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Guiding Light

by archonix

Chapter 8: Behold the Dawn

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Behold the Dawn

Fires burned in every hearth across Canterlot, choking the air with a thick pall of smoke that glowed a sickly yellow in the reflected light of thousands of torches, as the city's inhabitant tried to stave off the chill of night. The warm wind that had prevented a terminal descent into winter had finally failed, diverted by an enormous cyclone that had swirled over the distant horizon before the Pegasus weather teams could stop it.

Slivers of ice ran in the city's many rivers, a harbinger of the coming cold. Even within the depths of the castle of Canterlot the scent of snow was strong in the air, despite the oily stink of burning candles and torches fixed to every available surface. Those ponies crowding the great halls and passages of the castle were bundled up against the bone-chilling cold, even in spite of the great fires roaring in every available room. The entire palace, though festooned with light, shivered in the freezing night.

Maybe, Twilight thought, it would serve as a reminder of the trials their ancestors had endured before the founding of Equestria. Perhaps even now the Windigoes were gathering outside the castle to freeze the whole world. She could see her breath as she chuckled at the thought.

The corridor between her temporary guest quarters and the royal apartments had become very familiar over the last couple of days, and it was that same corridor she walked again this morning, for another probably futile session with the Princess. There were few windows here which meant that the majority of the space was constantly lit anyway, and the sheer number of candles seemed to keep out the worst of the frosty air. Nevertheless she was still wrapped up in a thick scarf, with a woollen tunic beneath her robes. It itched dreadfully, though she had little choice but to tolerate it.

"What a way to see out the end of the world," she muttered as she drew level with the guards. One of them, a pegasus with a face that spoke of too many brawls and not enough quiet nights, laughed and bounced his head. The other just looked snooty, probably unable to appreciate the humour. They were always the same pair on the morning shift, two of the Solar Guard's most loyal and reliable stallions. Often they were accompanied by Commander Sure Stride, who lounged away in a corner of the broad open space before Cel—De Raptura's apartments, presumably taking advantage of the warmth.

The guards saluted. Sure Stride fell in step beside Twilight as she made her way past. His response to her quizzical glance was the merest hint of a shrug and nothing else. She put it aside as a problem to deal with later and walked purposefully through to the largest of the apartment's rooms.

Ostensibly it was a bedroom, but it had all the signs of a daily use far beyond that. The desk beneath the window was still littered with the half-finished notes and writings of the departed Celestia, while a small collection of cushions in the far corner spoke of intimate gatherings of Celestia's closest friends, to which Twilight had occasionally had the honour of attendance.

There was no need to knock. The door was wide open in expectation of her arrival and the Princess was stood by the window, staring at inky clouds that filled the sky, and occasionally snuffling. Twilight left Sure Stride at the door and made her way to the Princess's side.

"Good morning, Princess."

"Twilight, I've asked you not to call me that..." The alicorn turned from her vigil and, with her eyes still closed, walked across to the bed. She flopped forward onto the unmade sheets and just lay there, with her wings hanging limp at her sides. "I don't want to do this any more. I wanna go home."

"Princess—"

"My name is Ditzy," the Princess replied. She opened her mismatched eyes and swivelled them toward Twilight. "Or Derpy, or De Raptura. Anything other than Princess."

Twilight didn't speak, not wanting to antagonise her Princess. She'd tried to explain her reasoning on the subject once before, tried to describe how wrong it felt to refer to the ruler of all Equestria in such a familiar way, but it hadn't gone across particularly well. The fact that Twilight herself couldn't quite understand it probably didn't help matters.

"I'll try," she said, eventually. Ditzy, or however she identified herself, snuggled into her sheets and pulled herself into a more comfortable position. She turned to look at Twilight.

"Even so, I still don't want to do this any more."

"If you know a way to swap, I'm all ears."

The Princess shook her head and looked away across the room. Twilight took the opportunity to slip out of her robe. She wanted to be as comfortable as possible for this session, and the fire was a little warmer than she'd expected.

"Well then," she said, in her best teaching voice. "Let's recap. You have the same apparent magical reserves as the former Princesses, you have the apparent ability to manipulate the celestial sphere as already proven, but only on some subconscious level. You have no conscious control over your magic and have yet to demonstrate any sort of ability, despite the power within you. With me so far?"

The Princess nodded. Twilight took a step back.

"What we have in you is a neophyte. What we need," she said with a flourish toward the windows. "Is the sun."

She turned and stared at the sky, but the window remained resolutely, disappointingly dark. "Huh. I guess we can rule out the use of dramatic reveals as a means of stimulating magical ability. Maybe I should ask Rainbow Dash to help..."

"Twilight, I can't do it. We've tried, remember? Even if I could do this magic you want from me, how can I move something when I don't know where it is?"

"The magic the ancient Unicorns used to move the sun actually acted on the planet," Twilight said, tapping her chin as she thought. "Or more accurately it acted a set of magnetogravitic resonance nodes situated in space around the planet, that acted to shift our local space-time matrix and adjust the apparent position of the sun and the actual position of the moon. They didn't call it that, but that's essentially what it was."

The Princess stared at her, as if that would somehow grant comprehension from the mass of jargon. "Just like that?"

"It used a simple form of telekinesis tuned to manipulate an area of space in a very efficient way. It only needed a group of unicorns because of the power requirements, but an alicorn by herself should be able to more than match that need."

Twilight started to pace around the bed, lost in thought as she tried to calculate the steps necessary to move the sun around the sky. She'd quickly considered and rejected an attempt to attune herself to the Princess's aura in order to wield her power as too liable to cause a resonance cascade and suck the power right out of both of them, which had left only two options: either Twilight and a group of unicorns could try and move the sun, or the Princess could learn the spells. She'd opted for the latter purely to avoid having to address the political problems of the former. Not that it had stopped others from trying...

"I know of at least two attempts to recreate the cabals necessary to raise the sun and they've both failed. They used the spells exactly as described and still failed. It should just work, which implies that the Princesses stopped using it because it no longer does." Twilight stopped pacing and turned to stare at the window once again. "But if the Princesses didn't use the old magic, why didn't they leave a record of the spells they created to replace it?"

"Military secrets," Sure Stride piped up from his post by the door. Twilight and the Princess both looked at him in surprise at the interruption. "They never expected to die, and they wanted to be sure no foreign power would wrest control of the sun from them. It's a pretty good way to prevent a coup as well."

Twilight resumed pacing as she pondered the new idea. It was intriguing, but she'd not be able to think of her Celestia as such a conniving manipulator. Then again, she wouldn't exactly telegraph the fact if it were true.

"I don't know," she replied after another circuit of the room. "I've been with the Princess a few times when she raised the sun. I couldn't see how she did it and I'm extremely skilled with magic."

"Humble too," Sure Stride shot back. He grinned at Twilight's shocked glare and winked. "If not a secret spell, then what? Some sort of artefact?"

"No artefact could last for thousands of years without being seen, and its maintenance requirements would grow exponentially after a few centuries."

"Perhaps they just pretended." Twilight's only response was to point out of the window. Sure Stride shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Just thinking outside the box, ma'am. The only ponies who could tell us how to do it are the Princesses themselves, and they're hardly in any position to help us."

"Sure Stride, I really don't appreciate—"

"I think..." The Princess coughed and looked down at the sheets. "I think I might know how."

Sure Stride straightened up and took a step forward. At the same time Twilight turned to face her ruler, one eyebrow raised. Her stomach and jaw both tightened. "What?"

"I think I might know how to raise the sun."

"You what?"

The Princess stepped from her bed with a heavy hoof, refusing to answer straight away. She walked to the windows and looked up at the sky again. "The day I made everything dark, I went somewhere, inside my head. It... the sun was right there. I grabbed hold of it, and next thing I know it's dark outside and I'm in bed with a headache the size of Manehattan."

"So go back!"

"I did." She bowed her head. Her horn scraped against the window, leaving a narrow scratch in the glass, but she didn't seem to notice, or care. "It wasn't there any more."

Twilight's jaw worked as she tried to think of a suitable response. None was forthcoming. She flopped onto her haunches and took a breath as the magnitude of what she'd heard finally sank in. A glance at Sure Stride confirmed that she hadn't imagined it. He stared at the Princess with narrowed eyes, one forehoof tapping very slowly against the floor.

"It has to be there... the sun doesn't just disappear."

"After the last few days, Lady Twilight, I would believe it." Sure Stride sat down next to her. She hadn't even heard him walking over. "Princess... De Raptura, are you sure you couldn't find it?"

"I looked everywhere. I think. It's a weird sort of place."

"Show me," Twilight demanded.

"What?"

"Ma'am? You're talking about something inside her head."

In answer, Twilight's horn lit and glowed bright, almost white, as magic streamed around her. She smiled a bitter, empty smile. "I've travelled far stranger places, Commander."

She turned to the Princess and tilted her horn forward. The alicorn's eyes widened and almost managed to focus together on Twilight's magic as she advanced. She took a step back. Twilight's smile broadened as her magic took hold and the spell stretched out from her body. She turned to the Princess, eyes narrowing.

"Show me," she repeated.

"How... I-I don't—"

"I need your permission or the spell doesn't work," she said, putting as much force into the words as she could, no longer trying to control her patience. Her voice echoed a little when she spoke. The Princess swallowed and took another step away at the sound. "Give it to me!"

"Twilight, stop!"

Something, some compulsion behind the Princess's voice tugged at Twilight and she suddenly found herself unable to maintain the spell. It collapsed with a loud pop, filling the air with a faint tang of ozone and tin. She looked up into the Princess's eyes.

"Oh Celestia, what am I doing?"

"I was wondering the same thing," the Princess replied with a coy smile. "Though I'm sure you only had good intentions."

Twilight nodded, though refusing to meet her Princess's eyes... which wasn't such a hard thing to do, if she had to confess. "It's a spell that lets me ride in your mind. I'd hoped to use it to see this realm you described and perhaps try to understand, but—"

"You only had to ask, Twilight."

"I..." Twilight bowed her head. She didn't deserve it, this complete lack of recrimination. Even Celestia would have taken a few moments to let her stew before pronouncing forgiveness. "Princess, I—"

"Twilight, aside from my daughters, you're the only pony here that I trust." A cough from the door caught Derpy's ear. She inclined her head toward Sure Stride. "And the Commander, of course. I know you wouldn't hurt me. Just ask next time."

"O-Okay. May I?"

The Princess nodded. Twilight ramped up her magic, weaving the spell around her horn until it glowed like a tiny cats-cradle of light. With great care she moved her horn toward her Princess and pressed the tip against De Raptura's forehead, just below the base of her horn.

"Ready?"

The Princess assented and closed her eyes. Twilight tensed as she released her magic. After a moment, in which nothing seemed to happen, the magic began to spread and mingle with her thoughts, bringing the first hints of another's mind along with it.

Twilight had developed something of a love-hate relationship with mind magic from the day she had learned about it. The ability to ride along with the thoughts of another being, even in a most superficial way, brought her amazing new perspectives and insights into others, but it also carried significant risks, not least the nagging feeling that she'd missed some part of herself each time.

"Archmage Sparkle?"

Sure Stride's voice seemed to come from two places at once, one of the more disconcerting effects of the spell. She heard the commander pacing the room before settling into a moody silence by the door. Free of distraction again, Twilight focussed on her subject.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

—Yes

The complementary answer echoed inside her head. Twilight smiled and felt her relief mirrored back at her. She pressed forward, wrapping the spell tighter around them both.

Can you hear me now?

"Yes. I keep hearing myself as well."

—Echo!

"You're hearing your voice through my ears. It's an unavoidable side-effect of the spell," Twilight said, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. She took a deep breath as she focussed the last elements of the spell and set them in place, and heard the Princess take the same breath along with her. "Try to stay calm. This is where it gets—"

"A little weird," the Princess finished. "Why did I say that?"

We're sharing some part of our minds.

—Are you gonna see my memories?

If I do I likely won't understand them, Twilight responded. Her charge had taken to mental communication a lot faster than she'd expected. Memories aren't like books or pictures, they're more like... if you want me to see one, you have to concentrate on it really hard, then think about showing it to me and sort of wrap it up in that.

—Like mailing it?

That... that's actually a pretty good metaphor.

—I like mail.

Twilight ignored the answer, focusing her concentration of the progress of her magic. She often envisioned it as a grand web of intricate clockwork that would slowly assemble itself. A final piece slithered into place to mate up to its companions as her minds-eye watched. She smiled to herself. The spell was complete.

Open your eyes.

Magic flared briefly as the Princess's eyes opened and Twilight saw her own face. The view was... different. In her experiments she'd seen the world through several sets of eyes, and allowed others to see it through hers, but this was novel, to say the least.

"Wow." Twilight was always fascinated by seeing and hearing herself talk through another's eyes. It was like a mirror, only better.

Wait, is that a grey hair?

—I saw that! You can see out of my eyes?

How did—never mind. Yes, I can, and if I opened my eyes you'd be able to see what I see too, but it would get very confusing and—"Woah!"

The world spun as her host looked about, moving in odd directions. Twilight had always assumed that one of the Princess's eyes just didn't work, or maybe she just ignored it, but now she realised they were co-dominant, and more than capable of generating intense nausea.

How in the world can you see with these things?

A feeling of confusion flooded her mind, temporarily knocking her for a loop. Twilight felt her body shudder at the onslaught and tried to project some sort of apology back out.

"Try and control your feelings."

"Sorry..."

It's all right, Princess, you're doing fine.

—I think I prefer Derpy.

What? But I thought that was—

—They called me De Raptura because I thought it sounded pretty but it also shortens to Derpy. I like that. It's kinda sweet.

But isn't your name Ditzy?

—Yes, but I prefer Derpy right now. Anyway, name is just a name, what matters is—

Highness, we don't have time for a philosophical debate about the nature of identity! This isn't how I pictured this...

—It isn't?

You weren't supposed to hear that bit.

—Oh.

Twilight backed her form away from the Princess, keeping her own eyes shut, and carefully manoeuvred to a nearby pile of cushions. Moving around while she watched from the outside had proven to be a particularly difficult art to learn, but she was becoming quite adept at it now and even enjoyed the challenge sometimes, though the odd perspective the Princess's eyes granted her made things a little more interesting. Twilight flopped down on a pile of cushions and let out a tense breath.

"Commander, when I wake up I'm going to need a lot of tea."

"Archmage Sparkle?"

"Please, Commander Sure Stride. We'll probably both need it."

"Of course, your highness," Sure Stride replied, now granted the certainty of orders from his highest authority. He turned and strode from the room. Twilight's brow twitched. It had been the Princess giving her last few words voice, something she hadn't even thought to anticipate. Perhaps she'd miscalculated the strength of magic required.

You're doing very well, she thought, prompting a wave of cheerful affection that felt rather more intimate than she'd expected. Twilight's discomfort was strong enough to send a shiver down her physical body that she tried to suppress. The emotional connection petered out, replaced with a slow ebb of worry.

—Did I do something wrong?

No, it's just a little overwhelming.

—I can't seem to help it, Twilight. When I think of how much you've done to help me and how much you've tried to help everypony, I just feel so happy.

Twilight didn't want to argue. She returned her focus to the magic, ignoring the unusual and frankly scary view of the world that the Princess's eyes gave her. The cross-talk between their minds had started to worry her, it was almost as if they were—

—Too close? But you're lying way over there!

Princess, our—Disapproval, rejection. Twilight flinched at the sudden negative emotions. Too close. She ignored it. Our minds are very close to one another. It's like I'm standing on a beach in the middle of a huge sea-storm. If I'm not careful I could get washed away.

—Oh wow, that must be scary!

It's nothing I can't handle... Tell me more about the realm you visited. How did you get there?

—That first night, I felt like I could hear my little Muffin shouting for me, but it was inside my head. I closed my eyes and saw a light...

The world darkened as the Princess closed her eyes. For a second Twilight wondered if she'd been left behind, until a faint glowing light began to form around her.

This is different.

—It's just getting started.

Princess Celestia never told me about—

The world seemed to rush around her all at once, flinging her between vast, glowing forms of light and colour that had no describable form or purpose. It was almost like she were flying down some vast glowing canyon filled with enormous glowing streamers that spun and snapped around each other, moving in silent winds.

All of a sudden she felt herself land on something solid.

"What the—" She looked at the ground and found nothing, not a even sign of her hooves. Nevertheless she was sure she was standing on something. She could see a distant landscape of some sort, lit by a bright light that felt like the sun. "What's going on? Princess?"

—I'm still here, Twilight.

Twilight turned what appeared to be her head and was rewarded with the world moving around her. At least that still worked, but this was so far outside her experience that she wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

"I don't see you."

—I see you, Twilight. You're right in front of me. I think.

Twilight took a breath – here or there, she had no idea now – and turned a little. The light seemed to shift slightly. She caught sight of a pair of bright objects, like glowing strings of knotted energy, moving around in the distance. They seemed to see her, even recognise her as one moved toward her and the other away. Twilight watched the smaller of the pair as it drew close, glowing bright and clear against the dark sky. It seemed so familiar. She reached out, though with what limb she had no idea. The entity twisted and dodged around her, every movement one of joy and innocence as it buzzed her once, then twice, before scooting away into the distance again.

"What—"

—Dinky.

"This is... what is this place?"

—I don't know. The sun was here.

"But... wait. That was Dinky? And that with her must be Sparkler..." Twilight watched the pair twisting and turning around one another. She could almost hear the laughter of their play, though she was fairly certain both would still be asleep around now, which meant—"Dreams. She saw the 'scary mare' in her dreams, and then the sun chased her. The..." Twilight swallowed. She looked about, looked at the light shining brightly on the pseudoscape around her. "Prin—Derpy?"

—I am here.

"When I turned, I couldn't see you." She waited. For a moment she wondered if the Princess had understood the implication, and was about to try explaining when the light shifted. Twilight watched the brightness as it seemed to twist, moving out from behind her. With uncertainty plaguing her every move she turned, head and body, to face the light.

Twilight felt the facsimile of her body moving, bowing without any prompting. Before her, arrayed in the glory of the sun herself, glowing purest white and gold, the Princess stood with her wings spread across the sky. Derpy's eyes widened as they fixed on the unicorn, as if finally seeing her.

Twilight felt her mind pulled inexorably toward the light. She tried to resist, to pull herself back from the brink, but found that some part of her didn't want to fight. All she could think was how beautiful the light looked. Finally, she let herself fall. Their minds touched, and for the briefest of moments she—

Twilight's head flew back and she took a deep, shuddering breath as the spell's fail-safes kicked in and broke the link. When she opened her eyes she was in the royal bedroom again, sprawled across a pile of cushions that were bathed in the bright light of an early morning sun. A large cup of tea sat steaming before her. Twilight wrapped the tea in her aura and guzzled it down, not caring how it almost burned her tongue. She needed it.

Sated, Twilight scrambled from the soft morass toward the bed, where Celes—no, De Raptura lay curled up in a shivering ball, weeping into her wing as it covered her face

"Princess?"

Somewhere in the distance a bell began to toll, low and long, its stentorian voice echoing across the city. After a dozen or so chimes it was joined by another, and then a third. Twilight ignored the racket and crawled onto the bed, pushing her head under the Princess's wing.

"Derpy?"

"It's—so bright—" The Princess choked on her words and took a deep breath. "I was right in the m-middle and—and it..." she swallowed and opened her eyes, fixing Twilight with a piercing glare. "I saw. Everything. I felt it, b-but it's gone again, I-I can't do this! I can't!"

"You can, Pr—Derpy, you can! Just..." Twilight blinked as she began to recall the last few moments. She thrust herself from the bed and ran to the window, pressing both forehooves against the glass. Wind-driven clouds raced across a wintry pale sky as the sun hung over the horizon, shining bright and clear. Below, Twilight could hear the city celebrating, bells tolling from every tower, ponies' voices raised in triumphant cheer. "The sun! You did it, Princess! You did it!"

"I-I don't know how..."

"It doesn't matter, at least now we—"

The door crashed open as a guard and a pony Twilight recognised as a senior Professor from Celestia's School burst into the room, panting hard and heavy. They'd been running some distance. Sure Stride was upon them in moments, screaming in the guard's face to explain such a breach of security even as he tackled the Professor back toward the door.

"Commander!" Princess De Raptura hopped from her bed and flared her wings, all sign of her earlier state completely gone, aside from the drying tracks of tears matting the hair of her face. She glared down Sure Stride. The compulsion to back away was an almost physical force, one that even Twilight felt at a short remove. Commander Sure Stride swallowed, bowed low and scuttled away. The Princess turned her gaze on the Professor, who reeled momentarily at the sight of her mismatched eyes, but recovered remarkably quickly.

The Professor bowed low, her nose almost touching the ground. "Highness, forgive me, I bear grave news." She stood again slowly. A glance from the Princess dismissed the guard, another beckoned the academic further into the room. She peeked at the brightly lit sky and smiled for a moment, but whatever levity she felt disappeared behind another, more serious expression. "It's the sun."

"I can see that! I have no idea how I did it!"

"Your highness?" The Professor's ears flicked back and forth, radiating confusion. She glanced at the sun again. Twilight followed her gaze and felt her heart chill as she realised what that look meant. "The sun has been up for about ten minutes, ma'am, but..."

"But?"

"It's..." The Professor swallowed and looked down at her hooves, carefully examining the tip of each in turn. She didn't seem to want to go on. "It's not rising any more."

The Princess moved toward the window, staring directly at the sun. She didn't even narrow her eyes. "It's stuck?"

"Not stuck, ma'am. We think it might, ah, be going backwards again. The rate it's moving, we'll get perhaps five or six hours of sunlight, at most."

"That's not possible," Twilight replied. She blinked a few times as she ran over the mathematics in her head. It just wasn't possible that the sun could go backwards. Then again she'd been uttering impossible ideas for days now, what was one more? "How?"

"Gravitational atmospheric bulge, magnetodynamic interactions, thaumic-intertial resonance..." The Professor shrugged and shook her head. "Honestly ma'am, we have no idea. All we know is that the sun isn't rising."

They turned to look at the Princess. Her eyes remained fixed on the distant star.

"I felt it," she said, to nobody in particular. "Just for a moment, it felt like it was slipping away from me. Like it..." She finally lowered her head. Again her horn scratched at the window; again it left a faint groove in the glass. "I can't feel it again. I'm sorry."

She returned to the bed, ignoring the ponies arrayed around her,and crawled under the covers without another word. The Professor cleared her throat a few times and then looked at Twilight, as if she'd know what to do next, but it was Sure Stride that finally broke the silence.

"I'll deploy the guard. When that sun starts going down again... well. Riots may well be the least of our problems."

"Your family—"

"I've no time and no troops spare to collect them," the Commander replied. "They're on the other side of the city. If they've any sense they've already left for somewhere warmer." He lowered his head just a little and his jaw tightened. "I'll have your parents moved within the castle walls, if they're still here. They're right outside anyway."

"Commander, I—"

"Don't thank me, Sparkle, it's only delaying the inevitable. Whether we freeze or whether we're burned in the pyre this city is going to become when that sun sets, we're all as good as dead."

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