Weatherstorm bit daintily into another apple dumpling. The taste was quite exquisite; the sugary-sweetness of the apple complimented the savoury dough like a dream, lightly fried to perfection. The Pegasus opened his eyes and took another corner off the side. Fabulous.

There was quite a spread available for the occasion: Apple pies, Apple fritters, Apple dumplings, Apple crisps, Apple crumbles, Dutch apple pies, candied apples on sticks, Apple turnover, and Apple cobblers were but a few of the mouthwatering morsels lining the buffet table. Weatherstorm made a mental note to congratulate the local farmer Applejack on a fine job: compliments to the chef, because these locally baked goods were quite simply wonderful.

The Pegasus excused himself and reached an eager hoof past a snobbish mare whose hat was bigger than her head. ‘Not bigger than her ego, though...’

“Excuse me, madam.” The mare swivelled around from her group, giving him a look of disgust when she saw his press badge.

With a snorting scoff, she turned back to her rich associates. “I say, they must be allowing any old pony off the street in!” Her voice was oozing with thick Canterlot pride.

Weatherstorm had a million and one comebacks armed and at his disposal, but he held his tongue. He had no time for their type. “May I please pass, madam? I really must try another of the hors d’oeuvres.”

The unicorn was obviously itching for a fight with the ‘common types,’ because when she heard his civil tone she pouted, huffed, and trotted away, her head held high. The rest of the pompous clique followed. Weatherstorm marked that down as a victory. The journalist claimed his prize: a sugar cube. Sure, they may have paled into insignificance amongst the other fine foods such as the equally scrumptious glazed figs topped with mascarpone and wrapped with prosciutto, or the feta cheese-adorned garlic filled bruschettas, but he liked them all the same. Maybe it was the pure simplicity of the treats that tickled his taste buds, but the melt-in-your-mouth cube was like heaven had taken up residence in his tongue.

In his bliss, he wasn’t aware that he had other company. “Hey Weatherstorm.” The voice was that of a stallion, from somewhere behind him. The voice was a little deeper than the Pegasus’, but smooth and bubbly, somehow undertoned with a hint of sadness.

Without turning around, Weatherstorm reached for a second sugar lump. “Good evening, Cananor. How did the court case fare? Well, I hope...”

The unicorn joined him at the buffet table. “Keep hoping. I almost had it this time...”

The journalist looked at his sugar cube, then to his less than overjoyed friend. The poor stallion looked like he had had a rough day. “Here,” he finally concluded that his friend needed it more than he did. “Have a little morsel of happiness, my friend.” He stretched out his left wing, and resting on it was his untouched snack.

Cananor levitated the cube off of the Pegasus’ wing and gulped it down in one bite. It didn’t make him feel any better. Hopefully a sugar rush would kick in before long, which would lift his spirits for a bit, at least.

Weatherstorm gave him a horrified look. “You’re not supposed to just eat the thing in one go!” He swiped another from the table, before gently plopping the sweet on his tongue. “To fully appreciate the full palate of flavours, one must allow the cube to slowly melt.” He sucked the sugar lump a few more times. “Like so. If you want to brutally devour some confectionary, I suggest you ingest...” his light blue eyes, magnified behind his square rimmed spectacles, scanned over the hundreds of foods on the table. “A donut.”

The unicorn comically slapped the sprinkled pastry from his hoof. “Ew! I’ve had enough of donuts for one lifetime, thanks.”

Weatherstorm scowled first at Cananor, then at his empty hoof. “That was uncalled for. Besides, I believe you might be exaggerating. Surely it didn’t go THAT badly, did it?”

Cananor laughed; a dry, humourless chuckle, most unlike himself. “Where do I begin? My briefcase exploded and nearly took out everypony in the room...” he began to count each catastrophe off on his hoof. “I assaulted the judge with a pair of underwear, I choked on a donut, emptied the contents of my stomach all over the courtroom, and didn’t get paid a single bit. It could have gone better.”

“I retract my previous statement.” The Pegasus gave him a warm, friendly smile. “I only wish I had been there myself, that I may have documented the whole sordid incident for the Express. Stories like that sell papers like hotcakes.”

Cananor leaned over the table to grab a Sugarcube corner home baked cupcake, nearly knocking over a jug of fine wine. A few heads turned as they heard the china rattle, before ‘tsking’ and carrying on with their ‘important’ conversations. Weatherstorm could tell that the unicorn was drained, both mentally and physically, when he couldn’t even find it in himself to levitate a cupcake.

The lawyer ate the cupcake in a few bites. Weatherstorm dusted a few crumbs off his friend’s beige muzzle with his feathered wing. “At least TRY to eat like a civilized pony...”

“Where were you, anyway?” Cananor spluttered in-between mouthfuls. A few stray pieces of chewed up cupcake landed at the Pegasus’ hooves, much to his disgust. “I thought...” he gulped. “...You were going to come with me.”

Weatherstorm nonchalantly shrugged and sampled the caviar. “I was relocating a grand piano from the exterior to the interior of the building.”

Not surprisingly, this was met by raised eyebrows. “Any reason why, or did you just feel like unnecessary manual labour?”

“If you must know,” The journalist removed his glasses and wiped them free of cake crumbs that had been spat at him with the back of a dinner-cloth. “I was trying to impress Miss Rarity of the Carousel Boutique with an act of bravado.”

Cananor smiled, for real this time. No matter how bad his problems could get, he was happy to hear his friend had found a mare he was interested in. “I know her!” he slipped a shrimp into his mouth and sucked it up like spaghetti, making a wet slurping noise as the tail disappeared through his puckered lips. “I get suits from there sometimes. Did your ‘act of bravado’ work?”

“Considering the fact that I’m standing mare-less by the buffet table, covered in your half eaten cake, no; it didn’t. She was gone by the time I got back.”

“Oh well, maybe that’s a good thing,” the unicorn placed an icing covered hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “If she had been there, she might have seen you crush yourself with a piano.” He looked back at the door. There were only a few ponies left waiting in line for admission, and the back of the room was full to the brim. “There sure are a lot of ponies here tonight,” he said, changing the subject. “Does nopony have anything better to do with their time?”

Weatherstorm wiped the pink icing from his shoulder. “Maybe it’s the fact that this is one of the biggest cultural and historical events in all of Equestria, and certainly a first for our humble little hamlet.” He flicked a chocolate sprinkle from his jet black, blue-streaked tail. “Aren’t you going to stay and watch the celebration with everypony else? I can get you a good space somewhere...”

Cananor waved the notion off with a swipe of his hoof. “Nah. You know I’m not in to these boring old things...”

“You work as a lawyer.” The Pegasus chirped in. “Forgive me, but is that not one of the most dull and uninteresting professions in Equestria?”

The ‘dull, uninteresting’ lawyer ignored the obvious insult. “I’m not staying here, ‘Stormy. I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, and I’m going home.”

“Your aunt will expect you to attend...”

“NO!”

He set off for the door.

“Cananor, my friend: wait!” the journalist called after him.

The unicorn stopped and sighed. “What is it?”

“Well, look.” Weatherstorm pointed past him to the door. “Everypony is nearly in. You don’t want to be the only one leaving, right before the celebration starts... do you? It’ll be incredibly awkward.”

This caught Cananor’s attention. He turned back to his companion. “Socially awkward?”

Weatherstorm nodded grimly. “The worst kind of awkwardness, or so I’ve been told.”

The unicorn seemed to juggle the outcomes of his actions for a few seconds. He certainly had been humiliated enough tonight, and the last thing he needed was drawing more attention to himself. “You’re good.”

“I’ll take that as an, ‘I’m in’, then?”

“I’m in... I guess.”

Weatherstorm gave him his sweetest smile, the dimple in his right cheek a stamp of his approval. “Excellent!” he ushered the half reluctant lawyer to the front with a gentle but firm hoof. “You can stand beside me at the front, if it pleases you. It’s hard to get a conversation out of anypony up there...”

The two arrived at the front of the hall as the last drizzle of ponies, tired yet eager, finally pattered through the doors like a dripping tap. Then the dripping stopped, and the two door guards pulled the heavy oak doors shut. The echoing thud that they made as they closed was the signal for everypony to cease their conversations, get back to their places and pay attention to the stage. The show would be starting any minute now.

As the candles were blown and the lights dimmed, Cananor didn’t really know what the hay he was doing there. All he wanted was to get home after a hard day’s work, but yet again he had allowed himself to get roped into something he wasn't at all interested in. To his left stood some older stallion in a suit, and what he would have guessed was his daughter for not the fact she was passionately nuzzling him like a schoolfilly on her first date. Obviously money was the real love of her life.

He began to feel a little nauseated just looking at the scene; either that, or the rancid donut he had ingested earlier was repeating on him. He just hoped that he could keep it down.

Weatherstorm felt a little claustrophobic. It was something he had suffered from since an early age, and although he was fine in smaller, controlled crowds, the whole populace of Ponyville was here, and ponies from a few more towns and cities besides. It was actually quite surprising how they had managed to cram so many ponies in the town hall which admittedly, wasn’t all that big. The Pegasus felt a sweat coming on, so he fanned himself with his wings, much to the annoyance of those behind him. Some of his kind had taken to hovering in place near the ceiling, an idea which the journalist was contemplating himself because the airspace was less crowded and he could get a good view of the stage. At the last minute, he voted against the idea: he had just dragged his reluctant friend over here for company and he was not going to leave the poor fellow standing by himself. He would just keep on smiling and work with what he had.

The official start of the celebration was signified when the orchestra of birds sang a sweet little fanfare, of sorts, silencing any idle chatter that floated from the back of the room. There were five of the animals, perched there on the edge of one of the upper balconies. A Pegasus mare, Fluttershy, acted as the conductor, waving her yellow hooves to and fro and the birds seemed to carry out her every action, their chirps rising and lowering to her will. Although Weatherstorm didn’t know her all that well, he knew she had a special talent with animals. She was the shy sort who kept herself to herself, and lived in a rural cottage at the edge of Everfree, or so he had been told. Regardless, the mare was in charge of music for the occasion and her symphony of birds was not a disappointment. A sign of great things to come, surely.

There was a loud, mechanical click as a stage-light was turned on, and every head in the room followed the beam of light as it traced its way down past velvet curtains to the main stage.

A lone figure cut through the darkness and into the white beam of the spotlight. She gave the front audience a quick look over, before her eyes came to Cananor. Almost surprised, the corners of her mouth curled up into a satisfied smile, silently mouthing his name with a wave.

Weatherstorm nudged his blushing friend. “Cananor, your aunt is waving at you.”

Cananor forced a smile back at his aunt but didn’t return the wave. “Yeah, I see that.”

“I am not one to tell ponies what to do, but I think she expects a wave of acknowledgement in return.”

With a sigh that said, ‘I really don’t want to be here,’ and body language that spoke volumes of, ‘Please stop embarrassing me,’ the unicorn gave a quick half-wave back. A few heads turned in his direction, mostly from the aristocrats.

Contented, Cananor’s aunt, or Mayor Mare of Ponyville to give the mare her full title, adjusted her golden spectacles and began her short introductory speech. This was Weatherstorm’s cue: he had promised to document the occasion in full, and fulfil his promise he shall. From the first spoken word until the sun is gazing down upon its subjects in the early morning sky, everything was to be recorded. He untucked his reporter’s notepad from underneath his wing and placed the quill in his mouth, before lifting himself off the ground just enough that his hind legs were not touching the ground.

“Since I’m here,” Cananor whispered as the Mayor cleared her throat. “Do you want me to at least hold the notebook for you?”

Weatherstorm, black quill in his mouth, mumbled a response, and the lawyer saw from his head shake that he was declining the offer. Whereas most unicorns found it a trivial task to write by simply levitating the quill and notepad using their magic, for the Pegasi it was a completely different matter. The most common technique was holding the quill in their mouths, the page held in their front hooves and using their wings to keep themselves upright, such as Weatherstorm was doing now. At first, his handwriting had suffered as a result of using his mouth to form words on a page, but over the years he had perfected this technique until it had become nothing but second nature to him. Weatherstorm was certainly independent, and like most journalists, determined.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” the mayor began. “As mayor of Ponyville, it is my great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

This caused a collective cheer from the audience, starting from the back of the room and making its way to the front.

Cananor found himself cheering along with them, and had no idea why. What was so great about this festival, anyway? The princess would appear, lower the moon, raise the sun, and then leave again. Bish, bash, bosh. Done and dusty. He could just tell that the whole celebration would be as dull as dull can be.

“In just a few moments,” she continued after the room had settled down. “Our town will witness the magic of the sunrise, and celebrate this, the longest day of the year!”

‘Not too long,’ thought the beige coated unicorn. ‘I don’t want this to be any more of a drag than it already is.’

“And now, it is my great honour to introduce the great ruler of our land...” All of a sudden, Cananor felt a little chill run down his spine. It wasn’t as if he were particularly cold, just a small shiver. Weatherstorm felt it too, and gave a little jolt as well. What was strange was that he was boiling hot not moments earlier, with all the body heat coming from the huddled crowds. Both penned it down to a draft coming from an open window somewhere, or in Weatherstorm’s case at least, excitement.

“The very pony who gives us the sun and the moon, each and every day...” Weatherstorm’s head was bobbing from side to side, up and down and left to right, furiously scribbling down every word she spoke.

“The good, the wise, the bringer of harmony to all of Equestria...” The mayor paused, the audience hooked on her every word and itching for more.

“Princess Celestia!”

All heads turned to one of the upper balconies, accompanied by another fanfare. Weatherstorm hadn’t even noticed Rarity up there before now: how he could have possibly missed such divine beauty? But there she was, his little snow white angel.

The journalist didn’t even really care if princess Celestia was up there or not: to him, she was royalty enough. Even doing something as uncivilized as roughly yanking a rope with her mouth became a beautiful art when it was Rarity. Did she see him down there...?

He heard everypony gasp as the velvet purple curtains swished open, most likely at their princess: but it was the unicorn that took his breath away. Dreamily, he gazed into her eyes; the way they sparkled in the glare of the spotlight, the way her eyelashes curled daintily like her magnificent manedo and her petite little nose. She was everything he looked for: not only was she stunningly beautiful, but she had a wonderful personality to boot. A lot of ponies around town talked about her behind her back: nothing serious of course, but just little things. They said she thought she was better than everypony else, that everypony else was below her and she acted like she knew it. Little rumours and such, none of which were true, for although he hadn’t had the pleasure to really get to know her better, she was one of the most humble and generous ponies he had ever met. Sure, perhaps she was a tad ‘posher‘ than most of the folks around here, but then so was he. And she treated everypony with the same respect, no matter their background or social status. Beauty is a virtue that lives as much on the inside as it does on the outside. It just so happens that Rarity was the sort of mare who was lucky enough to hold both traits.

“Well, this is interesting...” Weatherstorm barely heard Cananor over the erratic beating of his own lovestruck heart.

“Hmm...” he mumbled with the quill in his mouth, paying very little attention to what his friend was saying. “Isn’t she just?”

“Scared looking, you mean? So is everypony else! What’s going on? Isn’t the princess supposed to be here?”

That was when Weatherstorm noticed. That look of fear in her usually calm blue eyes. They were usually as deep and soothing as the ocean. Except now there was one heck of a storm brewing over that ocean, and her face was contorted in dread and confusion. It was also when the stallion noticed that they were princess-less. Rarity stood alone on the balcony, the drawn curtains that she was nervously looking behind displaying only emptiness.

Everypony in the room, panicked and fearful, turned back to their mayor for comfort and, even better, some answers.

The mayor herself looked as confused and scared as her townspeople. “Remain calm, everypony! There must be a reasonable explanation...”

Rarity returned from her royalty hunt behind the curtains a few seconds later. Her face was a deathly pale. Well, paler than usual. With her white fur, it was hard to tell. “She’s gone!”

A collective gasp followed the statement. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

The first scream came from somewhere near the middle of the crowd. Startled, Cananor and Weatherstorm span around to find the local confectioner, Pinkie Pie, her mouth agape, pointing to one of the highest balconies. Following her terrified gaze, the duo looked up and nearly choked on what they saw. Cananor had to rub his eyes a few times with the back of his hooves in disbelief: either the baked bad he had eaten earlier in the night was causing him to hallucinate, or there was an eerie blue fog-like aura materialising from thin air.

An unnatural silence fell over the hall as all eyes present gaped at the horrifying spectacle before them. Nopony could muster the courage to make so much as a squeak. Slowly, like a ghostly wraith rising from the grave, the mist parted, revealing a shadowy figure, shrouded in darkness.

Standing on a balcony directly to the left of the one occupied by this newcomer, Starfire could have sworn that, for a brief instant, it was Princess Celestia. He saw the horn of a unicorn on what he assumed was the figures head, and the regal wings of a Pegasi on her back. That could mean only one thing: an Alicorn.

‘This is impossible,’ thought the student. ‘Princess Celestia is the only alicorn I know of that exists in Equestria. Unless...’

The shadow-being took a few lunging hoof-steps forward, out of the darkness that seemed to envelope it and into the bright light of the candle-lit hall.

It was a mare. She had large, powerful wings and a long, regal horn. An Alicorn, as Starfire had predicted. But this was certainly not Princess Celestia.

Her fur was a rich, dark black. Blacker than night, if that was even possible. Her face, although something of bizarre beauty, was twisted in malice and hate, her eyes burning with the embers of spite as they feasted on the terrified faces below her. Her mane and tail, and luscious and rippling as the princess’s themselves, were made of the same unearthly blue aura that she had appeared in moments earlier. The dark mists wafted around her horseshoe-adorned hooves like an obedient puppy, completely under her twisted control.

She had a regal posture, her neck craned upwards to show her superiority over those below her. When she spoke, her voice was deep and callous, well spoken but gushing venom. “Oh, my beloved subjects,” she boomed, her words echoing to the back of the deathly silent hall. “It’s been so long since I last seen your precious, little, sun-loving faces.” She spat each syllable out in utter disgust.

Starfire felt an icy chill every time she exhaled. He turned to find several of his students hiding behind the curtains, little droplets of tears forming in their youthful eyes. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom stood huddled together, their hooves wrapped tightly around each other, futilely grasping for unobtainable comfort.

The unicorn didn’t know the name of the Pegasus who spoke back, but she had some serious courage to shout out, “What did you do with our princess?” What’s more, she had the guts to take off toward the newcomer in a fit of fury. What she was going to do when she reached the party-crasher Starfire did not know, nor did he think she knew herself, but luckily she didn’t get that far: the mare was held back by an orange earth pony, her rainbow-coloured tail held tightly in her friend’s jaws and preventing her from making any progress forward.

The apparent Alicorn laughed off the attempted assault as though the light blue mare was no more than a young foal throwing a tantrum. “Why,” she hissed, “Am I not royal enough for you?” Her wings cracked like thunder as they flapped. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Oh! Oh! More guessing games!” The pink pony beside the confectionary table chirped in optimistically. “Um... Hokey Smokes? How about Queen Meanie? No... Black Snooty! Bl...” Her speech was muffled as a cupcake found itself forcefully inserted into her grinning mouth by the now-multitasking orange coated mare.

The Alicorn was off the balcony in a blur, a flourish of black wings, and staring hypnotically into the face of Fluttershy. The terrified little mare recoiled in horror, fearing that the last face she would she was that of the snarling black snake. The choir of birds abandoned their mistress in a complete panic, sailing off the perch and out of the window as fast as their little wings could carry them. “Does my crown no longer count now I’ve been IMPRISONED for a thousand years?”

There was a swish, and suddenly she was beside Rarity. “Did you not recall the legend?” she seethed, trailing her elegantly flowing tail along the length of the unicorn’s chin. “Did you not see the signs?”

Weatherstorm, previously scared out of his wits, felt his muscles tighten and his jaw clench in anger. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and let out a snort of rage. ‘If this freak so much as touches a single strand of hair on her mane,’ he mentally prepared himself for a fight, ‘I’ll pick up where Rainbow Dash left off.’

Luckily for him, it never came to that. The voice came from behind him.

“I did.”

Looking over the balcony, Starfire saw a lavender unicorn emerge from the crowd of spectators, parting the waves. Her dark blue mane was streaked with magenta. She had her steely gaze locked on the shadow dweller, her brow furrowed and mouth curled up into a determined scowl.

“I did!” she announced. “And I know who you are. You’re the mare in the moon...” she paused dramatically. “Nightmare Moon!”

‘Nightmare Moon!’ Alarm bells rang in Starfire’s mind. He knew the story as well as anypony else, but had always dismissed it as nothing more than as an old pony’s tale. ‘Princess Celestia’s sister! Could the legends have been true?’

Nightmare Moon seemed to enjoy being recognised, her black heart fuelled by warped pride. She allowed herself a small emotionless smile, rows of sharp fanged teeth gleaming in the moonlight pouring in through the windows. “Well, well, well,” the former princess smirked. “Somepony who remembers me.” Her smile dissolved into another twisted snarl. “Then you also know why I’m here.”

The purple mare gulped and became visibly frightened. Her voice gave a little crack. “You’re here to... to...”

The Nightmarish pony threw back her head and cackled demonically. “Remember this day, little ponies.” The Alicorn ruffled her wings, chilling the bones of all who stood near. “For it was your last. From this moment forth, the night...”

“Will last...”

“Forever!”

A thin line of lightning materialised and licked the ceiling, accompanied by a dull clap of thunder. Nightmare Moon’s mane, which seemed to come to life of its own accord, spiralled up into the stormy skies and began to circulate the roof, spinning faster and faster until, it could only be assumed, it would engulf everypony and everything in a hurricane of hair.

Mayor Mare had had just about enough of this intrusion. With a shrill cry of, “Seize her!” and a magic wave of her hoof, the guards sprung into action. “Only she knows where the princess is!”

At first, Belove thought the order had been issued to himself, and the rest of his squad. He was, after all, a proud member of the Ponyville guard, and this had quickly become a Ponyville problem. Ready and rearing for action, the earth pony turned to his commander to give the signal to attack. It never arrived, or at least not by his commander. Captain Icarus of the Canterlot Elite Royal Bodyguards casually rose his right hoof, before giving Belove a smug, confident grin. When his hoof shot down, there was a flash of white as three royal bodyguards blasted off from where they were standing, their collective wing-power blowing dust into the spectator’s eyes like a sandstorm. Coughing, Belove cursed the captain: here he was, saving the day yet again. The cherished hero. And here Belove was, sitting in the sidelines, feeling and looking absolutely useless. This was HIS turf, as he was a PONYVILLE guard, which gave Icarus NO right to be doing HIS work.

The three bodyguards catapulted themselves towards the intruder, the snarling faces they wore clearly displaying the fact they had enough of talking.

Nightmare Moon growled back at the oncoming threat, rearing onto her hind legs and kicking her front hooves forward aggressively. “Stand back, you foals!” she hissed to the approaching pegasi. The guards, fuelled with pride, testosterone and rage for their missing princess, didn’t heed the warning. They did, however, seem to be reconsidering their idea of flying directly towards an unknown hostile once her narrowed eyes started to glow a brilliant, radiant white. Wisps of smoke bellowed from the mare’s pupil-less eyes as the power in her surged, little sparks of electricity crackling and striking the metal flag poles nearby.

Like many standing near the front rows, the flash blinded Belove for a few seconds, meaning he didn’t witness what had happened next. He did, however, hear the echoing crack of thunder and the dull thump as three dazed pegasi hit the floor. Even with his vision blurred, the earth pony could just about make out the surprised and barely conscious faces of the stallions, looking fairly unsure of what had just happened. As much as he hated to admit it, Belove felt a little happy at the sight of three trained bodyguards, ‘the best of the best,’ shaking in fear like colts. It served them right, after all.

The princess of the night cackled gruesomely, like she had just delivered the twisted punchline of a sick joke. Were that the case, the reaction she received was certainly a knockout.

Weatherstorm and Cananor’s vision returned to them and they found themselves lying on top of each other. Blinking away white dots, Weatherstorm removed his hind hoof from the lawyer’s open mouth and Cananor removed his horn from the journalist’s flaring nostril. How they had managed to get into such a position in but a few seconds of blindness puzzled them both, but they took a vow to never talk of the experience again.

Floaters still gliding majestically before his eyes like ballet dancing fairies, Cananor raised his head back up to the balcony. Although he was still fairly groggy, the unicorn saw this ‘Nightmare Moon’ wrap her entire body in her eerie blue mist like a pupal insect cocooning itself in a chrysalis. The aura completely engulfed the black form until there was no physical embodiment left. As mysteriously as she entered, the fog leapt from the handrail and glided through swarms of fear-stricken ponies like a twisting python, past the staggering guardsmen, burst through the heavy oak doors and flew into the cloudless night sky above. The entire hall resounded with her chilling laughter, and then she was gone for good. Rainbow Dash, the Pegasus who had challenged the Alicorn earlier, freed her tail from the clutches of her friend’s jaws, and she was out of the doors a moment later with a cry of, “Come back here!” It was to no avail. Nightmare Moon was gone.

The room didn’t stay silent for long. One panicked scream ripped through the hall, then a chorus. Weatherstorm was aided onto his hooves by Cananor and Belove, who had abandoned his post and galloped over to his friends. The guard seemed half terrified, half ecstatic, and all ready for action. Giving Weatherstorm a sharp pull to all fours and nearly dislocating the stallion’s shoulder, Belove pointed toward the double doors, where the intruder had made her escape. “What in the hay was all that about?”

The journalist cautiously applied some gentle pressure on the hoof Belove had tugged him up with, half expecting a burning pain to shoot up the length of his leg. Luckily, his brutish friend hadn’t broken it. Re-adjusting his glasses, his first thoughts turned to Rarity. The last he had seen her, she was recoiling from the flash of Nightmare Moon’s magic, and he direly hoped she hadn’t taken a tumble over the balcony. Such a fall would be most unpleasant.

“Is everypony quite alright?” he wheezed. “Are you all... Where is Rarity? I do hope she isn’t hurt.”

Cananor pushed past Belove. “She left. Ran after that purple unicorn, with a few others. But I guess I had this whole thing figured wrong; that was MUCH more exciting than I thought! And the special effects were excellent! Does this happen every year, or...”

The rest of Cananor’s ramblings were left unheard by the journalist. Quicker than any of the others had seen him move before, he flew out of the building without another word.

“Rude!” the lawyer called out after him. He turned his attention back to Belove.

“So, Belove... how are things for you? Did you enjoy the show? I actually thought it was pretty cool!” He asked, casually taking a hay sandwich from the buffet table and eating it whole.

“Meh. So-so.” The guardsman replied, managing to swipe an apple fritter from the table before a shrieking stallion ran past and flipped it for no apparent reason, the contents of the table sailing off in all directions. There was no real reason as to why he should have done this: Belove just guessed that mass hysteria made some ponies go a little bit mad. One mare, one of the high society guests, was flailing her hooves above her head and gnashing her teeth in a most un-marely manner. Another, a plum-coated earth pony with a mulberry mane, was running in circles with a punch bowl on her head, her tongue licking at the dripping liquid. The mayor was trying to calm everypony down with promises of, “It’ll be okay!” which were to no avail. Powerless to the anarchy in the room, she evacuated the area, escorted by two burly, black suited stallions. Belove and Cananor were the only two ponies in the room who seemed in any way relaxed: everypony else was acting like the end times had arrived.

“I was glad to see those Canterlot guards get knocked onto their flanks,” he mumbled in-between bites. “Bunch of posers. Now, if that had have been ME, it would have ended very differently.”

“Quick! Where’s Weatherstorm!” The two were not aware that they had been joined by a third pony; a dark blue, blond-maned unicorn stood a few feet from them, looking quite worried. His tone was desperate and he was panting heavily, like he had just sprinted down a flight of stairs. “You were talking with Weatherstorm, weren’t you? I need to know where he went.”

The two eyed the newcomer suspiciously: although his mane was drenched in sweat and his eyes were wide in panic, he was still in less of a state than the rest of the gibbering crowds. “And who are you supposed to be?” Belove pouted.

“Does it matter?”

“If you want to know where he went, yes.”

Starfire sighed and mentally counted to five. He was going to get nowhere with these stubborn ponies. “I’m Starfire,” he introduced himself. “I recently moved here.”

Belove nodded but did not return the introduction. “And why are you looking for Weatherstorm? He isn’t the most interesting pony. You know him?”

“Sort of. I... he’s one of the only ponies I know around here.” The student huddled his pupils around his hooves, keeping the youngsters away from the rampaging equines behind him. “I guess I just need to see a friendly face, if anything.”

Belove lowered his guard and allowed himself a small smile. “Belove,” he said. “And this is Cananor.” He ignored Cananor’s remark of, ‘I can introduce myself, you know.’ “You just missed Weatherstorm.”

“Starswirl’s beard!” The unicorn swore, forgetting that there were young foals present. “Where did he go?”

He received only a shrug in reply. “Dunno.” The subject was quickly changed. “Those your kids?”

Starfire found it astonishing that these two strangers displayed not even the faintest trace of worry at the events that had just transpired, or at the prospect of everlasting night. Whilst the rest of Equestria was in a blind panic, these two individuals seemed to be more concerned that the buffet table was no longer serving up delicious treats. He could only assume that the gravity of the situation had not quite sunk in yet. “No, I’m a teacher. I’m sorry, but... are you not at all worried about this?”

The red-coated earth pony scrunched up his face and gave him a foreign look. “Worried about what?”

Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Starfire turned to the scene of chaos behind him. Tables were overturned, banners were torn and shredded, and there was just general disharmony wherever he looked. “Well... all THIS. Eternal night?”

Belove first nodded in understanding, then shook his head in disagreement. “I wouldn’t worry about it. We Ponyville guard will take care of it, I promise.” He boasted with utmost confidence.

Cananor gave Starfire a cheesy grin and repeated what Belove said. “Yeah, the Ponyville guard will take care of it. Belove here's a tough dude, eh?" He laughed. "I mean, it’s all staged, isn’t it?”

Blank stares.

“Wait, you mean...”

Belove and Starfire nodded slowly.

“And it wasn’t...”

Belove and Starfire shook their heads even slower.

Gulping, the unicorn suddenly looked quite faint. The truth had sunk in. “Oh. Oh man. Uh... I’m going home. This is too much for one day. I mean, night. I mean, goodbye.” Stumbling away from the others, a now visibly distraught Cananor joined the mass exodus to the front doors.

Squeezing his way past a howling earth pony, the lawyer was met by his Pegasus friend Derky, pushing his way into the hall, two cardboard boxes marked ‘This way up’ tucked under his hooves. They were upside down.

“Oh, hey Cananor,” the ginger-maned Pegasus beamed. “Is the celebration over? What did I miss?”

Weatherstorm was the only pony in the streets, as far as he could tell. Everypony else was probably kicking up quite the fuss over at the town hall. Despite being a fairly small town, the Pegasus had never seen it as unnaturally quiet and empty as it was tonight. It was almost eerie, passing every thatch-roofed house that sat with no lights on, and no noises coming from within. The unsettling stillness of the streets was quite the contrast to the mass hysteric hustle of the hall. Not even the crickets were chirping tonight: the town was as quiet as a graveyard and as dark as death. Looking up to the completely clear night sky, the journalist could see thousands upon thousands of twinkling little stars, sparkling like precious gems. He thought it funny that he had never actually paid this much attention to the night sky before, but after hearing Nightmare Moon’s threat of eternal darkness, perhaps he might learn to grow more accustomed to it. He would have thought the picturesque canvas of blinking lights against the backdrop of the cool blue ocean quite breathtakingly beautiful, were it not for the fact that he may never see the light of the sun again. Never again feel the warm radiant glow on his cheeks. Could he cope with living the rest of his life squandering around in the darkness? The thought sent an electric shiver down his spine. Such matters could wait. For now, he needed to find where Rarity had gone and in extension, the new resident. She seemed the only one who knew what exactly was going on.

“Rarity!” Weatherstorm called, cupping his hooves around his mouth. His voice shook from the cold chill in the air, or at least that’s what he told himself. “Miss Rarity? Are you there?”

An owl, perched on the branch of an old oak tree, hooted a reply of sorts. The tree was one of the strangest things that Weatherstorm had seen, as of late: it had been hollowed out and turned into a library, moss growing down the side of the overhanging balconies and sprawling onto the windowsills. A sign, that of an open book, swung to and fro in the gentle breeze, squeaking and groaning. The wooden door, painted a deep red, was engraved with a burning candle. It was lying wide open.

Weatherstorm made sure to knock a few times before entering, his hoof making three dull thumps as it connected with the wood. Then silence resumed. A few hours prior to this, the library rang with the sound of music, singing and cheer. Thinking back on it, one of the only ponies that Weatherstorm didn’t see for long at the party was the owner of the premises herself. He saw her only in passing, nothing more.

Cautiously poking his head around the door, Weatherstorm whispered, “Rarity? Are you in here?” He wasn’t sure why he whispered, but it only felt natural in a library. The main room sat empty, various books strewn across the floor, table, and even the winding stairs. Weatherstorm couldn’t help but think of the irony of storing paper books inside a tree: it was like the circle of life.

With a discontented grunt, the Pegasus backed out of the room. He could have sworn she would have been here. Perhaps the Carousel Boutique was worth a shot, but he doubted she would be there either.

“Are you looking for me, dear?” came a soft, feminine voice from behind him. The journalist nearly fell backwards at the sound of the voice. There was only one mare that had a voice that unique in this town: Miss Rarity.

The white unicorn stood in the library doorway, two leather saddlebags slung over her slender form. Both were filled to the brim with what Weatherstorm assumed were cosmetic supplies. “Are you looking for me?” Rarity repeated.

At first, Weatherstorm was glad to see she was unharmed. A lady such as Rarity should not be subject to such horrendous phenomenon, after all, and he was worried that tonight’s events had left her somewhat shaken. His relief turned to confusion when he saw the saddlebags. “I am glad to see you are well, Miss Rarity,” he gave her a formal bow. She shot him a polite look that spoke unsaid words: 'Who are you again?' He did hope wasn't coming off as being too familiar with the mare. That would be rude, indeed. “Forgive me, but are you travelling? I can see you are equipped for quite a journey.”

Trotting into the room, Rarity levitated a small hoof-mirror from the table, knocking a few hardback tomes out of the way. “I mustn’t forget my mirror,” she explained. “I’ll need to look my best for the road ahead.”

“And what road would that be?”

The mare shot him an uneasy look. “I’m unsure whether I can share this information with you. Twilight told us to trust no one.”

Placing a hoof on her delicate shoulder, Weatherstorm gave her a meaningful and dreamy gaze. “Please, Miss Rarity. I can assist you.”

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to offer.” She sighed, tucking the mirror into her left pouch. “But I must decline. And I’m afraid I cannot share any information with you, or anypony else, until I return...”

Weatherstorm wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I beg you, Rarity. You can trust me, and you have my word as a gentlecolt that I shall not converse with another being on the matter until you return, whenever that may be.”

She closed her eyes and looked to the floor. “If you promise, then very well. We head out to ‘The ancient castle of the royal sisters,’ deep within the Everfree Forest. What we seek there I cannot say, but I do not want you, any other member of the press, Mayor Mare, the local guard, or anypony else, to follow us. Understood?” she questioned, as though she were talking to a young foal.

“The Everfree Forest? But Miss Rarity, that is no place for a lady such as yours...”

“PROMISE ME THAT NEITHER YOU, NOR ANYPONY ELSE, WILL FOLLOW US.” Such fire, such assertiveness.

Reluctantly, Weatherstorm gave her his word. She smiled again, thanked him, and turned to leave.

“Please wait!” The Pegasus realised this could be the perfect chance to announce his love to her. The mare stopped and faced him, a little frustrated by the interruption.

“What is it? I really have to catch up with the others, you know.”

Weatherstorm took a deep breath, then released it. He was going to be cool, calm and collected, and reply in a civilized manner that a truly magnificent lady like Rarity deserved. ‘It’s now or never...’

“Before you leave, I need to tell you...

“That I...”

“I...”

Rarity tapped her hoof impatiently. “Can’t it wait, dear? I really must be off.”

“I...”

“Hey, Rarity!” a thick southern accented voice boomed from outside. “How’in tarnation does it take’ya that long to get yer’ gosh-darned mirr’ already?”

“I must be off.” Rarity repeated. “Tell me when I return.”

"I...”

The Pegasus felt himself blushing. ‘Not again...’

“I...”

“...I, oh, I moved the piano!” he hastily blurted out, instantly regretting the decision. ‘Why must I do that every time I talk to her? Now she thinks of me as a complete buffoon.’ He hung his head at once as rosy cheeks blossomed. "I just thought you should know."

The unicorn laughed, her beautiful little laugh. Like birds chirping on a bright summer’s morning. “That’s nice, my dear. I really must go now. And remember: not a word.”

With that, Rarity turned and cantered out of the library. Weatherstorm followed her outside, barely managing to catch a final glimpse of her as she made her way down the dirt path that led to the Everfree Forest. She turned a corner, at the back of the group of mares (Weatherstorm counted around five or six, but he was unsure) and then disappeared from his vision completely.

He sighed mournfully, dropping onto all fours. “I do hope she’s okay. And if she comes back, nay, WHEN she comes back, I can tell her how I feel. I’ll tell her then.”

They didn’t return.