though? The point is to be recognized, yes? Might as well start right away. “Chillburn.” Her voice is like honey.
The stallion stares at her for a moment with a blank face. “Uhm… Chillburn, you said? I do not think you are invited to attend…”

Her eyes shine like a pair of coals as she looks the stallion straight into the eyes. “Do you have a list?” The honey has frozen, and all the bees have died.

The stallion quickly shuffles through a leaflet that rests on a podium on his right side, all the while keeping his eyes well away from hers. After a few seconds, he begins to cough awkwardly. “It would seem that you truly are on the list. I humbly apologize for the mishap. Please, do enter.”

“Thank you,” says Chillburn, and makes sure to flip her tail at the stallions face as she passes him.

The entry hall connects to an even wider space that is filled with well dressed ponies, most of them aged. The roof, arched like a bowl, stretches to what must be ten meters high at its centre and over twenty in diameter. The inside, too, is illuminated with countless candles, some of which float mid air. As she enters the hall, a few ponies glance at her and then return to their own circles, although a few of the younger stallions keep on staring at her from the cover of their drinks that float by their faces. It’s then that Chillburn realizes she is perhaps the only earth pony in the hall—at least the one who is not working at the moment. Indeed, some earth ponies, mostly stallions dressed in black ties, travel through the crowd, offering drinks and receiving empty glasses in return. One of them even comes to her, but she refuses the crystal glass.

“Is it a star that has blessed us with her presence?” says a familiar voice behind Chillburn. “Or was that last drink too much for my old soul?”

Chillburn turns slowly towards the voice, the smile on her lips as natural as a bee in honey. “Professor Axiom. You commit a foul crime, calling yourself old like that. Why, you are in the best shape of your life!”

“And no small thanks for that goes to you, my dear.” Axiom’s smile is drawn on his lips, but his voice is soft enough to be mistaken pleasant. “I do hope my sudden departure in the morning did not cause irreversible damage.”

What is he doing, talking like that in company like this? Does he really wish to lose his chair? From the corner of her eye, the mare can see a few interested ponies eyeing their talk. “Don’t you trouble yourself with that,” she says quickly. “How did you fare with Princess Celestia?”

“Well, I did end up being a bit late, but she was very understanding about it. She most often is.”

The eyes turn away slowly, and the mare sighs under her breath. But why do I feel so relieved? Why can’t I stop caring? “Did you discuss topics concerning the School?” she asks, not a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“A bit, yes, although most of our time was spent talking about my upcoming book, ‘The Short History of Canterlot’. The Princess was a most helpful and generous source of information for me.”

“How fascinating.”

“Isn't it? In any case, it seems that we ought to be on our way to the Castle now.”

Chillburn looks around her, and sees that most of the guests are moving towards the exit. “Does the whole faculty walk there together?” she asks.

“Indeed we do. It’s a tradition old as the School itself.” Axiom leaves his empty glass to a bypassing waiter, and nods towards the great doors where the crowd is flowing to. “Adventure awaits us, miss Chillburn. Will you seize the day?”

Her answer lingers on her lips half a second longer than it should. “More like I will seize the night, although it’s hard to tell the difference right now, don’t you think?” She starts to walk along the professor’s side, and the two become one with the crowd’s flow.

“A sharp mind, yours is,” says the stallion, and in his mind he adds: We’ll see how it cuts through the net that’s about to fall on it.

***

Syllable stands nervously at the back of the great hall, glancing at a small piece of paper hidden in the sleeve of his suit every now and then. It was Fall’s idea to take the most crucial parts of the “proper procedure’s list” with him, “just to make sure you’d know which rules you must definitely break”, as Fall had put it. The slightly sweating stallion reads for the tenth time the first line of the paper, which names the order to greeting the officers of the Royal Guard as they are introduced at the Castle. First the Captain, then the First Lieutenant, but only if the Leader of Inner Guard is not present, but not if he is wearing a blue uniform, and break the eye contact only when they have moved to greet the next guest… the army loves it’s rules, and the Royal Army is practically nothing but rules, it seems. It makes Syllable’s head spin to even guess at what their own ceremonies must look like.

The crowd in front of him has begun to stir, and Syllable guesses that it’s time to leave the School. As a colt he often watched the faculty make its New Year’s Walk, and wondered at the silent dignity and finesse of it all. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought to participate in the cavalcade one day. The same thought seems to have stuck on some others, too, he realizes as a couple elderly Professors turn their cold eyes away from him. It can’t be the suite’s fault, at least. It cost me half a month's rent to borrow this. He gulps quietly, and takes his place in the line that is forming in the hall, settling himself along with the younger teachers and teacher-candidates, all of whom surpass him by at least ten years. Still, he keeps his chin up as the line leaves the hall, and enters the day-night that reigns outside.

The sight above doesn’t fail to take his breath away, no matter how many times he sees it. The serene beauty of it eases his nervousness with the sheer force of reverence it inspires. The two celestial orbs have long ago reached their zenith, and are now closing in the western horizon in unison. But they still have some hours to show off their glory before the culmination of the event can take place and give birth to the Synthesis. It’s the final hour of the day, when the sun and moon interlace each other on the clear sky, as if embracing one another. It’s said that is the moment when everything is possible, when nothing is denied, when the future touches the past and creates the present. Or so they say.

Slowly but surely the cavalcade progresses, and soon the walls of the Canterlot Castle begin to loom ahead of them. Syllable sees as the little fillies and colts that have followed them from the shadows stop on the outer gates of the Castle’s premises, climbing atop each other to better see the funnily dressed folk. At least I hope they are laughing at all of us, and not just to me. But who could blame them? Anypony could see with a glimpse that I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t have come, I shouldn’t have come… Creeping panic finally grows strong enough to replace the feelings of respect stirred by the celestial show in the West. It makes his hooves feel heavy and clumsy as leaden bars, and the thought of tripping during the welcoming greetings makes him pale.

But it’s too late to turn back, he has already made it past the gates, and turning back now would shame him in the eyes of the whole School faculty. Some of them probably have bets for my flight, I’m sure of it. I won’t give them the satisfaction, I won't! The chestnut coated stallion takes a deep breath, and then blows the air out in such a force that the mare in front of him gives him the most chilling look he has ever experienced. He smiles sheepishly in response, and thanks his luck as the elderly mare has to turn to greet the Captain of the Royal Guard, who has come outside along with the leading officers to welcome all the guests. The mare courtesies to the tall unicorn stallion, and he responds with a nod and a few words.

And then his eyes turn to Syllable. For a fraction of a second he freezes under his stern gaze, but manages to make the few steps necessary to come in touch with the Captain. The two look each other in the eye, nod, and the Captain shifts his gaze onto the next pony in line while Syllable takes a few steps to meet the First Lieutenant. It’s only after he’s gone through all five of the highest ranking officers that he dares to breathe again. Well, it wasn’t that bad, considering I just met the Captain of the Royal Guard himself, in the flesh. The line of guests breaks after the officers have been greeted, and Syllable finds himself free to either roam the courtyard or wander inside to the main keep. Suddenly, he feels his shoulders relax, and his breathing becomes steadier.

I’m a guest at the Royal Court, spending the New Year’s Eve with the cream of Canterlot’s social life. I actually made it here. He looks around, but not a single glare dodges his gaze. He is just one of the guests, perhaps the youngest one of them all, but still their equal in every sense of the word. At least tonight he is. A faint smile creeps wide on his lips, and he accepts a drink from a waiter. He takes a long sip of the liquid that spoils his taste as soon as it drenches his mouth. The beautiful glass is lowered empty, and a flint strikes in Syllable's eyes. The sun and moon seem to smile at him as he turns his head towards them.

It’s your evening, Syllable. Show these folks that you can do more than just spell.

***


“...to which she answered that she’d rather have her tea without milk!” finishes Professor Axiom. The small group gathered around him and Chillburn laughs heartily, joining in as if she’d actually enjoyed the jape. I wonder whether that’s the same joke he tells at every party, or if he does indeed have another one stored for a bad day. She stops her giggling, and looks at a tall Pegasus stallion who begins to recount some incident that the joke has stirred in his memory. From the corner of his eye she sees that Axiom is looking at her as he empties another glass of that sweet wine. It’s not the first time she has noticed him eyeing her like that tonight.

“Speaking of which,” begins a middle-aged mare whose name Chillburn can’t recall no matter how many times she hears it, “I heard that Princess Cadence has blessed us with her presence tonight. I hear she arrived today straight from the Crystal Kingdom.”

“And without her husband, I hear…” says a tall dark-green stallion.

A small, wrinkled mare joins the conversation. The heavy scent of her perfume almost makes Chillburn gag. “I said it at the day those two got married, It shan’t last a year.”

“And since it has already been two since they were wed, I’d say that foretelling denounces itself,” says the middle aged mare. “Still, I cannot help but wonder why the Princess would abandon her husband like that.”

“Might be that somepony wants to say something without actually saying it,” comments the dark-green stallion, who apparently is married with the middle-aged mare. Chillburn ponders idly in her mind whether his member tastes like grass or cabbage. At least his tone has a taste of both in them.

“Or that something has already been said,” continues the old mare, “and it’s too late to take it back.” She looks Chillburn into the eyes. “What do you think, child?”

Whether you got your perfume from a cemetery or from a barn, hag. What she actually says is. “I do not bother myself with the love affairs of other ponies that often.” Silence descents into the circle, but the overall noise of the Crystal Hall keeps the awkwardness at bay. Chillburn notices how Axiom waves for a waitress for another drink.

“Perhaps that is because you find so much work in your own?” says the middle aged mare while she sips from her glass. Chillburn almost slaps the thing from her hooves.

Instead, a nasty grin spreads on her lips. “It’s funny that you mention that. Your husband truly has caused me some aching during our recent dates.” Her eyes gleam as the mare chokes on her drink, and the dark-green stallion grows pale in seconds. She hears Axiom chuckle by her side.

“I think I saw our Headmaster over there, and I promised to introduce you to him,” says the professor to Chillburn as the stallion pats his wife on the back. “Will you permit me the pleasure to take you to him?” Axiom’s eyes are like granite, but the mare only grins at him.

“My, what could I ever deny from you?” The two quickly leave the other three ponies behind and disappear into the sea of guests. They walk for a while without a word.

“There was a grain of truth in my wish, you know,” he says in a voice that just barely carries over the background mumble. “There is somepony whom I would love you to meet.” He emptied his glass as if it was filled with clear water.

Chillburn keeps her eyes in front of her as they sail through the crowd. “You still haven’t properly explained why I had to come here in the first place. Why should I believe another word that leaves your mouth?”

“Have I ever lied to you? What reason do you have to doubt my words?”

“Lying by omission still counts as lying in my books, Axiom. You’re hiding something from me, and I’m starting to lose my patience.” And my nerves, too. Why has he acted so merrily all evening? It’s not like him at all.

Another glass of the red liquid is seized by Axiom’s magic. This time he only takes half of it with a single gulp. “In wine, the wisdom. Why won’t you have a sip, dear? Your nerves seem to be a bit on the edgy side, I find.” He offers her the glass, but she shakes her head.

“I’m serious. All night I have been listening to you telling the only joke you know to ponies that sneer every time they glance at my flank.” It was fun to make them drown in their drinks for the first twenty times it happened, but enough is enough. This place is getting too poisonous for me.

The grey stallion wobbles a bit as a retinue walking past them brings their progress to a temporary halt. His eyes stand in their sockets, and the smell of alcohol is strong around him. “You think I enjoy this place any more than you do?” he says, his voice harsh and cold. “I only come to these events because the wine is good, just like I only come to you because you're good. In your special, naughty way.” He gives her a look she doesn’t like one bit.

He is more drunk that I thought. I need to get out of here. Now. “Why don’t we pay a visit outside before meeting this mystery friend of yours? The air here is nothing short of suffocating.” She tries to sneak past the ponies moving in front of them.

But she can’t. She can’t move. Her eyes blink a few times as she tries desperately to move her legs, her head, her anything, but nothing happens. It’s as if she was dressed in a very tight costume that only lets her eyes move. And they certainly are bouncing in her head as blind panic begins to course through her mind.

She feels a breath washing over her right ear. “No,” whispers Axiom with a tone that would make a shudder move through her spine, were it not for her paralysis. “You come with me.” With her eyes going wild, Chillburn’s right leg takes a step without her will having anything to do with it. As the crowd disperses again, her body begins to walk alongside Axiom’s, and there is nothing she can do about it.

She tries crying for help, but even her tongue is affected by whatever force holds her as a prisoner in her own body. Did he cast a curse on me? But how, I didn’t notice a thing! What the hell is happening to me?! Her mind screams the questions her mouth can’t, but the effect is not quite the same. She feels herself walking as if she did the deed herself, or perhaps a bit more clumsily. She tries to look at Axiom on her right side, but he is walking a few steps behind her now, as if he is guiding her. But when she stumbles at a waitress, he enters her field of vision.

She sees that the old top hat he is wearing covers his horn. But under the rim, she can just make out a faint grey glow. You bastard! You pig! You will not get away with this, you will not! Her mind burns with rage, but all she can do is watch as he curses at the poor waitress and sends her away with tears in her eyes, to the confusion of the bystanders. She tries to alert them by straining all her energy to scream, to jump, to wiggle her nose, but her attempts fall in vain. A shadow of desperation flickers in her eyes as she begins to walk again, even faster now.

They quickly leave the Crystal Hall and head deeper into the keep, and soon leave the noise of the crowd behind them, along with most of the guests. No one tries to stop them as they enter into halls that haven’t even been lit for the celebration. Most of the guards must be outside, or in their own parties. Where is he taking me? What is he going to do to me? The rage has had time to cool down, and now its practically freezing the mare as she realizes that she is at complete mercy of the stallion. They cross another corridor, and enter into a dark room lacking windows.

She stands still in the dim, feeling more helpless than she has ever before. Somewhere behind her, she hears Axiom move, and soon has to blink her eyes a moment later as candles light up all over the room. As she gets used to the light, she sees a couple of sofas and chairs surrounding a table. A heavy rug covers the floor that seems more homely than she would have expected to see in a Royal Castle. What is this? Are we in the private parts of the Castle? How dare he come here? Has he completely lost his mind? She senses him walking behind her, slowly, so very slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. It’s then that her heart stops from the thought that strikes her. He is going to rape me here. He has been planning this all day, perhaps longer. The shrill cry that fights the paralysis almost rips her tongue apart.

She feels him standing right behind her, his breathing washing the back of her neck. Her muscles are tense enough to snap, the way she uses every ounce of her concentration to force her body to move, to resist, to flee, to do anything else than to stand still as his hoof touches her mane. The stench of alcohol stains the air, and the mare feels dizzy. She tries to hold her breath in a desperate attempt to lose her consciousness, but her lungs betray her and they refuse to hold air. Her eyes stare right in front of her; they are nailed to the opposite wall.

“Have I ever told you how good you look in candlelight?” his voice is like gravel. She closes her eyes and actually wishes he would do it already, get it over with, and not torment her like this. “I sincerely hope this experience will teach you something about life. I sincerely do.”

She breathes as if every intake was her last, and waits for the pain to hit her. Every second that goes by makes the next feel longer, and if the mare could scream, she would do so until her lungs failed or her heart stopped. But nothing happens, not even when the seconds turn to minutes. Her breathing steadies, but only a bit, and she suddenly can’t feel his presence anymore. Her eyes open in a flash and try to look over her shoulder, too see what he is doing, but she is still as stiff as a plank. Minutes pile on top of each other like leaves during autumn, like snow in winter. She can feel their weight in her heart, and begs that something, anything, would happen.

“Good evening, Chillburn,” says a calm female voice somewhere behind her. Instinctively, Chillburn tries to turn her head, and to her great surprise, succeeds in doing just that. She almost collapses as she finds her body back under her own control. The tears that can finally well up in her eyes and fall along her cheeks feel better than any kiss she has ever received.

“Is everything alright with you?”

Chillburn stands up, shaking slightly, and looks at the speaker. Her heart skips a beat as she recognizes her. “What is this,” Chillburn asks, incredulous.

Princess Luna smiles her friendliest smile to the terrified young mare in front of her. “I thought you might be a bit stressed about meeting me, but I certainly didn’t expect you to get that nervous.” She smiles as if she’d find the situation amusing.

“A bit stressed…” Chillburn looks at the Princess of Night as if she was pointing a crossbow at her face. Then her terror ignites into rage. “A bit stressed! A BIT STRESSED!”

Luna’s smile vanishes. “I also didn’t expect you to be so very oblivious of good manners.” She tilts her head a bit, and offers her a more careful smile. “Did the good old Axiom scare you a bit when he brought you here?”

She has no idea what happened between us. She doesn’t know. By using every bit of reason and planning she has left in the wildfire of her mind, Chillburn hides the inferno she was about to unleash into the corners of her heart, where it continues to pulse like a forge. But it no longer distorts her face nor her words. “I… I beg your pardon, Princess. He might have said something that unnerved me, yes. But I overreacted, for my eternal shame. My emotions got the better of me.” I will not show my distress to her. Axiom will be mine to deal with.

“Would like to sit down?” Luna asks kindly. “The couch there is a bliss for a weary pony.”

Her instinct almost makes her refuse the offer, but her legs do feel a bit shaky still, and she would loath to wobble in front of a princess. “Yes, perhaps that is for the best. Thank you.” She walks carefully to the purple sofa, and feels the satin caressing her skin. Luna follows her example, and settles herself on an opposite armchair. A moment goes by in silence.

“Why am I here?” Chillburn asks, tiredly eyeing the dark-blue alicorn in front of her. It is the first time she has seen a princess this close, and even though she seems friendly, there is a sense of mystery that surrounds her. And Chillburn has never been fond of mysteries.

Luna puts a hoof around the back of the armchair, and relaxes. “That is the question, is it not? Why is anypony here, in this world, in the first place? Someponies spend the better part of their waking hours pondering that.”

“Is it philosophy that your highness seeks to discuss with me?”

“Please, call me Luna. Everypony does, nowadays. Would you fancy a drink?”

Is she trying to lower my defenses with these casual gestures? What for? “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you certain? This wine is a treat to the tongue, I assure you,” Luna says and pulls a bottle and a few glasses from a rack along the wall. They fly in between them and before Chillburn can say a word, she finds a glass full of dark liquid offered to her.

“Well, if your highness insists…” she accepts the drink, but keeps it well away from her lips.

“Please. Luna will do fine.” The princess, on the other hoof, doesn’t hesitate to dip into the liquid courage. Her eyes never leave Chillburn, though.

Chillburn hesitates a moment. “As you will… Luna.” She dares to take a sip, and the sweet aroma immediately flows into her muscles, taking some of her tension away. “Oh my. Where does one get wine like this?”

“From the past. Nothing tastes like the past.”

“That depends on the subject of the past in question, I’d say.” Chillburn takes another sip, and another wave of serenity pulses through her, sinking into every cell. Shel feels calmer already, as unlikely as that seemed a few minutes ago.

Luna studies the young mare with what seems to be casual interest. “I dare to disagree. Every moment in history carries something valuable in itself, something worth cherishing. Something worth enjoying.”

“What are we talking about, exactly?”

“Is it not obvious? We are talking about you, Chillburn.” Luna’s eyes shine like the moon behind clouds, and they illuminate as much as they conceal.

“I’m confused. Why would a princess wish to discuss about a lowly whore? Why would anypony?”

Luna’s gorgeous mane dances in slow rhythm around her neck. “Is that the final truth about you, Chillburn? A lowly whore who each night sacrifices herself for the pleasure of some stranger?”

“I mostly work during daylight, you know. And it’s not like I wouldn’t get pleasure from it myself. But yes, that pretty much sums it up.” She takes another sip, and smiles. “Is this the reason you have summoned me here? To discuss about my depraved way of living? To accuse me of it?”

“No. That is not why I have summoned you here tonight. But let us not get ahead of ourselves.” Luna shifts in her chair, and leans forward a bit, the glass floating by her head. “Would you like to know how exactly you ended up drinking a century-old wine with the Princess of Night?”

“Funny that you brought that up. I did wonder a bit about that, actually.”

A gentle smile visits Luna’s lips. “As you may or may not know, my sight is not limited only into my eyes, and especially not during the dark of night. Thus I often times witness events that someponies think go unnoticed.” The clouds begin to unveil the depth of her eyes. “Yesternight was no exception to this.”

Chillburn shrugs, the wine sloshing in her glass. “So you saw me having a bit of fun with some guys. Oh my. I bet you must witness scenes like that every night.” A wicked grin spoils her face. “Benefits of the position, right?”

Luna only chuckles. “Oh, it was an okay show, although you are gravely mistaken if you think that kind of play would make me turn my dark side. I’m no stranger to carnal pleasures myself, not as a witness nor as a participant, and it troubles me not to admit that. Nonetheless, it was by chance that I happened to stumble into your little threesome.”

Her casual tone makes an ill fit for those eyes. But it doesn’t look like I came here to be scolded. “It seems neither of us mind living a life of vice. How about we cut to the chase, then, like one whore to another. Why. Am I. Here?”

“Patience, Chillburn, patience. Even a life of vice needs an occasional taste of virtue, for a spice if nothing more.” Luna pours her glass full again, and for a moment the sound of falling liquid fills the silence. “By chance I found you that night, but by fate I stayed with you the rest of it. I want to help you, Chillburn, because that is my duty, my noblesse oblige, my job.”

“I go to medical checks every other week already, thank you very much.”

“Your remarks and japes make for a stern shield, do they not? But it is not your body that suffers for the pleasure that you make it go through, but your soul.”

“You claim you can see into my soul with your… moonsight?”

“That nopony can do. But one does not need to look in order to see. Bragging is not one of my favourite vices, but I do have a way of knowing when ponies need help for wounds that are invisible to the plain eye. And your cuts bleed every day and every night, and they have bled for a while, I find.”

The two mares stare each other over the table. Flame against the moon, fire against silver, and neither is willing to give up. They blink at the exact same time, and the moment is lost. “Tell me then. What is it that bleeds in me? What it is that you seek to cure?” Chillburn rolls her her hoof against the edge of her glass, and an eerie singing fills the air.

Luna waits for the noise to die, and in the silence she whispers: “You are barren.”

The shards of glass cut into the mare’s skin as she crushes it with her hoof. Blood trickles on the satin couch, and mixes with the wine that spreads on the fine fabric. “You have no right… no right to talk to me about that…” the rage in her tone almost suffocates her words, almost suffocates herself, and finally it collapses on itself as her voice breaks. “You have no right.”

“Will you let me tend your wound?” Luna’s voice is like velvet, like moonshine wrapped in velvet.

“Who… told you that? Was it doctor Splint? I demand to know who told you that!” The mare’s voice shakes along with her front hooves, and the right one is still bleeding to the couch and floor. Her eyes pierce Luna like flaming swords.

She takes the blades right into her heart, and her eyes flicker as sorrow bleeds inside her. “Empathy,” Luna whispers again. “It was empathy that told me your tale, that knitted it together from the countless hints that you yourself gave to me.”

Chillburn looks at her, and the confusion eats away some of the suffocating rage. “What… what do you mean, ‘empathy’ told you?”

“Why do you think alicorns are made and not born?”

The fire meets again with the silvery stone, but not in war this time. Instead, the encounter almost manages to connect the two beings together in perfect display of sympathy. But the sea of emotion welling inside Chillburn cancels the event in a blink of an eye. “So what if you can’t have offspring either? That doesn’t mean you can just slice up my soul and see what makes it tick.”

“That option has indeed been denied from my kind. Alicorns are sterile by purpose; it is to make sure that our love and duty do not clash, as our duty is to love all, and not just a few. Our people are our children, our offspring, our family.” Unexpectedly, a smile lights up Luna’s solemn expression. “But your state is not determined by fate, but by mere coincidence and ill fortune. It’s determined by your past, not by your future. As such, it can be cured.”

Chillburns eyes go wide, and her lips quiver faintly. “Wh—what are you saying? No, it can’t be… I have been to every doctor in Canterlot, I have tracked every ruin of a rumour that may have relieved me from this… curse… but they all said the same thing. My state is final.”

“And that is why you find such cruelty in your cutie mark, and in the stars above. Because they gave you the flower of pleasure, but not the seed to grow from it.” Luna’s eyes wander down Chillburn’s right flank, as do hers. Inscribed on her delicate skin, a picture of a burning red rose lies. The flames are blue as ice.

A tear stains the image, and the mare swallows a bitter mouthful. “Your eyes truly see more than most, Luna.”

“They see because they must.”

“What is this cure you speak of?”

Luna sighs, and looks at the mare’s eyes again. She doesn't try to fight them anymore. “First things first. Let me treat that wound on your hoof.”

The mare looks at her right hoof, and seems surprised to find that she is trickling blood all over the furniture. “I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Never mind that. Just let me see to it.” Chillburn offers her hoof, and Luna inspects it carefully. “You have a few shards under your skin. I can remove them, but it will hurt a bit.”

“Do it.” The mare closes her eyes and bites her lip.

Luna’s horn glows as she separates the glass from the flesh, and the mare endures through the process while holding her tongue. After all the bits are out, she wipes the blood off with her magic. “I don’t have bandages at ready, but it seems that the bleeding has stopped for now. Would you like me to summon somepony to finish this up for you?”

“No. I want to know more about this cure.” She breathes heavily, but doesn’t cringe even as her hoof throbs from the pain.

“Very well. But after that I will see that you will be treated appropriately.” Luna sits again on the chair, and takes a sip from her glass. “There is a spell that can restore fertility to land, animal, and pony alike. It’s strong magic, and old. And it only works during one special day of the year.”

“The New Year’s Eve?”

Luna nods. “Correct. This is a time when anything can happen, when everything is possible. When something new can emerge into the world.” Luna sets the empty glass on the table. “This is why I have been so straightforward with you. The magic only works for this one day and night. You have to make up your mind now.”

Chillburn’s eyes blink, and she shifts nervously on her seat. “Uhm, what do you mean? If you can heal me, then do it already!”

“It is not quite that simple. The spell can only make you fertile for an hour, and that is the timespan you have available to make it count.”

“You mean that I have to conceive tonight if I want to conceive at all? But that’s impossible! I don’t know anypony who would like to have a child with me!” The mare leans on her damaged hoof, and cringes as the pain travels through her limb. “Can I not wait a year and make my choice then?”

Luna looks at the mare’s vexed expression, and a flicker travels past her eyes. “You could wait… but that would mean another year of void, another year of unfulfilled anguish for you. And the cracks have almost shattered you already. Do you think you could spend such a long time only pondering this one thing? It might very well cost you your sanity.”

Something in the princess's eyes makes Chillburn shiver. It’s as if a shadow covered her now, an oppressive feeling that she needs to make a choice and she needs to make it soon. She glances at the clock that rest over a fireplace. It’s almost ten already. “But… where on Earth can I find a suitable stallion in two hours? Everypony here knows what I am, and none of them would willingly risk their status by laying with me tonight.”

Luna smiles like a sphinx. “There might very well be a suitable candidate for you in this very castle. I expect that you still remember the name Reg Syllable?”

The mare’s eyes remain blank for a fraction of a second, and then a memory fills them with light of understanding. “Are you serious? Him? But we don’t know each other at all!”

“And still he is the closest male to your heart in vicinity. Or would you rather prefer Professor Axiom? I recall seeing him enter one of your apartments on many occasions.”

The simple mentioning of Axiom’s name makes the mare shudder deep inside. “No. Not him.”

“Syllable has strong feelings towards you, if I may say so. He dreamed about nothing else during the night you met. And not just in that special way young stallions dream about young mares…”

Chillburn raises an eyebrow to that. “Apparently you treat privacy with a very light touch.” Luna only smiles to that. “Is he really present in here?” continues Chillburn. “I never thought he could get invited to a party like this…” A shadow of doubt crosses her face. “This situation starts to resemble a set-up of some sort.”

Luna’s eyes reveal nothing. “It is an opportunity that is offered only to few. Still, it is your choice.”

Chillburn averts her gaze and looks at her cutie mark. Even after all these years, it still seems to mock her. “I want to meet him. Alone.”

“It can be arranged. Shall I invite him here? Somepony could finish up with your hoof in the meantime.”

“...why are you doing all this? What do you want?”

“All I want,” says Luna as the clock above the fireplace strikes ten, “is to make you happy.”

***

Reg Syllable is drunk, and not just because of the alcohol in his veins. He is drunk of the evening itself, of the company, of the music, of the dancing, all of it. He is drunk in a way in which one of the waitresses smiles at him while he takes a drink from her tray. “...and like I was saying,” he continues as the mare winks at him and disappears into the crowd, “that incident proves how timber wolves can’t be negotiated with.” Everypony around laughs, and the sound makes blessed music for his ears. “Nonetheless, they can be quite efficiently piled, if one knows the right spell.” More laughter, more music.

“You’re a treasure, Reg,” says a unicorn mare with green eyes. Like most of the group present, she is one the School’s younger teachers. “I haven’t had this much fun since last year’s Nightmare Night.”

Another unicorn mare continues: “Oh, you mean the time when Professor Axiom entrenched inside his office because of the enchanted rubber spiders that somepony had made to plague him? That was absolutely priceless!”

Yes, and it definitely was worth the time I had to spent learning that spell, thinks Syllable as he takes a gulp of cider. He is about the reveal the secret behind that story, too, but the look he sees on the green-eyed mare’s face stops him. It’s a look of awkward surprise.

“Uhm, hello to you too, Professor Axiom!” she says, and stares behind Syllable, whose smile sinks with his heart.

The grey stallion grunts as he pushes his way into the circle. “I swear to you, if I ever catch that hooligan who unleashed those creatures on me, I shall have him chained in the School’s dungeons.” His tone kills all thoughts of interpreting the idea as a joke, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling at the notion. His expression changes dramatically when he sees Syllable standing next to him, though. “What in the heavens are you doing here?” His breath stenches of alcohol.

“Uhm… enjoy the small talk?” ventures Syllable. A few laughs escape from the younger teachers, but Axiom freezes them with his glare.

“This pony is nothing but a shame for the School! Who invited him to attend this event? Was it one of you who brought him here?” The stallion’s eyes gleam as he sweeps the circle, and the other teachers cover in front of his drunken accusations.

“I understand he was invited just as we all were, Axiom,” says the mare with green eyes. Her stare doesn’t flinch under his irritated look. “Weren’t you, Reg?”

Syllable feels Axiom’s eyes drilling into his temple, and a shudder travels along her spine. He manages to keep his voice steady, though, as he turns to face him from eye to eye. “Indeed I was. Would you like to see my invitation, Professor?”

The grey stallion sniffs angrily. “I don’t care to know from who you stole it, or how you forged it.” His eyes narrow down dangerously. “Get out of here this instant!”

“Professor, that is quite uncalled for,” says the mare. Her mane really suits her eyes, thinks Syllable in the middle of the tension that has seized his relaxed mind and body.

“Shut up, Elaine! I’m the head of the history faculty, and I’m responsible for my department’s honour! The presence of this joke of a student here is nothing but an insult towards that honour. I want him out!”

“Perhaps I should get some fresh air…” says Syllable, and begins to leave the circle. He is stopped by a strong hoof that seizes his shoulder from behind. His boxer’s instinct makes him turn instantly, but instead of facing a drunken professor, he finds himself staring into the stern eyes of the Second Lieutenant of the Royal Guard.

“Reg Syllable?” asks the deep and commanding voice.

“Y—yes?”

“Please come with me. It is a matter of great importance.”

Syllable blinks a few times, and hears himself saying: “Okay.” Before he has time to realize it, he is walking behind the tall stallion and away from the company of his faculty, who watch him disappear into the crowd. As he glances behind, Syllable can see a malicious grin on Axiom’s face. What kind of trouble has that mummy arranged for me this time? He shows his tongue to the grey unicorn, and smiles as rage colours his face red.

As they depart from the crowd and make it to more quiet corridors, Syllable dares to speak to the Lieutenant. “Am I in some kind of a trouble?”

“I was only instructed to fetch you, lad.” The soldier doesn’t even bother glancing at him.

A dozen other questions spring to Syllable’s mind, but the tone and behaviour of his escort makes the idea of presenting them seem futile. So he holds his tongue and prepares to face whatever is coming at him. Perhaps this is why I was invited here to begin with. Well, they can’t have anything worse in store for me than what Axiom did. The two walk deeper into the keep, and after a while, the officer stops behind a beautifully carved wooden door. “You’re supposed to go in,” he says, and his voice hints that choice doesn't have much to do with the issue. Syllable takes a deep breath, only to empty his lungs in one go afterwards. He walks to the door, pushes it open with his hoof, and shuts it behind himself with his horn.

The first thing he sees is the pony, apparently a mare, who sits on a couch, facing the other way. She is drooping her head slightly, but when the door closes, she raises it. Her ears turn towards the noise. It’s then that bells begin to ring in Syllable’s confused mind. That mane… It can’t be... There is no way... it can be her? But when she turns her head, all doubts disappear along with the strength of his legs. He almost stumbles where he stands as he sees those red eyes looking at him.

“Good evening, Syllable”, she says. Her voice sounds different than the night before. It’s thinner, and less secure.

Still, it manages to fill his head with emotions, thoughts, and bliss. “Is it… really you?”

The mare smiles, and nods him to come closer. “We need to talk. Would you come to sit?”

Syllable obeys without even thinking about it, and settles himself on the other end of the satin couch. He doesn’t even notice the dark stain between them, for his eyes are nailed to the mare of his dreams. He does notice her bandage, though. “Are you hurt?” he asks.

“It’s nothing. Look, I can only imagine the stuff that is going on in your head right now, and trust me, it’s not all that easy for me either to keep my thoughts together at the moment.” She glances at the clock, which is half past ten. “But time is not our ally tonight. That is why I beg you to hear everything I have to say, and not to interrupt me.” The mare blinks her eyes quickly for few times. “Could you do that for me?”

“Absolutely.”

The mare sighs. “Okay, then…” She starts to recount the events of the past few days, but even as she tries to keep her story simple and understandable, it grows and breaks out of control. She soon finds herself recounting her whole life’s story for a stallion she only knows by name. Whether it is the wine or the encounter with Luna that has made her this open, she can’t say, not for her life. She feels the words flowing not from her mind, but from her heart, and for a time longer than she can remember, she is being completely honest.

Syllable keeps to his word, even though it becomes harder by the minute. All other thoughts leave him as he concentrates on the mare’s story, and more importantly, on the implications of it. The same spell that makes the mare open her heart for him has captured him, too, and he feels detached from the room, from the night, from himself. When she finally finishes, a strange sensation has filled him, and it’s as if he had not spent mere minutes on that couch, but his whole life.

“...that is when the Princess left me here, and told me that you would be coming,” finishes the mare. Her eyes are tired, and anxious. The flame that lived in them seems to have been quenched. She looks at Syllable, who finds himself yet again imprisoned by those pools of vermilion.

“I feel I’m in some kind of a fable, and that the storyteller just decided to see how much pressure I can take at once.” He tries to smile a bit, but the gesture doesn’t relieve his tension one bit. “This is the most perplexing moment of my life.”

The mare smiles, too, and it’s her light that gives strength to Syllable’s nerves. “I know it’s quite a hefty shock… It was for me, anyway…” She absentmindedly swirls her own curls with a hoof.

Syllable coughs faintly. “So… You really want to have a child?”

“Yes! I mean, I think I do… The thought has haunted me ever since I got to know that I was infertile. I have tried everything in my power to get pregnant with scores of different ponies, and at some point I just lost hope. But I continued to hook up with stallions, seducing them, going through them like books.” The mare’s curls spin around her hoof in thick layers now. “At some point, all I wanted was another affair, another body lying next to me. And I thought: If this is what my life has come down to, then I might as well get paid for it. It didn’t take long after that for the rumours to spread and voilá: I had become the most famous whore in Canterlot.”

“...all the while only trying to have a family,” whispers Syllable. His eyes blink as he tries to imagine the despair the mare in front of her has gone through, and he can’t. “That… is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

A short smile crosses the mare’s lips. “It would make a terrific novel, I bet.” Tears begin to glisten in her eyes.

Syllable wants to hug her, embrace her, tell her that it will all be okay, that she is the most beautiful and bravest pony he has ever met. He wants to tell her that he loves her, that he’d want nothing more than to spend the rest of his live with her. He wants to be part of the fable, not as a villain or a coward, but as the hero. But it’s his life that is at stake here, and he has just been asked to have a child with a mare he has known barely for a day.

“Look,” he says, “I can’t emphasize enough how much I adore your beauty and courage, but you must understand the difficulty of the situation I’m in here.” He cringes as she turns her face away. “But you said that the spell will work next year, too? I’m sure that by then you will find somepony who you know you can love, and who you can start a family with. I can barely maintain my own life as it is, and I don’t only mean the financial side of it.”

“Money is not a problem for me,” whispers the mare from the cover of her mane. “I have loads of it. Pleasuring the cream of Canterlot is a profitable business, even though it has cost me the respect of most of them.”

“Oh. I see. But still, there must be a more suitable father for your child out there than me. Why can’t you wait one more year to get to know him?”

“That is a very reasonable and wise point you make. It shows that my original estimation of you was not incorrect.” The mare looks again at Syllable, her eyes shimmering. “I have waited for enough years already. This is what I want, and I want to have it either with you, or without you. I can raise my child alone, Syllable. That is how my mother raised me. But for this one night, I need you with me. Or in me, to be more precise.” She smiles shyly after the last sentence.

Her words make him shift in his seat. “I honestly don’t know if I can give you even that. Not that I wouldn’t want to… but how could I live and know that we have a child together? How could I forget that?”

The mare wipes her tears, and when her hoof lowers, a promise of pleasure masks her face. “You don’t need to forget anything. I could either move away from Canterlot, or you could pay us a visit anytime you wanted. We would have the rest of our lives left to figure it out.” She puts a hoof on his thigh. “It’s the present that really matters.”

He feels his heart beat faster as that delicate skin meets his own once more. Her touch is full of promise, full of kindness and tenderness. The look in her eyes tells the same tale, and it’s luring him to jump into an unknown story full of wonders. He wants to have her so very badly. “Sugar Blossom… I…”

“Please. My name is Chillburn.” With that, she leans over him, and plants the gentlest of kisses on his lips that respond to hers like the Sun responds to the Moon as the two meet above the Castle of Canterlot, as the clock strikes eleven. The two ponies lock themselves into each other’s embrace, and a large mirror, leaning lazily against a corner of the room, shimmers for a second, and then quiets down.

In the room next doors, two alicorns stand in front of a similar mirror that shimmer’s momentarily like its twin did, and the sight of two ponies kissing on a couch evaporates within it. Now it only shows two immortal beings, who instinctively glance at each other in the mirror’s surface.

“I suppose that means he agreed,” says Princess Cadence, smiling cheerily. “I shall cast the spell at once.”

“Do that,” responds Luna, smiling likewise in the mirror. “I hope it does not interrupt their little moment, though?”

“Oh, they won’t notice a thing, I assure you. I know how to be discreet.” Cadence's horn glows and her eyes close as a spell as old as fertility itself focuses within her. Her whole figure glows for a moment, and then settles down. “Done!”

Luna raises an eyebrow. “That’s it? A bit… too discreet, if you ask me. Will it surely work?”

Cadance only chuckles. “What, were you expecting fireworks? Or trembling of the whole castle? Why, you of all ponies should know that ‘the thoughts that change the world come on doe’s feet’.” Cadence turns away from the mirror, and goes for the door with Luna stepping behind her.

“Is that a quote from the philosopher Haydegger?” asks the darker alicorn.

“It’s Neighzsche, actually. Quite a clever fellow, that one.”

“Until he lost his mind, of course,” corrects Luna. The two come to a dimly lit corridor, and meet the Second Lieutenant who stands by the other door. The alicorns nod to him as he salutes them.

“Make sure that the two ponies in there are not be disturbed, not for the next hour or so at least,” says Luna to him.

“Yes, my Princess.” They leave him standing in attention, and head back to the Crystal Hall.

“You think Chillburn will actually marry that student, or will she leave him to bite the dust right after she has had her way with him?” asks Luna.

“I hope they will stay together; such a cute pair they make. But does it matter?”

“No, not at all. She will no longer plague the nobles of the city with her services, and that is what matters.” Luna rolls her eyes theatrically. “You wouldn't believe how fervently some of them pressured me and my sister to solve this little problem of theirs.”

“The ponies of this city can be so conservative. In the Crystal Kingdom we have no such problems with ponies who take it as their destiny to please other ponies in the bedroom.”

“I would not mind it either, but Celestia thought it best not to agitate the elite too much. Mark my words, though: She herself never tried to defend Chillburn, either.”

“That’s just how elder sisters are, I guess.”

The two stop behind the doors that muffle the noise of the parties within, and Luna turns towards the pink alicorn. “I must thank you again for coming on such a short notice. I myself am somewhat rusty when it comes to fertility spells.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I was happy to assist both you two and Miss Chillburn. She seems to be a mare one could grow very fond of.”

“If one fancies to play with fire, that is.” The two smile at that.

“I must ask you, though,” continues Cadence, “how did you get her to come here? Some of the guests are sneering even at me!”

“Well… I happened to get somewhat lucky in that matter. And I may have used this one professor for my advantage…”

“Oh, do tell more.”

Luna sighs. “In a dream I told the professor, who was spending a night with Chillburn, that I intended to punish the mare for her wicked ways, and humiliate her in front of the court. I asked him to invite her to the Gala, and to set her up with me.”

“Couldn’t you have just told him the truth?”

“Not to this one, no. He is not so keen on helping other ponies, you see. Still, I wanted to get this affair over with, so I had to bend the rules a bit and lie to him.”

“What a dreadful pony he must be,” says Cadence as a shudder travels through her.

“You do not know the half of it. He even goes around claiming how he regularly meets with Celestia, who is supposedly helping him with some book or something. Tells that to anypony who bothers to listen, and complains how busy he is all the time. We put up with him because he is going to retire this year, anyway.”

“Makes me all the more glad that I live in the Crystal Kingdom now…”

“Oh, do stop bragging about that already!” says Luna playfully as they open the doors and step into the Hall, chatting about this and that as ponies all over bow before them. The crowd is already starting to move outside, as the culmination of the night is at hoof; the moment when the sun and the moon cross each other’s paths in the clear sky above the magical city.

The night has only just begun.