"Those ponies stole my chickens!" yelled a middle-aged earth pony mare in a straw hat, pointing a hoof at a group of similarly-attired ponies.

"We did not!" said another earth pony mare in the opposing group, which numbered half a dozen.

The elder Blueblood—Prince, or Duke, or whatever his status was after Princess Luna's berating—stood between the two parties. His eyes were bloodshot and his lids were baggy, but he forced himself to nod or grunt at the appropriate moments during this impromptu evening audience in the castle courtyard.

"I saw you leave the castle with a full sack the same night my flock disappeared," insisted the accuser, "and now, a few weeks later, you've come back with an empty bag. What was in it?"

"If I may," the Duke interjected, silencing both parties instantly, "where did you all go? There is much work to be done here, and your absence was noted."

They collectively shuffled their hooves and studiously avoided their lord's gaze.

"Is this something you must tell me in private?" Blueblood asked.

"No, Your Highness," a younger stallion said. "We went to see Oracle. But we bought the sacrifice! We didn't steal it."

"Not only thieves," the mare in the straw hat said, "but superstitious colluders with dragons as well! Your Highness, this family has clearly lost its way."

The family grumbled and rabbled before Blueblood interrupted again. "Why did you go to that place?"

"Well..." they all looked at each other in turn, before another young buck continued.

"We wanted to ask if the weather would be favorable for our crops this year—"

"What?" the Duke growled. "Of course it will. Our pegasus squads have upheld their schedule."

"Maybe in this part of the province, but..." Seeing the stern looks from the rest of his family, the speaker fell silent.

"Whatever the case," Blueblood's voice increased in volume, so that the various spectators could hear as well, "I henceforth forbid anypony to venture to that mountain. It is a horrible thing to offer up innocent animals to be consumed by that beast, and neither I nor Princess Celestia approve of the practice. If there are problems with your harvests, they will be formally petitioned to your local weather teams. If they cannot solve the issue, the petitions will be sent to me and I will deal with them myself. Are my commands clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness," chorused the assembled ponies.

"Now then," he said, turning his exhausted eyes to the mare who had lost her chickens, "since there are no witnesses to back up your story, you will have to settle for restitution of damages. What was the value of your flock?"

"One thousand bits, your Highness."

"You will have to rebuild using two hundred and fifty," Blueblood the Elder said with an inward groan after quickly calculating this month's expenses. "Speak to my seneschal and she will arrange the payment. Now, is this affair settled?"

Though the mare had many more words on the tip of her tongue, she kept them in and simply nodded. The family agreed with eager nods.

"Then I must retire to my chamber to attend to other affairs of the government," he said, reflexively yawning and rubbing a half-closed eye as he spoke. "Seek out one of my advisers if there are any further grievances. Good evening."

With a sweep of his elegant robe, the Duke withdrew, hauling himself up the steps to the inner keep, where his bedchamber called to him.

"I am so sick of this," he muttered to himself as he strode through the stone hallways. "First those bandits, then the Princess, and now that dragon."

"Do not forget, weary lord, that a certain zebra must not be ignored."

Blueblood gasped and drew back as he noticed the glint of Zecora's golden earrings and bracelets in the moonlight. She stood by a window, covered by a shadow yet still in plain sight, but he had taken no notice of her until she spoke. He was about to summon his guards, but instead he found himself listening carefully as she continued.

"I admit, I listened in a bit, and I have some words to speak, with your permit."

"Forgive me, but I must ask," he said, "do all zebras speak in the manner in which you do? It is difficult to understand."

"I believe it is just me," she replied, "and it is vital to keep my identity. It is not something which I can safely cease, but I will try to give my clarity an increase. To return to what I said before, will you hear what I say upon this score?"

"Please speak," he said politely, though his smile was offset by narrowed eyes.

"I will then be very quick," she told him. "These events will likely make Luna somewhat sick. Do not speak of it when she returns, and allow me to see to what she learns."

"Who are you to ask me to deceive my Princess?" Blueblood glared at her.

"'Deceive' is such a nasty and ugly word," Zecora said, returning his glare coldly. "We are telling the truth which is prefered. And if you must know, I believe this dragon's lair is where we will next go. Who am I to tell you what I portend? I am one who will follow her there; perhaps, one might say, a friend."

"I suppose her crown, her wealth, and her magical abilities have nothing to do with it then?"

"Read into my motives whatever you desire," she said, her voice on the edge of anger like a stew about to boil. "I know what I'm doing, and I am no liar."

"If you were not evidently important to the Princess in some way, I would have you arrested, zebra."

Zecora bounded straight into Blueblood's path, turning to bring her face just inches from his. "Even if I were not exempt, you would still fail in your attempt." Her eyes flashed with the fire of conviction.

Just as he was drawing himself up to properly respond, a familiar voice boomed from outside, above the castle bailey.

"Fear not, citizens! Tell us what has befallen this place and we shall mend it at once!"

"Well," said Zecora, stepping aside to trot back down the way they came, "that is my cue, and so I bid you adieu. Remember what I spoke, or beware of what you provoke."

Blueblood continued on down a few more twists and turns. With a gruff noise at the two guards standing watch over his chamber, he kicked the double doors open forcefully, then slammed them closed.

A crowd gathered underneath Princess Luna as she circled in the air. Confused and awed words stuck in their throats. The ponies cringed as she drew a breath to repeat herself, but just then Zecora came down the steps and into the courtyard.

"Zecora!" Luna said, flapping her wings slower and slower so that she could float back to the ground. "We heard cries and shouts! Is the castle under attack?"

"No no, my very good friend," Zecora said with an amused grin. "A simple argument, which has come to an end."

Luna leaned in and whispered. "Did they take issue with thee? 'Twas vain and foolhardy of me to leave thee alone..."

"That is not at all the case. I was happy to sleep in this place. They had very soft sheets, and many delectable eats. You should have stayed, rather than lying in some glade."

"I wish no more for such comforts, but I shall endure them if I must in order to rest closer to thee from now on."

Zecora nodded happily as Luna spun around to address the gathered peasants, laborers, craftsponies, and nobles who had come to watch. And to bow, as a quick afterthought.

"'Tis a great relief that you are safe. Thank you for your respect and hospitality. We wish we could stay longer, but many deeds of honor and glory call to us. Pray tell, where is Du—Prince Blueblood, that we might pay him our respects before our departure?"

After receiving directions, she and Zecora ascended the steps to where Blueblood the Elder was resting. The pair of guards around the doors saluted the Princess, then announced her arrival to their lord, who groaned his assent.

"We are most grateful for thy hospitality," she said immediately, barely giving him time to stumble out of bed. "And we doubly thank thee for putting aside thy prejudices and grievances and allowing madam Zecora to stay here. Yet alas, we must continue our journey. Wilt thou keep us apprised of the situation here, particularly in regards to those prisoners we brought? We are greatly concerned."

"How shall I do so if you are traveling, Your Highness?" asked the pony lord.

"Send a letter to Princess Celestia, and she will relay it to us."

"Ah," Blueblood said hesitantly. "Of course. Well, you do me and my family great honor with this visit, Princess Luna. Is there anything I can offer you before you go?"

"Thou hast already given more than enough," said Luna courteously. "Good evening, Duke Blueblood, and may the stars watch over thy dreams.”

"I wish you all speed and fortune, Your Highness," he said. As he emphasized the last two words, he cast a quick but meaningful look at Zecora, whose expression remained simple and tranquil the whole time.

The travelers then left to gather up their belongings. Luna saluted her subjects as she exited toward the opened outer gate of the castle. Her cloak billowed in the same supernatural wind her mane did—while Zecora's plain brown cloak remained almost motionless in the light evening breeze—and the effect of the dazzling flashes of light was heightened by the emotional glow of the Traditional Royal Farewell. The flashes created reflective patterns like multi-colored lightning strikes in the wide, staring eyes of the inhabitants of Castle Blueblood. Only in the eyes of its lord, who gazed down from a crenelation on top of his fortress, was there a hint of anything but awe. While he experienced that too, he also experienced terrible apprehension.

Luna and Zecora watched the green and brown plains of southeast Equestria roll by as the darkness of night deepened. Luna noticed that a storm of dust from the steppes of Andalusia was blowing straight toward them, and she guessed that at its current speed it would be on them the next day. That is odd, she thought. Are these storms not usually stopped by pegasi long before they reach this far? In preparation, she and Zecora pulled the hoods of their cloaks up and wrapped bits of cloth around their muzzles.

Past these plains, as Luna recalled, would be the rocky, deserted Cadiz mountain range, where several of the great dragons kept their lairs, including that of the Lost Mountain. She found her mind and body simultaneously drawn toward and repelled by the coming storm. They were nearing the frontier of Equestria, and going much farther would mean her leaving for the first time since her banishment to the moon. It was a necessary journey though, because it might help ascertain what ominous decay had befallen the treasures that she had sealed away in her former palace. I hope the situation around the Everfree Forest doth not deteriorate much further before I can return, she reflected. At their current pace, she estimated that they would be at the base of the mountain in a fortnight.

The two equines passed much of the time in silence, not least because opening their mouths could mean a throat full of sand. But during lulls in the winds, some of which were nights apart, they discussed snippets of their pasts. Luna spoke of her time as the commander of Equestria's military, which was concurrent with some of her journeys as the first chevalier. She bombarded Discord's fortresses with shining white comets, led an army of fully-armored pegasi against the griffons high in the dark skies, and devoted much of her free time to seeking out singular evils that she alone would be able to face.

"I loved to fight," she said. "'Twas a thrill and a rush unmatched in my experiences. I can perfectly recall when we went to war with the minotaurs. I charged one of their champions, and smote the bull upon the ground. Even now I see his yellow eyes brimming with rage." She smiled, and her wings fluttered. "I see his razor-sharp horns that would have gored me but for my dodging an inch further. I see his shock as my horn pierces his chest. I feel the warmth of his blood upon my muzzle. I taste his lifeforce on my tongue. I smell the fear of the warriors who had idolized his prowess mere moments before...

"Anyway..." she said, quickly shaking herself from that train of thought as her facial expression fell, "while I see that so perfectly, I can not remember the faces of some of my closest comrades. Ponies, griffons, donkeys, and others whom I promised never to forget, they have all faded away. I do not even remember some of their names.

"That is part of the reason I became so bitter in the first place. I felt as if I had sacrificed so much for my subjects, yet all those who had appreciated it gradually died off and were forgotten, sometimes even by myself. The common folk forgot them, and so they forgot me. Meanwhile, they praised Celestia to no end, because she was the skilled administrator and the benevolent face of the government. She was the one who was meant to be seen." Luna's countenance darkened, and she paused for a few minutes as a fresh wave of dust rolled in. This was just as well, as it allowed her some time to compose her feelings.

"I see my greatest mistake now, however," she went on after coughing harshly, as her long speech had allowed a stray cloud of particles to enter her lungs. It did not deter her from finishing. "I never asked for help. There were many around me who would have been eager to do so, but I had seen so many die already. I cut myself off from them so that I would not lead them toward similar fates. Moreover, I viewed myself as a martyr, a pony who could do the necessary dark and terrible things so that others would not have to, allowing them to live at peace in the light of day. But this notion was born more from selfish pride than from true compassion. Which reminds me...

"Tell me honestly, dost thou think I am currently too arrogant? Too prideful?"

Zecora's moment of reflection was brief, perhaps a little too brief for Luna's liking. "If you must know, Princess, then my answer must be yes." Luna's jaw set tightly. "But it is your confidence which inspires me to make such a difference. Your pride is something that could be improved, but I hope and pray it is never removed."

"I am very grateful for thy forthrightness," said Luna as she flexed her wings underneath her cape, as if simply reminding herself that they were there. "The words of Blueblood caught me quite off-guard, and they have stuck with me longer than I thought they would. I should have stripped him of land and title upon the spot, yet it is, in all likelihood, for the best that thou wert there to support me and cause me to consider my words more carefully."

She sighed and looked up, willingly taking a few light gusts of sand in the face and the accompanying coughing fit so that she could see the waning moon for a moment, shining brilliantly even through its obfuscation by the storm. "I am aware of my flaws, but it was not until he pointed them out that their possible extent occurred to me. If it is that bad, then I am concerned about what will happen when we get to the mountain. As I am sure thou art aware, dragons are quite proud themselves. The young ones will not know me, and so there may be... difficulties. Of course, I can defeat them if need be,"—Zecora rolled her eyes from the safety of the shadow cast by her hood—"yet I do not wish to expose thee to any unnecessary danger. Before I decide my course of action, I should like to hear any advice thou hast to offer on this subject."

"One thought does occur to my mind," Zecora replied. "Why not adopt a disguise and leave your crown behind?"

"I do stand out more than a little, my friend," Luna said, chuckling slightly.

"I can fix that with little difficulty, for I have things that can change much physically. Tell me what you desire to be, and shortly after, a brand new look you will see."

"Hmm," said the Princess. "That may be a wise path to pursue. I shall give it some thought. For now, daylight approacheth. Shall we rest here?"

She pointed to a steep, grassy hill which, with some work, would afford them some protection from the wind. They quickly set up a makeshift shelter, then laid down inside. They wrapped their legs around each other, huddling together against the intensifying storm.

In turn, Zecora went into greater detail about her country. She spoke lovingly of the city in which she was born, Timbucktu. One of the shining jewels of what used to be the Arabian empire, the mud-brick city, once home only to zebras, was now a bustling multicultural metropolis that boasted of having the finest scholars and shrewdest merchants in the whole southern continent. These professions remained dominated by zebras, who were famous for their peculiar thought processes and their accepting, pony-like regard for all life. It was they who forged the trade routes that brought the city its wealth of treasure and knowledge, and it was they who founded the University for which the city had become most renowned.

"Even as a small little foal," Zecora said, "learning there was my greatest goal. My father trained me in the older ways, but I didn't want to be a shaman for all my days. But I did meet my dark mentor, as I said, so maybe I should have chosen that instead."

She sighed deeply. "But it is of happier things I should speak, so allow me to paint a picture at which you can peek." She cleared her throat, and her voice slid into a different poetic meter than she normally used.

"At sunset the polished bricks in amber gleam,

Light reflects off of the glass domes.

A flurry and a flutter of white dreams,

Robed figures running to class with their tomes.

“They learn of plants and mirrors and songs,

Religion and art critiqued by great minds.

The mysteries of nature and our inner wrongs,

Dissected and studied by creatures of all kinds.

“Curiosity is one's greatest strength,

Knowledge the height of virtue.

All across the University's length,

Understanding is what they pursue.

“My heart times a perfect rhythm of skipped beats,

The space between them is most beautiful of all.

I long to join the storm of white sheets,

Then I can answer that emptiness's call."

She sighed again, though more lightly this time. "This I wrote a day before I enrolled, which at the age of sixteen was quite bold. I wrote it in the language of your race, for rhyme was a fun challenge to embrace. Both of my parents were a little displeased, but they could never stop me once my curiosity was seized. Alas, but a year before my graduation, the crimes of which I spoke compelled flight from my nation. I have never ceased my studies, though, and for that I believe I have much to show."

"It is definitely so," Luna said slowly, after taking a minute to reflect on everything she had just heard. "Zecora, thou art beautiful. And not only for thy knowledge."

"Come now, you flatter me quite a lot," said Zecora, instinctively turning away to hide her blushing, despite the layers of darkness from the night, the storm, and her cloak's hood blocking her face. "Let us set up camp here, upon this spot."

Luna grinned and assented. They set up a cloth barrier around an outcropping of rock, then drank and ate lightly. They shook the layers of dirt off of their packs, their clothing, and each other. The travelers curled up together and slept another day away.

At long last, Luna and Zecora stood at the base of the crimson crags that formed the barren Cadiz mountain range. The mountains, while not especially tall, had started to serve as a windbreak, and so the remnants of the previous weeks' storm were no trouble. It was finding and then ascending the specific mountain they sought that may have been trouble.

“Zecora,” Luna said, looking up at the first mountain along their way, which peaked nearly a mile above them. “Canst thou fly?”

“Yes, I can indeed,” she said, oblivious to the irony in Luna's voice, “I am prepared for many needs.”

“Wait, what—” Luna cocked an eyebrow. “Oh.”

“If you wish, you can watch once more, but be careful what you ask for.”

“Go ahead,” Luna said, facing her companion resolutely.

Zecora brought out a third mask. The wood was painted white, with a golden metal beak protruding from the center. On the top, an array of dark-hued feathers had been glued, ranging from black to soft gray. As Zecora pressed her face into the mask, it dug into her neck with wooden splinters, just like the others. The spread of the magical white wood enveloped her quickly, cracking bones and stretching flesh as it reformed her body into that of a lion, with the limbs of a bird of prey. Something moved under her skin on both of her sides, and then those somethings burst forth from her skin with a spray of blood; a pair of wings, with feathers that alternated colors just as the zebra's stripes did. Meanwhile, Zecora's face became that of an eagle with the same plumage as her wings. Her eyes were sharp and yellow, but they shone more like beacons than like predatory searchlights.

“In company, call me Aquitaine,” the griffon said, her second voice much softer and more refined than Luna expected from any of the race. Zecora began to preen the blood off of her feathers with her beak. “She is whose soul this mask contains.”

Luna's eyes did not widen and her mouth did not gape quite as much after this time witnessing the transformation. I shall have to grow even more accustomed to this, she told herself yet again.

“Well then,” Luna said, staring at the completely transformed face that was now looking back at her calmly. “This mountain is only the first part of the journey. There is another one between here and our goal, and then the Lost Mountain will be the highest. We must not forget our luggage either.”

“Will it then be too hard?” Zecora said in her strange double-voice, gently poking Luna in the ribs with a clawed finger. “Maybe this is a path we should disregard.”

“Nonsense!” Luna made a sound halfway between a scoff and a giggle as she batted the finger aside with her wing. “With my magic and my wings we shall be fine. I shall carry our luggage and spot for thee if thou must climb. 'Twill be difficult, but we shall prevail.”

“I have no doubt,” said the griffon-zebra. “Let us begin to climb this route.”

Beating their wings at a steady pace, Luna and Zecora flew far above the sharp, jagged rocks that adorned the nearly lifeless mountain. It was wide and shaped chaotically, but they spotted a narrow gorge that would allow them to proceed straight through.

Luna turned her head back to keep an eye on Zecora's progress as they wound their way through the small gap in the rocks. Zecora was sweating already, after only half an hour of flight. Luna considered that she may have to carry her friend eventually, possibly with her telekinetic magic, but for now she was grateful that Zecora had a mask that allowed her to fly. Even if it used to be a living, thinking being...

“Malay!” Zecora shouted a warning.

Luna turned just in time to see one of her wings get pierced straight through by a sharp, tiny cliff along the wall of the gorge. She screamed and drew it back, hovering lopsided as she surveyed the damage. About half of that wing was now useless. A bone toward the end had been broken, and now she could only flap partially, and only then because her body could take the agony of doing so.

Her companion came to hover beside her to take a look as well. “We must land very soon, before your wound makes you swoon.”

“I am well enough,” said Luna through her grimace, noticing with dismay the splatters of blood she was leaving on the stone with each stroke of her wings. “Let us make it through the gorge first. It should only be another quarter hour.”

Zecora was going to object, but she decided it would be better to get to steady ground quickly without argument. This time, it was she who was keeping an eye on Luna. The Princess was struggling, but she still managed to increase her speed enough that Zecora's griffon wings could barely keep up. Luna did not turn back anymore, so she easily dodged the rest of the dangers in the pass. As soon as she spotted a plateau that seemed safe to land on, she made right for it and folded up her wings for the final few feet, causing her to crash into the ground. Even so, the pain of her ungraceful landing was less than the relief from not having to flap her injured wing anymore.

Before Zecora even completed her own landing, she was pulling medicine and bandages out of her packs. She rushed over to her comrade and administered what aid she could. The pain subsided, but as it did, the situation started to fully sink in. Luna stamped the ground in frustration, causing shards of flint to fly out in every direction.

“It seems we shall need thy tools sooner than anticipated,” she said, gazing up at the second peak, through which she could neither remember nor perceive a shortcut.

“Why do we not rest?” Zecora protested. “Let us heal before we continue our quest.”

“No. I shall stop when the sun must rise, and not a moment sooner.”

“Let us stow away our packs at least, so that our burden may be decreased.”

“Very well then,” Luna said. “Pick what we shall need, and I shall cast an illusion spell upon the rest.”

Down to carrying essentials such as water, bandages, and climbing tools, the two adventurers made their way toward the next mountain in their path. Luna tied one end of their rope around her torso, just in case she fell and both her magic and her wings were too slow to react, while Zecora grabbed the other end and flew up as far as the length would allow. She dug a hook into the crimson rock, secured the rope to it, and then tugged to signal Luna to climb.

Hoofholds along the climbing path were sparse. Using her tail and good wing to balance herself, Luna leaped from perch to perch, casually swinging her lithe body upwards at a speed that astonished Zecora. With all four of her legs, her tail, her wing, and occasionally her mouth, all working in perfect concert, Luna reached the first hook before Zecora even realized that she was staring. After being shaken out of her stare by Luna's quizzical expression, she grabbed her end of the rope again and flew up to find another hold for the hook.

The ascent took several hours, and the descent several hours more. It was well past midnight when Luna and Zecora finally reached the bottom of the second mountain. The Lost Mountain was taller and steeper than the previous one. Luna's patience with this slow process was wearing thin much faster than her endurance was though, and so she decided to start devoting some of her magic to the task as well. With her horn glowing softly, she made her own holds in the rocks with powerful strikes of her hooves, sometimes using them to climb vertically or even at acute angles to shorten the journey. Zecora bit her lip and tightened her hold on the rope when Luna attempted these stunts, but even with her wound, Luna seemed to be doing as well as ever.

Whenever she or her companion needed a moment to rest or plan the route, Luna waved one of her legs and used her magical aura to pull out sections of rock firm enough to stand upon. She also risked several short teleportation jumps. She figured that she easily had enough power to cross the whole mountain with a single spell, but doing so without sight of her destination and without the ability to fly would be suicidal. But she neglected to tell her friend about the spell beforehand, and so Zecora was caused a great deal of consternation when the rope first went slack.

The “griffon” still had her concerns even after the explanation, so she continued to insist on the method, but now it was more for her own reasons than Luna's. The extreme height did not bother Princess Luna much, since she still had the instincts of a natural-born flier, even if she didn't currently have the ability. Zecora, however, was only a tourist, and seeing the plateau from which they had started this climb vanish into the darkness filled her with vertigo. She tried to keep her need for perches under control using various active meditation techniques that had served her well during her decades of familiarity with fear. She carefully and randomly controlled her breaths, kept various portions of her body perfectly still, and counted uncommon patterns of numbers in her mind. The terror remained with her, but now it was a spectator rather than a master, allowing her to focus on efficiently managing the hooks so that they could move faster.

The Princess complained that the rope was only slowing her down, but Zecora cited vague, unknown dangers as her reason. Luna did not bother arguing; she just let it go and continued to throw her mind and body at the challenge before her. Her muscles strained and the shine of her horn grew brighter. The sweat on her skin and hair was refreshing. The huge rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins filled her with vigor. With only a few more leaps to go before reaching the top of the valley where Oracle's cave would be, Luna began to grin. She did not even notice that in the last steps, she had completely yanked the hook out of the cliff-face, and had dragged a startled Zecora along with it. Striking a triumphant pose, she finally surveyed her destination. Zecora flew into position next to her and did the same, but first turned to ask Luna why her jaw was gaping.

“I.” The cave was still there, a huge black hole at the other end of the valley. The valley itself, however, had been dug even bigger, and not by a natural force. It was huge, and it was home to a veritable city of canvas tents, wooden carts, and hundreds of bodies moving between them even in these pre-dawn hours. “What.” To the right, what had been, one thousand years ago, an impenetrable wall of spiky crags, had become a smooth stone road which sloped gently down into the frontier of Andalusia. “What the.” Massive poles were erected on each side of the road, and a huge canvas banner was spread between them, on which a sign had been painted.

WELCOME TO THE LOST VALLEY! THE WISDOM OF THE AGES AWAITS!

All sacrifices are final, but 100% satisfaction with prophecies is guaranteed or your money back.

“What in the hay is this!?” Luna bellowed, causing hundreds of heads to turn toward her simultaneously.

“My, that is a lot of eyes,” Zecora whispered. “So much for your disguise.”