The cave turns out to be considerably deeper than Applebaum first thought, a whole complex of tunnels both natural and horn-carved. She and Totem stay on opposite sides of Radiant Hope when they aren’t single file, Tempest Shadow right behind, trusting her hornlight to guide them through the often narrow and twisting passages. Flickering shadows triple their numbers when the Kirin behind and in front are in view, along with a certain Silhouette Gloom of the Sundown Lands, whoever that is. She keeps calm throughout. There aren’t enough splits that they’d get lost in the dark, and she has material that will readily turn into a makeshift torch.

During the walk, she steals glances at Tempest Shadow. The unicorn just stares back, as if asking ‘what is the point in looking at me?’ and then goes back to placing one hoof in front of the other. Worry eats at her gut; she hopes, she knows, she tells herself that the unicorn is going to be okay. Right? This is all going to work out. They’re going to find the foal’s breath, whatever that is, and she’ll get the cure. Or they’re going to go and find that bell, and Radiant Hope will be able to heal Tempest’s horn and break the curse.

But until then? Their driving force seems gone, and with it their zealous protector. Will she still fight, or is she liable to not care as she gets eaten? The thought sends a shiver down Applebaum’s spine. Especially the part that she might be the one making the important decisions. But there is also a sense of excitement, of anticipation, that it will finally be her making those decisions instead of always following the older ponies. Especially if she gets her hooves on that bell and the magic inside.

“Can you tell me any more about the cure?” Radiant Hope asks during a moment where the tunnel is wide enough.

“Foals breath?” Autumn Blaze grimaces. “I searched all over for the blue and white flowers, but I only ever found the one patch I fell into. Oh, we’re here!”

The tunnel opens up to a larger room, the ceiling barely illuminated by their horns. There is enough space for everypony and everykirin to gather together, and soon they fill the room. Applebaum spots a few crude paintings on the stone wall. Her curiosity overrides her compulsion to find out more about Gusty the Great, something she’s always had a problem with when she delves with the rest of Dr. C’s crew.

“What’s this?” she asks as she hobbles over. In the center is a splotchy circle covered in patches of brown and blue and green and white. If she squints just right it might be Equus, if somecreature has only a passing whimsy as to what the continents are shaped like. Orbiting on opposite sides are a pair of smaller circles, one a soft yellow and the other a dark pitch, with squiggly lines hinting at their circular motion. Tiny flecks of gold stud the remaining landscape.

“This is our record of the past!” Autumn Blaze motions to a few more paintings farther down, impossible to make out in the gloom. “We recorded our stories on stone. A good choice, too! Oh, wait, I didn’t tell you about that part, did I? Because, you see, before we all stepped into the Stream of Silence we all got super angry with each other and turned into Niriks and before we knew it our entire village lay in flaming ruins!”

The wide, bright smile juxtaposes the unsettling news. Applebaum half expects Tempest Shadow to cut in with a remark like ‘we don’t care about your life story’, except the unicorn just stands there. She’s paying attention, at least, just not reacting nor seeming to care. Well, if it’s up to her? She knows Storied Pages will appreciate any stories that she brings home, old Dig Root as well.

Applebaum asks, “So, how do ya tell each other your stories if ya can’t speak? Ah mean, this is pretty an’ all,” she motions at the crude depiction of the planet, “but it don’t really convey all that much. Know what Ah mean?”

“It does lack a certain splendor,” Autumn Blaze muses, tracing her green-shod hoof over the lines of motion, first the crescent of a wing, then the sharp point of a horn. Applebaum spies a similar pattern on the pitch side. “The captivating tales, imparted at a dam’s teat and on starry nights and during moments of pain and loss. They help guide us weary travelers through life’s infinite possibilities, and unite us in times of strife, and also remind us that just as yesterday is different than today so too might tomorrow bring challenges that require each, no, all of our diverse talents to overcome!”

Applebaum finds herself captivated at Autumn Blaze’s tale, just like the Kirin said. She sits down, not minding the cold stone or settled dust of who-knows-what used to live here.

Autumn Blaze takes in a deep, stirring breath, like she’s going to continue with a rousing fervor, just to let it all out in one gargantuan sigh. “But we had to give them up, too.”

The Kirin leader shakes her head before making a complex series of gestures, like she is chopping something up and then separating it into multiple piles.

“Err, what are ya sayin’?” Applebaum asks, confused at the motions.

“Okay, Rain Shine,” Autumn Blaze attempts, staring down the large Kirin with a certain intensity. “Are you hungry and chopping up vegetables?” Rain Shine shakes her head. “Somekirin trapped in a well?” No response, just a hard stare, even with Autumn Blaze’s grin. “Difference breeds disagreement, which leads to disharmony?”

Rain Shine makes a rising motion with her hooves, then they explode apart and slowly drift downward. Then she points at Applebaum’s cutie mark of an exploding apple, then at Tempest Shadow.

“Destruction and disaster?” Applebaum frowns. “That don’t always happen when ya disagree. An’ how can ya disagree about a story?”

“Well, we have different versions,” Autumn Blaze explains. “You know, since everykirin tells it differently.”

A burnt-brown Kirin shakes her head, then poofs out her light green mane, taps her brown hooves against each other and her bright red horn.

Applebaum rubs at her own head. “Can’t ya write it down or somethin’?”

She’s not sure where they got the paper from, but soon everykirin has a roll of parchment and a stick of charcoal. <Not different> the paper states. <Emphasizing certain aspects>

“That’s true, Fern Flare,” Autumn Blaze concedes. “You value truth, while Rain Shine wanted us to get along. And just as our horns have multiple points, so too can a story have multiple meanings. Or interpretations. Or explications.”

“Aren’t those just synonyms?” Totem states.

Autumn Blaze twists her hoof back and forth. “Kinda? But so often the nuance matters. Ooh, that’s a fun word I haven’t said in a wile! While. It’s pro-nunced ‘while’.”

“So what’s this one about?” Applebaum asks. “Your interpretation.”

“Ooh, it’s one of my favorites, too.” Autumn Blaze motions first to the planet. “In the beginning, all was chaos.” A flurry of scratching later and three notes are thrust at the speaking Kirin. She eagerly grabs them, reading off, “Potential. Discord. Nothing.”

She nods, even though Applebaum thinks those are contradictory. How can you have nothing and chaos?

“Exactly! And then, ORDER-“ the word booms in the cavern “-comes along and separates the sea from the sky and the grass from the ground.” Autumn Blaze taps on the planet with each word, on the splotches of blue and white and green and brown. “And she made equines, and gave them dominion over the land and sky and heavens above. But her hoof was not the only one at play, for chaos does not stay idle.”

Another series of notes pass forward as the Kirin stomp their hooves in a monotone manner. It seems automatic, ingrained, rather than the spontaneous cheer at a concert.

“Yes,” Autumn Blaze answers with brief glances at the notes. “Maybe chaos does have a champion of its own. Maybe there are hundreds of thousands of agents of chaos.”

Applebaum frowns. “Ya mean, like, Discord? Or all the other species?” Her frown deepens. “An’ the ponies have Harmony on their side? That don’t sound right.”

“She’s right about the earth ponies and pegasi and unicorns, though,” Totem argues.

“But that makes it sound like harmony is only for ponies,” Applebaum argues back, to the discomfort of the kirin. “That can’t be right!”

“Any of these could work, or all of them,” Autumn Blaze explains, dismissing the issue by carrying on. “ORDER-” another boom “-sees how her ponies struggle, beset at every turn by the chaos surrounding them and reigning over them. So she elevates two sisters above all else, to embody and exemplify her ideals.”

“Celestia and Luna,” Applebaum mutters. <To bring forth an everlasting peace> <To restore balance> <To ossify and stagnate>

Autumn Blaze nods, again to all of the suggestions. “ORDER grants them dominion over the sun and moon, an eternal chase through the heavens. Never to meet, perhaps never to see each other again, as the sun and moon would always be at opposite ends of the world.”

Tears glisten in the hornlight as Applebaum sniffs. “That’s horrible.”

“And she gave them the stars,” Autumn Blaze continues, hoof splaying across the stony heavens over the pinpricks of gold, “to place and shift as they willed.” <They merely refract the light> “But there would only be one sun in the heavens, else the earth and the sea and the sky would be unable to withstand their blaze. And one moon at night, else all the other stars would fade to nothing.”

Applebaum’s eyes slowly grow wide at the realization. Do Celestia and Luna know this? But it’s only a story…

Again notes come flooding in, most minor quibbles about word choices. But one stands out: <She conspired with The Void to fill the heavens>

“And this worked, for a time.” Autumn Blaze’s tone grows ominous. “But one day the sun moved a little faster, or perhaps the moon a little slower. And the sun caught the moon and devoured her.”

“No,” Applebaum utters, barely audible over the many rustles. <It happened over years> <A trap gone awry> <A desire for the past> <A desire for companionship> <For love>

“No!” she repeats, louder. “Celestia didn’t devour her Sister! She defended Equestria against the Nightmare!” She looks to her companions for support. “Tell her that ain’t what happened!”

“Regardless of her reasons why,” Autumn Blaze continues despite Totem and Radiant Hope’s nods, “this was not what ORDER intended. So…”

She ambles over to another painting, this one of a wavy horned kirin - the same as that depicted in the Gusty the Great storybook - standing atop a circular ring of stones. High above the stone circle is the Celestial crest, done in dull yellows and oranges, while below are a pair of curved horns in white. Autumn Blaze taps her hoof on the pair of horns. “...She sent another. grgr.”

“G-R-G-R?” Applebaum spells out as Autumn Blaze did. It takes her but a moment to puzzle it out. “Ya mean, Grogar?” The Necromancer! Another clue!

“Gargler?” Totem tries, one eye squinting. “Gurgler? Gargoyler?”

“Gorger,” Radiant Hope adds, grinning. “Great starts with G-R. Gustier the Great!”

“Some say,” Autumn Blaze answers, even as notes claim, <We don’t know> <We shouldn’t try to guess> <It doesn’t matter> <You shouldn’t speak it aloud>. One Kirin clamps her hooves over her ears at the mention of the Necromancer’s name. “There are other possibilities. But what is more important is what he intended. ORDER saw the chaos in the world, and despised it. Through him she would impose an eternal order, one that would never fail to adhere to her intentions.”

<A world devoid of choices> <A dead world> <We shouldn’t be afraid to speak his name>

Two Kirin wordlessly argue, one shaking her head with hooves blocking her ears and eyes screwed shut as the other thrusts a paper in her face. All over the cavern things begin heating up, and soon it becomes uncomfortably warm.

“But that didn’t happen,” Applebaum states, terrified at the implications. Could Order, or Harmony, really do that?!

“It did. Aaand it didn’t.” Autumn Blaze motions at Gusty the Great. “We Kirin know the importance of keeping things balanced. Or, at least, we used to. To get plants to grow, it needs to rain, and that releases the rainbows we love to look upon. Or for a candle to glow, it needs to burn, giving us a light against the darkness. That sometimes things don’t go your way; the solution is not to give up your laughter in order to avoid a little pain.” She sighs as the scribbling becomes furious, or at least as furious as it can get with dull expressions all around. She doesn’t bother reading the notes this time. “A lesson my people never learned.”

“But what happened with Gusty the Great?” Applebaum shouts above the din of stomping hooves and papers waving at Autumn Blaze. When they can’t get her attention they turn on each other, each arguing the efficacy and correctness of Gusty, of Celestia, and of Autumn Blaze.

“She pleaded her case to Princess Celestia. At first, the alicorn did not answer her plea, so she went alone to stop grgr’s terrible advance. She stalled him here.” Autumn Blaze taps the ring of stone, ignoring the building tension around her.

“I know those stones,” Totem loudly whispers to Applebaum.

“Ponehenge,” she whispers back, mind racing. She can feel her heart hammering against her chest; for mutes, the Kirin can sure make a lot of noise when they’re angry. It’s a distressing sound, void of words and full of rude gestures.

They can barely make out Autumn Blaze as the Kirin stop writing things down and resort to their uninterpretable hoof signs. “And it was there that Celestia came to her aid, having decided after much meditation that there must be another way. Together they trapped his power in a specially designed bell. They interred him and his forces deep underground. Likewise, they sealed the bell as far and high away as they could, protecting it with spells against all intruders.”

A paper from Rain Shine slaps Autumn Blaze in the face, forcing her to read it. “You should not tell them these things.” She crumples it up, scowling. “Why not? It’s no more than anykirin else could tell them. It’s not like they’re secrets.”

“Why not make it undetectable?” Totem asks, looking up at the rock ceiling. “And put it somewhere random in the sky?”

It’s possibly the worst time to have an argument, and on such a trivial point, but Applebaum retorts, “Obviously she wants access to it later on, if’n she needs it.” It comes out harsher than she means. “An’ if’n it’s detectable to her, it’s gonna be detectable to somepony else, too. So ya gotta put it someplace safe. Someplace remote.” But where would that be?

“Maybe she-” Totem starts, cut off when a blue aura constricts around their throats. It forces their limbs to their sides and their barrels to the ground, unable to raise their hooves to their ears as a thunderclap reverberates the room.

<E> <N> <O> <U> <G> <H> <!>

Each letter fills a page. Rain Shine’s horn blazes, along with three other Kirin helping her subdue everycreature else. She slashes words on the backs of the paper. <Speaking no hate was not enough. We must also hear no hate and see no hate!>

If there was bedlam before, it’s nothing to the battle lines drawn now. Half the Kirin side with Rain Shine, the other half against, a dozen magical shades fighting for dominance.

“Hurry!” urges Radiant Hope as her horn lifts the bonds from the four ponies. She points deeper into the tunnels, as the Kirin are completely blocking the entrance. “That way!”

So they scamper, away from the action, Tempest Shadow’s sedate pace nearly leaving her behind. Single chambers blur by, no other branches, and all seems lost when they come to a dead end. Despair sets in, a sense of panic that they would need to return through the mob of Kirin, to lose sight and sound and speech, until Applebaum’s cutie mark pings that the wall is not as solid as it seems.

She pushes, and the wall rolls away, leaving them stumbling half-blind from the bright sun into a bed of blue and white flowers.

Next Chapter: Ch. 108 - Might in All Forms, Part One* Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 54 Minutes