Not since their first escapade to the Crystal Mountains had Twilight or Rainbow seen such harsh winds from a blizzard.

The trip to the Crystal Empire took little time, thanks in no small part to the combination of Rainbow’s speed and Twilight’s magic, but it took the two less than a minute to realize they could not continue to fly in the harsh winds. Twilight could not focus on where to teleport and Dash had barely the power to combat the near thrashing winds. So, begrudgingly by them both, they marched into the kingdom on foot, following the wooden train tracks in the blinding snow.

Both mares lost count of the number of times they had to wipe blankets of white from their eyes, the crystallized water clinging to their coats like greedy foals. Both had deep grimaces, though for two separate reasons.

“This… is… ridiculous!” Rainbow shouted at the top of her lungs, only barely able to speak over the cutting winds. “It’s like getting shouted at by Princess Luna, a thousand times over!” She grunted deeply as she pulled her fore leg from a deep pit of snow only to place it into another.

“We have to keep moving!” Twilight shouted in return. “We have to find Cadance and Shining!”

“I wanna find the freaking castle first!” The cyan mare didn’t bother to turn to her unicorn friend. She doubted she would have been able to see even the deep purple two feet into the white storm. “I can’t even keep track of how close we are!”

Twilight bit her cheek, fully understanding Rainbow’s frustration. She was close to experiencing it herself. All she needed was to at least catch sight of the great Crystal Spire, then maybe she would be able to teleport them closer. She didn’t even dare random teleportation. That could go wrong in more ways she cared to name; and she cared quite a lot.

The two continued to bitterly march through the snow, comforted only by the knowledge that some progress was being made. They were racing against a goddess, a goddess likely already ahead of them, pushing against a storm that was likely making mountains sway, and with not but a track on the ground for direction. Any progress against those hurdles was progress the two would take.

The cold wind continued to bit and snarl into the ponies’ ears, mocking their efforts with each hoof they took forward. It pushed back as spitefully as it threw its words, holding nothing back for the two, showing no signs of offering them mercy. It was as if the Windigoes had seen fit to test these mares for reasons they could not fathom.

But then, beneath the sharp cries of the wind, Rainbow heard something else, something that seemed far more than simply out of place.

She heard a voice. That voice was singing.

BEGIN

With the weight of a storm pushing on her, freezing her wings and soaking her coat, it was hardly something she could call easy to hear. Whether it be through her sensitive hearing or honed sense, the mare wasn’t sure. But the further she moved forward, the surer she was that there was a voice upon the wind, like a filly following her parent’s hooves.

Squinting into the curtain of white, Dash walked towards Twilight, hoping to ask the mare if she heard the voice as well. But as she approached, it became clear by the expression alone that the unicorn did hear the song. Her eyes quizzical, half shut as they were, but ears perked in spite of the already spiteful storm.

Twilight looked to Dash, most likely ready to ask the mare the same thing. Expressions alone shared all that they had to tell.

“It’s the banshee!” It felt wrong to scream atop such a haunting chord, but the cries of the wind would have slashed her words otherwise. Rainbow nodded at the mare, enough so that the blanket of white did not hide the action.

“Yeah, no doubt!” Dash took a deep breath beneath her carriage, not willing to breath in wind that was tearing the fur from her coat. “Sounds creepy! Like Nightmare Moon in my Nightmares on Nightmare Night creepy!” If they weren’t being drowned in snow, Twilight might have laughed. At the moment, she could only smile in return.

That was when a cold through crossed her mind.

“Didn’t Aisling say the Banshee sings for death!?” She honestly wished she should have spoken the question softer. It sounded so horrible to scream about death, but again, she could not let the angry storm to tear her words apart.

“Yeah! She said somethin’ about a warning!” Dash didn’t seem to have the same trouble that Twilight had. To her, words were words, and they only needed to be said as loud as they had to be. Shouting for her wasn’t anything new.

“Then… is she warning us!?”

That was a good question.

The mares didn’t stop moving, despite the renewed silence of their chords. For no short amount of time, the pair were stuck with only the sounds of a mocking wind and a haunting tune, the latter gaining strength the further they walked.

“Nah!” Dash eventually shouted back. “She was singing way before we got here! Remember!? We just gotta hurry! That’s all!” Now it was Twilight’s turn to nod at her friend.

It made sense in most ways. It was highly doubtful that the song was being sung before they came was meant for them. If anything, it was likely there in order to warn all of certain pony’s… demise. Twilight was seriously beginning to hate death and all it’s synonyms. Brendan’s history didn’t help.

She didn’t know what Macha wanted; she didn’t have anything other than a million different theories why the goddess was here. All Twilight knew was that she was strong and she was going to finish whatever she started. No matter what it was, no matter how long the mad goddess had waited, Twilight wasn’t about to let that happen.

‘Convictions give you more than strength.’ Celestia had once told her. ‘They give you purpose, they give you wisdom, and, in some cases, they give you sight.’

Twilight wasn’t sure if was the lesson of her mentor or dumb luck that she finally caught sight of the Crystal Spire.

A ball of joy rose through her, the cold coddling her nearly forgotten. She turned her bright smile to Rainbow, still currently caught in a grimace with snow across her face. Twilight momentarily wondered if her skin was as blue as her coat was now. She quickly dismissed the thought, putting a hoof on the pegasus’s back.

“Dash!” She screamed at her friend, barely heard over the roaring winds. “Look!” Twilight pointed outwards with her hoof, towards the faint outline of the tower. She had to hold the pose against currents of air as Das focused her gaze through the storm. When she saw it, her eyes widened momentarily. She couldn’t keep them open for long with snow blowing in. When Dash turned back to Twilight, she was wearing a careless smile.

“Finally found it!” The pegasus commented on the obvious. “And it only took us an extra few hours!” The sarcasm was unneeded, but still enough to remind the unicorn who she was talking to.

Twilight nodded in response, not wanting to yell anymore than she had to. They had to reach the inside of the castle now, but with it in their sights, it would be much easier for the unicorn. She shifted even closer to the pegasus, wrapping a hoof around the blue mare’s frame. Whether Dash knew what her friend was thinking or was merely acting on instinct, she unfurled her opposite wing, letting it curl around her lavender friend.

Their embrace tight enough to fend off the bitter cold between them, Twilight focused her magic through her horn, channeling in the needed thoughts to teleport. Where she was, where she needed to be, and magic necessary to get there. With a talent in magic, she had plenty of the latter, and her studies had given her more than a grasp of the first two.

With a flash of light, the two vanished from view.

It took only a flash of light for the forms of Celestia and Aisling to reappear in the world. Alone in a plain, the vibrancy of the magic used would have attracted the attention of ponies all around. The pair, however, found themselves not in an open field, but instead in the midst of a snowstorm.

Between the blinding snow and thrashing winds, the appearance of the immortals was both unseen and unheard.

The sounds of roaring gales assaulted the alicorn promptly after appearing. She squinted her eyes and averted her head out on instinct. Her wings rose to shield her already large form, doing little against what was literally a storm.

Something warm then pressed against her leg, leading Celestia squint down at it with her shielded eyes. At first, she saw nothing, nothing but white within a storm of snow. But as her eyes focused harder on the warmth that was doubtlessly clinging to her, she slowly made out the faintest of green.

Celestia wasn’t sure if it was the cold, the wind, or the sound that was making the Fae against her shiver. Regardless of what it was, the princess was no a pony to remain stagnant when others around her were in pain.

The alicorn swiftly lowered her wing to encompass the much smaller creature, wrapping her protectively within her feathers. She already felt cold, though Celestia marked as a consequence of the nymph’s bare skin and the weather around them.

Aisling wasted little time shifting within the embrace, scurrying within the mesh of alabaster feathers like a pup against its mother. Celestia very much doubted the ancient Fae thought of her as such, but the warmth she had, a kind consequence of commanding the sun, allotted her a comfort within the freezing storm.

Still, she could not very well let her wing hold the Fae if she intended to march through the storm. It’s screeching winds pushed against her like vile magic, blinding her vision and protesting her strength. However, it would also be improper and dangerous to let the bare nymph walk amongst frozen water. Fortunately, there was an action she could take.

“Here,” Celestia whispered into the cocoon of her wing. “Clasp onto my back, warm yourself within my mane. I will search for a path through this storm.” The Fae spoke no words in return. Instead, she shifted amongst the feathers of white, moving until her head peaked from the bent wing. Celestia’s pink eyes met the Fae’s curious green. She smiled, though she very much doubted Aisling could see it.

Regardless, the nymph appeared to accept the alicorn’s offer. She slowly reached from within feathers, grabbing at the ethereal rainbow mane that billowed harshly against the blistering winds. Her slender fingers grasped at it, pulling herself onto the alicorn’s back.

Celestia adjusted her wing to give the Fae leverage, not showing even the smallest of discomfort as the nymph pulled on her hair. In truth, it bothered her little. It was far from the first time her mane was tugged, and the creature was far smaller than an orphanage of ponies. Though, to be truthful, the numbing cold most likely played a hand in heightening her tolerance.

The alicorn felt a small force against her inner wing, a feeling accompanied by a small force pressing on her back. The nymph had deftly jumped from the alabaster cocoon to Celestia’s back, curling herself into the ethereal mane as she did. The alicorn felt the hard edges of the Book of Kells push against her, just as well as she felt the nymph snuggle against her coat.

Celestia twisted her neck, hoping to see what little she could of Aisling’s condition. Patches of her pale skin were visible between her own copiously colored mane. The Book of Kells and her long alabaster hair, however, were far clearer to see. Even in a storm of white, Celestia could not ignore the brilliance of gold from the tome, nor the mix of pure white against her own hair. The Fae shivered against her, bringing the alicorn back to focus.

“Be well Aisling, stay warm.” Celestia did all that she could let her soothing words be spoken over the harsh winds. “The cold matters little to me, but you may stay close until it passes.”

“It will not pass.” It was a whisper, like so many of her words were, one as cold as the winds around them. Celestia would have doubtlessly missed it were her head not hunched towards the nymph on her back. “This storm is not natural, it is hers.” There was only one other soul the diarch had heard the Fae speak so coldly of.

“Then she is here.” It was not a fear the diarch suspected would be relieved. “We must find her quickly then.”

“No,” Aisling whispered again. Her grip tightened on the alicorn’s mane, earning a small grimace from the old pony. It was not painful, but it was not a comfortable feeling either. “Find the banshee, the singer of the song. We must find her.”

Celestia needed to wear no mask of confusion to gain more knowledge. With the voice on the wind and conversation from only moments earlier, it was only too clear of whom the Fae spoke. Even now, the haunting tone of a female’s chords echoed through the wind, both beneath its rumbling waves and above its screeching gusts.

“The Banshee is, as you said before, not a reason for fear. It is merely warning the ponies of the Crystal Empire of Macha’s presence.” It was something they had agreed on earlier. “To rid the land of Macha would be dismissing the need for the Banshee.”

“The storm hides Macha,” Aisling spoke her few words again. “You cannot find her when she hides. You cannot find what does not want to be found.” There were so many meanings behind those words, but Celestia focused on only what she needed to in the moment.

“So we cannot find her as long as the storm persists, and we cannot end the storm until she is found.” A cold grimace dark enough to math the storm around them etched itself over the diarch’s features. It was a circle of logic, but one that once made was impossible to break. She favored making them herself, but only now did she feel such loathing for another’s. “Then why the Banshee.”

“She can help.” Simple words with deep meaning once more. Even shivering, cold, and bundled like a new born filly, Aisling didn’t cease to be wise.

“Then find her I shall,” Celestia swore strongly. Her head returned to its normal posture, standing high in the face of the storm. Her wings once more unfolded to cover her vision, fending off the snow that barreled into her. Hoofsteps were difficult, with the harsh wind and deep snow coverage but she had endured far more in her thousand years than a simple storm, no matter its method of creation.

In spite of the pain it caused, Celestia kept her ears up and pointed, searching for the source of the song. It was difficult against the equal cry of the winds, but where the sound of cutting air came from all around, the song only came from a single source.

Her path veered little to the right, hearing the strength of the chords increase as she ventured forward, only to steer left once more as it grew faint. Like a slow wave, she proceeded forward, never once losing track of the sound, but still holding the low fear that there was magic at work she had yet to perceive.

Aisling did little as she moved, little more than continue to grasp her mane and burrow closer to her coat. The alicorn did not mind the small nymph snuggling into her. It reminded the diarch of Twilight when she was but a foal, tired from a long night of reading. The difference was she could remove the foal from her books, even if only for overnight. Celestia very much doubted even the strength of the world would be enough to separate Aisling from Brendan’s Tome.

The diarch’s ears twitched as the volume of the singing grew louder, its voice clearer. The volume was not a change Celestia was surprised about, such a thing was natural to happen the closer she ventured towards the voice.

What she did not have preparedness for was the quieting of the storm.

One did not belittle the other. Sound would normally become too much, and the alicorn would force her ears down. But now, in this terrible blizzard, Celestia found the sounds of winds simply vanishing in place of the song. She didn’t know if she was supposed to be grateful or wary. She settled for both, reconciling that she must be getting closer.

Now she was no longer searching for a song, a song that was now louder than the storm itself. Now she was looking for a shape, a figure, anything that would not belong in a storm such as this. No life in Equestria was made to bear these conditions. Adaptation had made it clear that flight was preferred over fight in the face of a storm.

Her eyes squinted, peaking out from the cover of her wings as often as she could without the billowing snow blinding her. It was not often, but often enough. She often caught the small outlines of the crystal fields, the occasional pillar of ice. Both were stagnant, as solid in the storm as a mountain over the earth.

But Celestia did not cease her search, nor did she allow thoughts of ceasing. More than one life was endangered by the creator of this storm and, according to the nymph that continued to shiver on her back, the key to ridding the Empire of it was singing to them in warning.

No sooner did the thought pass her mind did the sight pass her eyes.

It was faint, quick, like a gust of wind across the forest floor, but the diarch did not doubt what she saw. Throwing caution to the ever-present wind, the diarch lowered her wings, straining her vision against the harsh winds.

And again, she saw it.

It was a tall figure, reminding the alicorn too much of Macha from before. But where as Macha was still and cold, harsh and sharp with her poise and words, the figure appeared the opposite. It flowed behind the curtain of snow like a phantom, parts of it appearing to billow like cloth. There was little more that could be said with the faint sight she possessed.

Steeling herself, Celestia trotted quickly towards the figure, feeling Aisling grip her mane at the jostling.

Then they broke through the storm. There were few to no others ways to describe it. Simply, Celestia was caught in a blizzard that tore at her eyes, ears, and coat, then she was not.

The sharp cries of the winds died to but a whisper. Their harsh claws against the alicorn’s coat turned to little more then petals falling. All around the figure in the snow, the storm was nothing. The storm was nothing because the figure’s song was everything. In every aspect of the word, they were within the calm.

The figure… Celestia trotted towards it, feeling Aisling slip from her back as they approached. It took only a glance to see the Fae was fine. She merely had her eyes trained on the same figure, the Book of Kells still wrapped tightly within her grasp. Her concern for the Fae satisfied, Celestia turned back to the creature they continued to approach.

To her dismay, but not shock, the creature singing the storm very much resembled Macha from earlier. Its skin was coatless bar the silk that hung from its form. Long hair, long like Celestia mane, billowed from the creature’s head. Though the winds of the storm were not but a spring’s breeze, the threads flowed as if they were caught in water. And, much like the Fae besides her, the figure had skin pale as the snow.

But none of those features caught the alicorn’s eyes. She was already used to differences between species, only needing a moment to familiarize what was within and without the norm. Dulled claws, long manes, coatless skin, forever clothed, these were things Celestia had seen on all three of these mythical creatures.

But this one, the singer in the storms, this… Banshee, it had something far more disturbing.

It had eyes white as clouds, crying a river of red.

It was a stream of crimson that flowed down its skin, marring the pale flesh and staining its white silken clothes. The sight was one of the single most disturbing images Celestia was forced to witness, and forced to ignore.

“This…” the alicorn whispered out, unwilling to turn her eyes away. “This is the banshee?” There was only one other life near the ancient pony that heard the question well enough to answer.

“Yes,” Aisling responded. It was a whisper, one that Celestia had become already accustomed to hearing. “The warner of death, the last caution before the end.”

“Then we have found her.” Celestia had far more to say, but she was far too busy staring at the creature that continued to sing. It was a sight horrifically brilliant, terrifyingly captivating. All around, simply wondrous. It forced a question from her lips before she recognized the thoughts.

“I wonder who it was, who she once was.”

“The maiden by the sea, the ghost of Annabelle Lee.”

That earned a whip of the alicorn’s head.

Celestia stared down at the seemingly young Fae, nothing but two spots of green among the blankets of snow around them; her hair and skin all but a part of the cold blanket around them. The nymph, however, had her eyes trained on the Banshee still, who was still singing her endless chant.

“Aisling,” Celestia began. “How do you know… its name? Did you not tell us but a moment past that you knew nothing of it but songs?” The alabaster mare did not think lowly of the Fae, not in the slightest. She did not believe the nymph was lying, nor hoarding information, not with the anger she clearly had for the goddess they were both against.

Aisling did not answer, not with words at least. She shifted in the snow, her barely covered feet crunching the blanket of white around her. Her arms unfolded from her chest, extending outwards with the precious object she still had grasped in her tiny dull claws.

Celestia couldn’t decide which to stare. The banshee still singing her haunting hymn, the nymph who named the creature with knowledge she did not possess, or the golden tome she held, the object she wordlessly blamed for her epiphany.

Even in a world full of magic, the alicorn could not cease to be mystified or mesmerized. There was always questions to be asked, things on which to ponder. Right now was no different. Yet, with a combination of all events around them and behind them, Celestia put them into one word.

“How?” The Fae pulled the tome close against her body as she answered. The Banshee continued to sing.

“I believe in Brendan’s Book.” Aisling spoke the words without any room for discussion. “The hope that it will guide me as it guided him. He wrote in it, as did the man before him, and the man before him. Each writer is guided by the last. Now I believe in it, so it guides me.”

But one does not simply grasp knowledge from nothing, was what Celestia wanted to say. Yet, that wasn’t entirely untrue. Knowledge came from understanding, and comprehension took the form of more than simple words on a page. Yet this was different, Aisling did not “sleep” on a question that annoyed her. She did not approach this problem in new ways.

She simply did not know. And then, with little more than her faith, she did. The mare said a word of thanks to her sister that Twilight was not present. Otherwise, they may never have been able to return to the matters at hand.

Celestia was curious, doubtlessly, but she had been ruler of Equestria long enough to her priorities. Her musings were far beneath the lives of others.

“Aisling, is she causing this storm?” The Fae was quick to shake her head.

“No,” she spoke in the same whisper, carried by the winds, not torn by them. “She sings to warn of death. Death is not in this storm. Death is hiding within it.” Celestia let her wisdom speak in place of her intelligence.

“Then she knows of where the danger is,” the alicorn loosely answered, not as a statement, not as a question. “Will she tell us?” Celestia turned back to the figure of white is a storm of snow, crying with eyes that held no sight. “Can she tell us?”

“No,” Aisling spoke again, no differently than before. “But she can help us.” Celestia did not turn away from the Banshee.

“How?” It was as simple a question as the one she spoke before.

“We can end the storm. She can sing with me.” Now Celestia gave the Fae her sight. Aisling was gazing up at her as well, green eyes like pools of emerald among the shores of white. Her grin was just as blinding. “We are closer to the Ley Lines. The storm will listen, like the forest. I know it will.” She adjusted the book in her arms, pushing her arms away until the book was held in front of her.

Hesitation was clearly thick over the Fae’s eyes, a sharp contrast to the hope and near child like delight she held moment and hours before. The mare could not guess why quickly. There was no reason for her to think the nymph disliked singing. From Twilight’s testimony, it was likely how the Aisling performed her magic.

She had spoken earlier of the banshee’s actions being one of light, not darkness, so there was unlikely some hesitation to sing with her. The young Apple Bloom was only too eager to tell Celestia of how Aisling sang not once, but thrice with her.

So the question was still being begged, why was this seemingly infinitely wise nymph so hesitant to act here?

Then, Aisling was holding the Book of Kells to the alicorn. She had moved so fast Celestia needed a moment to comprehend what she had done. The tome that she had gripped since the moment they had met was being presented to her. It was not like a present, nor a gift or tribute. It was being handed off with greater care and a strong grip, the way a mother would part with her foal towards a friend.

“Guard this,” the nymph spoke in a tone that brokered no discussion. “Keep it safe. Keep it close.”

Celestia stared at the Fae for not the first time in wonder. She near dumbly nodded as she extended her ethereal aura outwards, gripping the book through the conduit that was her horn. The golden book glowed a brighter yellow with the alicorn’s magic, levitating to the all mare.

Aisling held her fingers outwards, long after the book had left her grasp. Her green eyes continued to stare at it, as if read to snatch it away at any moment. Celestia doubted she could blame the nymph if she did. Without the contact of her hoof, without gazing at its pages, Celestia already found herself enraptured by the mighty tome.

She could feel the wisdom of millennia coursing through it, nearly rippling with knowledge the alicorn possessed little of, any pony possessed little of. And the longer her gaze was focused upon it, the clearer her mind became. It was as if the book was mountain and Celestia was standing at its peak. Not even the highest of clouds could obstruct her view. The world was hers to see, hers to learn, and hers to understand.

END

Celestia wasn’t sure when the Banshee, this Annabelle Lee, had finished her song, too enraptured with the tome she held. As the silence of not only the mythical creature, but also the storm around, began to deafen the alicorn, she turned her gaze from the book.

When her gaze turned towards the ghostly creature, she saw its sightless eyes focused not on her, but the Fae standing before her. Aisling stood no taller than the creature’s waist, if barely that. The Banshee had its lips parted, not a sound coming from her. Aisling met the blind gaze without fear or hesitance, hands folded behind her back and neck craned upwards.

“You miss him.” Celestia doubted she would have heard the Fae if the storm encompassing them was making any noise. “You mourn for him, and for others like him.”

The Banshee did not utter a word, not even a breath of air. Its unseeing gaze told as much as her absent words. The only sign it even heard the Fae’s word was the slight tilting of its head. Celestia could not help but wonder if this creature, so named Annabelle Lee, even knew the words Aisling spoke.

“Taken by angels, kept by demons, and forgotten by all.” More noticeable than the first action, the Banshees head lowered slightly. Celestia took it as she saw it.

In this Banshee were the memories of this supposed Annabelle Lee, a maiden from the sea. How preserved the moments of her now long past life are was a matter of debate, but as the Princess of the Day would never forget the banishment of her own sister, she very much doubted this near ethereal creature would forget her own imprisonment.

Celestia blinked at her own inner deduction.

As much of a sleuth as she prided herself to be with others, what she had down was nothing short of foresight, done so without any ritual or magic. She looked at the tome still held in her grasp before she bothered to ask herself how it was possible.

“But it was not all, not entirely.” The alicorn focused on the Fae as she began to speak again. “It was all… but him.” The nymph spoke with a spark of warmth, the alicorn knew she did not imagine it. And if she had, the smile that played at the Fae’s pale lips was apart of it. “He who is yours.”

Now Annabelle reacted.

This figure, only a trait away from being an apparition, raised its hands to its mouth silently as if to hold back a cry Celestia wasn’t sure she would have heard. Her form hunched as if struck, shoulders slumping forwards as if to guard her heart, knees rising to protect the same thing.

“Don’t worry, don’t mourn.” Aisling’s instructions were kind in tone, though they were blunt in speech. “He may be passed, but he is waiting. I know, and you know.”

The Banshee, Annabelle Lee, lifted her gaze to the Fae, her sightless eyes staring as if they possessed a vision of which they did not. The Fae was unperturbed by the sight. Rather, she was grateful for it. It was the only way Celestia could justify the smile across the small nymph’s lips.

Then Aisling began to sing.

BEGIN

In a land of peace and harmony, Celestia had heard ponies of all ages and lands sing before. She had heard ballads, sonnets, poems, verses, rhymes, and even sung allegories. Ever one of them was beautiful in some way, some small piece that captivated her ears.

What Celestia heard now was something else entirely.

The words Aisling sung did not simply wash over the alicorn, they flowed through her. They enveloped the mare like a cool blanket, chilling her skin and taking breath from her lungs. Her spirit froze as the voice continued to sing its song. For all the alicorn was prepared for, this was not among them.

Annabelle Lee responded in much the same way as the diarch. Her unseeing eyes widened at the chords, her hands falling to her chest as the words overcame her. The form she had hunched over in pain now was bent to listen. Without a word, without sight, without sound, the Warner of Death gave all her attention to the Fae.

Aisling was the only one among the trio that was not frozen by her haunting hymn. Her eyes shut lightly as she let the magic of her words flow from her lips, tiptoeing across the snow. Her long hair waved in a hardly felt wind, blithely twisting in the air. Her neck arched with each word she sung with emphasis, dropping only when the chords permitted.

The nymph’s arms waved around her, in a manner the alicorn immediately recognized as a dance. Though it was a motion she had never seen before, a ballet she hardly recognized, she could tell from the control twists, the gentle flicks, and slow arching of the Fae’s fingers that she was, indeed, dancing. It only became too clear as the slow strides of Aisling became small twists, her body twirling with her long mane, that the dance was more than an act of enjoyment.

The storm around the three was hardly felt while the Banshee sung; now it was something else entire. Before it slashed at them like a cruel animal, then it whimpered like a startled babe. Now, under the power of Aisling’s song, it comforted them.

What was once a coo chill made only by Aisling’s haunting hymn was now a mother’s embrace, accompanied by the slow twirling drafts of the blizzard wind.

Then Annabelle Lee began to sing.

As it was before, the Banshee’s tune was not filled with colorful words or descriptive language. Instead, it was a continuous tone, a long gorgeous chord that filled the few vacant pockets of air with life. Unlike before, however, it was not a cold tune that warned of a coming end. It was light as mist, soft as grass, and full of a love that Celestia could feel.

The tall pale figure folded her forelimbs upwards, clasping her dull claws together. Her unseeing eyes looked upwards, up at a thing the diarch didn’t believe existed. The silk of her gown waved as she continued to sing, matched the chords and rhyme of Aisling with an almost practiced ease. Never once faltering, never once failing.

Celestia watched them, captivated by the song, the dance, and the storm around them. They flowed together with magic even the immortal alicorn hardly ever saw. It was not a magic that she could teach, even if she wished to, nor was it one a filly or colt could easily learn.

It was a magic not of the mind nor body, but the heart and soul. It was a channeling of magic that was given strength, not guidance by the soul’s admission, by the heart’s desire. For every turn and twist the Fae committed to, the storm mimicked. For every rise and fall the Banshee sung, the wind repeated.

The diarch watched mutely through the entire performance, never once daring to think of turning away. It was a more amazing than sight then nearly anything else the alicorn had been blessed to see, nearly. The Book of Kells was held strongly in her ethereal grasp, glowing gold under the magic of Celestia, its own golden linings shimmering with the light.

Then Celestia began to sing.

Her voice was much deeper than the Fae or Banshee’s, though by no means less wonderous to hear. While the words and chords of the former two ancient creatures were the silk to the bedding, wrapping the listener in a cocoon of serenity, Celetia’s carefully sung tones lifted them up, holding them suspended in the air.

She let her body move with the word she sung, waving her head in tune with her mane, matching the rise and fall of the chords. Her legs sauntered as she trotted, unwilling to dance but fully prepared to lose herself in the magic of the words, the magic of the Fae, the magic of the Banshee, but most importantly, her own magic.

Before the storm wavered and stalled against the voices of the Fae, now it trembled.

It wavered and shook under the force of the singing immortals, their words and magic guiding it like a shepherd to a flock. The snow waved towards one direction before being swept in another, flowing not like an angry hail in the midst of a storm, but a leaf atop a flowing stream. Peaceful, serene, but nonetheless captivating to watch.

And so their song and dance continued, guiding magic through their words and actions, leaving their thoughts aside from guidance. Magic was meant to be wondrous, and sometimes, acts of wonder came from the lack of thought. This… this was a magic that was long lost to Equestria, a magic not of thought and compromise, but heart and soul.

The nymph that led the song ceased her dance only when she was just a pace away from the Banshee, her voice falling until her lips shut, words and song no longer coming from her. She looked up to the ghost of Annabelle Lee, smiling a kind and forgiving smile. The song around them began to fade.

“Go,” Aisling whispered as her part ended. The Banshee lowered its gaze to the Fae. “He is waiting. You can go now.”

The song ended.

END

Shortly after the storm ended.

Like a falling curtain, the blankets of ice and snow came tumbling down, no wind to guide them or air to hold them. It was a silent fall, one that blinded the

Annabelle Lee was gone.

The silence was tranquil, a peace that came from the absence of sound. There were no harsh winds or soothing melody, only the clear air and crystal structures around them. Celestia took in a breath of the cold air, letting it fill her lungs.

It was in spite of everything that had occurred thus far, it was in disregard to what they had seen up till now, but in this moment, next to a Fae far older and her kingdom, Celestia felt good.

“She is happy.” Aisling’s words slowly drew the diarch back into reality. Her words sounded as if they spoken only breath’s length away from here, the silence of the air a boom for her whispering voice.

“Because you helped her,” Celestia clarified. “That what a very kind thing of you to do.”

“Kind?” The nymph questioned. “It was normal. We help what needs help. That is nature.” Celestia, oddly enough, was only too happy to agree.

“I believe this is yours.” Celestia lightly waved her head to guide her magic.

Even through the song she sang, eyes closed and heart in bliss, she never let her magic over the tome fade. It was a strong force, a protective aura, that kept the book safe, just as she promised the small Fae she would. It was still just as brilliant, still just as heavy, and Celestia was keen to say still just as warm.

Aisling’s small arms eagerly grabbed the Book of Kells, pulling it close to her chest as the golden aura around it faded. Celestia smiled kindly down at the nymph. It was a gesture that was returned. The pair swiftly turned their attention to the large spire, not too far off in the distance.

“She is there.” Celestia did not need to question it.

“She is.” Aisling did not need to doubt it.

“Then let us be off,” Celestia extended her wing towards the nymph once more, just as before. “We must be swift if we are to end this before it begins.”

“We will end this,” Aisling spoke confidently, an ancient strength rumbling her chords. She did not grab the alicorn’s wing, however. Instead, she jumped with impressive height onto the mare’s back. Celestia was stunned only momentarily, quickly righting herself. “For Brendan and his people, for my people and our land, this will end.”

The diarch nodded, shutting her eyes as she channeled the magic of her sun into her horn. Guiding her thoughts, focusing her wishes, she projected for the throne room…

“But we are too late.”

Celestia’s magic stopped.

The glow of her shorted out as connections within her mind failed. Wide eyes turned to the pale nymph on her back, questing with her gaze alone what the Fae meant. Aisling, head bowed behind a long mane of cascading white, answered.

“It has started.”

Twilight was shaking, not shivering.

She felt cold within, but not without.

Her eyes could only see one thing, but she was far from blind.

Her brother, Shining Armor, was bloody and broke on the crystal floor.

“SHINING!”

The terrified cry ripped from her throat as the mare galloped forward, faster than she believed she ever could. Her hooves beat at the crystal with a strength that threatened to crack them, her fearful cries almost enough to shatter them, but the prone and unmoving form of her brother did not give her any notice.

“Shining! Shining!” Twilight wailed as she was soon on top of her brother, sliding to a stop on the cold floor. Her hooves placed themselves over the Captain of the Guard, shaking him like a scared foal would her mother. “Say something! Shining! Please!”

Tears blurred her vision, hiding what the unicorn was sure would have been a sickening sight, more sickening than it already was. What it was was enough to make her stomach rumble with disgust. What little she could still see consisted of colors.

She saw the white of her brother’s coat, hiding beneath the normal purple of his armor, concealed a bit more by the blue of his mane, but all three drenched in red. So much… red.

Then Twilight felt a hoof on her shoulder.

The unicorn whirled at the pressure, her senses pushed to a dangerous level. Her terrified and wet gaze made out the blurry image of Rainbow, her mane and coat the only features of the pegasus she could see. Twilight wasted no time in brushing her friend’s hoof off of her. Dash wasted just as much time grabbing the unicorn again.

“Let me go!” Twilight screamed. Dash did no such thing. Rather, instead, she pulled the unicorn back from her brother. Twilight was reminded once more why Dash was a master athlete. Her strength meant nothing against the pegasus’s.

“Twi, calm down!” Rainbow yelled at her, though far softer than the unicorn did. In a sane state of mind, Twilight may have heeded her friend’s words. She was far from sane.

“No!” She nearly screeched back “Let me go! My brother needs me! Let me go! We need to help! We… We need to find Cadance!”

“Do not worry. I am here.” Twilight’s and Rainbow’s respective heads whipped towards the words.

From just behind the Crystal Throne, a sultry figure walked out. It was almost a poetic, definitely clichéd, but nevertheless an eye-catching sight.

The pink-coated form of Princess Cadance was a sight that brought unending relief to Twilight. It didn’t matter that her eyes were grinning like her lips, that he form walked without hurry, that she appeared to walk as if above the, that she stared more at the pegasus and unicorn than her own husband. All that mattered was that Cadance was here, so Shining could be saved.

“Cadance!” Twilight blubbered through her tears. “C-Cadance! Shining! He’s hurt, we have to help him! Macha must have hurt him!”

“I did not hurt him.” The pink alicorn spoke in a voice colder than the air from a mountain’s peak. “I killed him.”

All the relief and hope of saving her brother died like the storm outside. Next Chapter: Past Now Present Estimated time remaining: 44 Minutes