Cadance awakens in a classroom she recognizes from back in high school at Canterlot Academy, History of Equestria. Memories come flooding back: pep rallies, polo, studying, the fall formal, exams, prom. Quite a number of dances, now that she thinks about it. Oh, how the petty squabbles of the day seemed so important back then, who was dating whom and who was going to be voted class president or head cheerleader or the prom queen. Well, except for prom queen, she was always a lock-in for that.

In fact, that’s how she and Shining Armor started dating. She was originally planning on going to the fall formal with polo captain Buck Withers, who had asked her after a rousing victory (inadvertently aided by Shining Armor and his O & O buddies). She wanted to go with Shining Armor, not caring for Buck’s bravado, but when the shy stallion never materialized? She figured she needed to give Shining Armor a good kick in the flank, and seeing her with Buck would be just the trick.

Fortunately, it worked. Largely due to her friends’ timely intervention - and a number of distractions by his friends - she and Shining Armor ended up as Queen and King. They ended up happily ever after from that point on, with one agonizing exception: her brief engagement with Prince Blueblood. It ended as all of Celestia’s relationships had ended, a failed conception and near-banishment of the unfortunate stallion. Though she can barely think of the time without breaking into furious tears, she remains thankful that she made the disastrous attempt with Blueblood and not her precious Shiny.

And, thanks to Celestia’s tireless efforts and her sister-in-law’s deft casting, she and Shiny were finally able to succeed! She can feel her precious foal inside her, occasionally kicking, sometimes testing her wings, and rarely firing off unfocused blasts that give Cadance heartburn for the rest of the day. Yet it is a burn she cherishes, one she wouldn’t give up anything. She can’t wait for her foal to be born!

As picturesque daydreams fade from her eyes, she realizes she is not alone in the classroom. A black-robed stallion stands staring at a chalkboard filled with information from every subject under the sun, and many that aren’t: anatomical diagrams, thaumic casting charts, and geological surveys. To his right are depictions of the Elements of Harmony, interwoven and linked. To the right of that are weather patterns, subterranean pathways, and orbital mechanics of the sun and moon. To her mounting horror she realizes that the chalkboards continue to the right, seemingly endless - every time she finishes reading one there is another, filled with novel information.

And then there is a section on Mi Amore Cadenza. She frowns as she reads through facts about herself that could be verified, and others that nopony could possibly know: height and weight to an astonishingly precise number; the number of hairs on her coat, her tail, her mane; how many sperm have been ejaculated into her (TMI!); how many breaths she has taken, how many she has left - though that number is (thankfully?) shaded out. With a sense of dread she notices the ‘breaths taken’ number continues to increment. What kind of being could possibly compile all this?

“What,” the stallion asks, breaking her out of her thoughts by snapping a thin rod against an intricate drawing of a funny-looking pony, “is this?”

Cadance squints, not because it helps her perfect eyesight, but because it seems the right thing to do. “A horse,” she says confidently, feeling like she is in the Advanced Pharmacology class taught by the ruthless Professor Flintheart. “A precursor to the Equestrian race.”

“Not ‘a’ precursor. The precursor,” the stallion corrects. He has not turned to face Cadance, head shrouded by a hood. “From which all pony breeds were uplifted by Harmony.” Without moving a muscle - or any hint of magic - three ponies split away from the drawing, sliding across the chalkboard as though they are made from light instead of chalk. One grows a horn, another an extra set of limbs along the back, the third seemingly unchanged. The proportions shift, shrinking, though the head stays roughly the same size.

“Should I be taking notes?” Cadance asks, tongue in cheek. Although, if what he is saying is true, it would certainly settle a number of debates in the archeological and biological community.

“It is only the most important exam of your life,” he answers, deathly serious.

Cadance grimaces. She hopes she can trust her memory, not seeing anything to write with or on.

“Tell me,” he continues, snapping the rod against the original horse and then the three pony breeds. Rather than Anatomy, the topic is now Philosophy, double underlined. “What is the difference between this and these?”

“Magic,” Cadance says simply.

He turns to face her. Under the hood is completely black, with two darker spots that might be eyes boring into her. It might be terrifying if ol’ Flinty hadn’t pulled the same trick from time to time. “Elaborate.”

“Magic is in all things,” Cadance recites, almost as a mantra. “The infusion of so much thaumic potential in ponies positively influences their intellect, their abilities, even their personality. It’s especially evident in their cutie mark, which helps define their purpose in the world. In short, the first is an animal, capable of little more than basic instinct, while the second is a free-willed intelligent creature molded in Harmony’s image, who gave us this gift.”

The stallion nods, seemingly pleased with her response. Cadance can’t help but feel elated, her head high and cock-sure. He moves on to Elementary Thaumics, a notoriously difficult branch of magic. “And this?”

Cadance unconsciously gulps as she studies the complex diagram. It is a spell, that much is obvious, but a deviously designed one, notated in an unusual fashion. That sense of dread returns, as the spell feels oddly familiar. It takes her some time - thaumics was never her specialty, being a pegasus - to break it down into chunks she can understand. Yet the pieces come together quickly, like a puzzle she’s solved before.

Her hooves tremble as she comprehends the spell’s nefarious purpose. “It is dark magic,” she admits in a whisper, struggling to keep her voice even. “It strips a pony not only of her magic, but also of her self, her very essence. Irreparably.”

The topic switches to Law. The stallion cocks his head to the side slightly. “Could one consent for this spell to be cast on them?”

“It is impossible to give consent to this spell,” Cadance replies, voice flat, thrusting her emotions deep inside. It is the only way she can keep from breaking down and crying at the loss such a spell would entail. “The request would sufficiently indicate that the pony is not in a state of mind to give consent, similar to suicide.”

The stallion’s soft voice thunders in her ears. “And what would the punishment be for casting this spell on another pony?”

“Dehornment and banishment,” Cadance states immediately. Keeping herself dispassionately focused solely on the question helps, her mind still roiling under the surface, but she can’t quite put her hoof on why. “If not beheading.”

“Yes,” the stallion agrees. “Any spell so contrary to Harmony’s design deserves such a punishment.”

Suddenly, Cadance realizes why the spell seems so familiar. Twilight cast a modified version just before her foal was conceived, siphoning away the ‘unicorn’ aspects and allowing her ‘alicorn’ to take full control. Not only would her sister-in-law be culpable for casting it, but so would her Shiny, for conspiring with them!

“It cannot,” she stammers, aghast at the ramifications of her actions. “We did not… We thought we were following Her will! Repurposing evil for good, overcoming a technical limitation!”

“It is by grace that the foal inside you is just that, a foal, and not a soulless abomination!” The stallion seems to grow, towering over her, or maybe that’s just from her pupils shrinking to pinpoints, unable to focus on anything else. “Did you not think to consider why there are no alicorn foals, why this ‘technical limitation’ existed in the first place?”

Cadance cannot answer, not without speculating about how the different breeds do not actually ‘interbreed’, aside from traits such as color, size, and thaumic specialization. There are no half-unicorn, half-pegasi, for instance, and alicorns are indisputably composed of all three.

“Not for that reason,” the stallion answers, even though Cadance didn’t utter a word. “Becoming an immortal alicorn is reserved for those who have proven their resolve, their willingness to follow Harmony, and that will dedicate their lives to Her cause! A foal cannot consent to such a life, cannot make that sort of choice, without risking them becoming an agent of Chaos! Could a clearer message than the pain and loss you endured have been sent?”

“Then why?” Cadance pleads. “Why give alicorns such a strong desire to become dams? Why make us fall in love at all, if it is contrary to Her will?”

“Does the cloud say to the pegasus, ‘put me there’ or the seed to the earth pony, ‘plant me here’? Yet you wish to know why?” The stallion spins, whipping the stick like a bolt of lightning. It impacts with the crash of thunder, six words filling every chalkboard. “What is the meaning of life?”

“To fulfill our cutie marks,” Cadance states, hoping against hope she is correct. “To make friends, to love, to follow Harmony!”

“To follow Harmony’s will?” the stallion demands, turning to face her. His eyes burn with passion, even shrouded in darkness. “Or to follow your will?”

Cadance realizes there is no right answer. On one hoof, she knows she should say to follow Harmony’s will. But if doing so entails giving up her foal? How can she possibly choose between those two options? The only way would be if Harmony’s will somehow involves keeping her foal alive…

She bows low, thrusting her horn against the floor. She stretches her hooves in front of her as far as they will go, her neck exposed, as penitent and supplicating as she can be.

“Please,” she implores. “Please, I beg you, hold me fully responsible! Take my life if you must, but do not blame Twilight Sparkle or Shining Armor for what I convinced them to do! And, should Harmony find it in Her heart to forgive Her humble servant, I will teach my foal, instruct her in all of Harmony’s ways!”

“So quick to sacrifice yourself,” the stallion muses. “Should they not be held accountable for their actions? Should they not face the punishment you yourself declared?”

“Forgive them,” Cadance pleads. “They did not know that what they were doing was wrong. But let Harmony’s will be done, not mine.”

The stallion stays silent, long enough for Cadance to worry.

“Very well,” he finally states. “We are in accord.”

Cadance cannot believe it. She stares at the stallion as the light around her slowly fades, until the only thing she can make out are two dark holes in a sea of black. She wonders what her future holds, and - perhaps more importantly - what her foal’s future holds.

But in the immediate, how will she possibly tell Shining Armor and Twilight Sparkle that what they did, this wonderful thing they created, goes against Harmony’s design?

Cadance awakens back in the stadium. She slowly gets to her hooves, her husband and her sister getting to their hooves while the other Princesses and Doug remain laying down.

Was that a dream? A portent of things to come? …A test?

…If it was a test, did she pass?

Next Chapter: Ch. 196 - Pitch Darkness Estimated time remaining: 54 Minutes