Princesses of Equestria

Chapter 15: The Day of the Storm

Along a small woodland track, Spike heard distant thunder.

"Huh?" He peered through the canopy overhead. Didn't seem like stormy weather. No trace of clouds past the thick leaves. Faint yellowish-blue coronas shifted in the clear sky, then faded, leaving only the eclipse. Her eclipse.

Spike shivered. It had been the first thing he'd seen that morning, sitting there like a great stab wound in the heavens, its pitch center framed by poisonous scarlet. Dawning inexorably from the east. From where Canterlot had once been. Nopony had said anything. Nopony needed to. That awful parody of sunrise spoke for itself.

The sun and moon had a new mistress, now.

And though everypony had resolutely packed their bags, formed a line, and continued their trek through Equinox Greens' woods without complaint, bound for the far off Heartstone, they'd one and all hunched beneath the weight of that eclipse's glare.

Well, everypony except Discord, who'd hunched beneath the weight of the canoe he'd pulled from behind his ear, asked: "Is this the red sea, or am I seeing red?" climbed inside, paddled on nothing and added, in totally faked surprise: "My word! It's all of the above!"

Stupid Discord. Spike chuckled, and felt a tiny bit better.

Behind him, Twilight yawned. "Get enough sleep?" Spike asked over his shoulder, then did a doubletake. Twilight wasn't merely tired. She was tense. Drawn. Haunted. He slowed his pace, falling in alongside her. "What's up, Twily?"

"Spike ..." A low, guilty whisper. "Yesterday I dreamed about her again."

An ice cold shudder ran through him. "Armonia?"

"No." Spike blinked. No? Twilight hesitated, realized what she'd said, bit her lip in frustration. "Yes. Before she went bad ... before Discord—"

Twilight furtively glanced round for signs of him or his canoe. He'd been paddling away at the head of the line with Rainbow Dash and Pinkie, but ... you know. He was Discord. He could pop up pretty much anywhere, anytime. Spike blanched, checking his frill for a shrunken draconequus stowaway.

Twilight, catching his drift, did the same with her mane, and almost ran hornfirst into Applejack, who'd stopped to listen in.

"Oh," she said, sidestepping to avoid a poke in the butt. "Y'mean Equus Nox." Even as Applejack spoke, she paled at the implications. "Did that varmint try anything, sugarcube? Force you to cast another spell? Trap you in a nightmare? Feed on more fear?" Applejack's teeth gritted. "Low-down brain-sucking parasite. If Ah ever see her again, by gum Ah'll—"

"She didn't try anything, Applejack. That's what puzzles me." Twilight shook her head. "I didn't see a nightmare. I saw her past. Equus Nox's past, not Armonia's. I don't even think she realized I did. It was like I was the one drawing upon her, not the other way around."

"I don't get it," said Spike, his eyes glazed over.

Twilight's haunted look returned. "I don't get it either." She rummaged in her saddlebags, extracted two of Equus's letters, stared from one to the other, stared as if they contained an enigma whose solution lay mere inches away.

"What happened to her?" The very first, scrawled with a child's earnest clumsiness, full of boundless hope. "She used to be so happy. So innocent ..." The second, though Spike hadn't read it, seemed neat, flowery, elegantly penned. Not unlike Twilight's script. Or his own. Anyway, neither letter exactly screamed 'FEAR ME!'

Applejack shrugged. "People change, Twilight."

"Yeah," she replied, putting the letters where they'd come from. "I just wish I knew why." Twilight made to keep walking, then noticed Applejack still wasn't moving. "By the way, what's the hold up?"