Ice cracked and webbed beneath, lurching echoes of footsteps in halls that had long been undisturbed. Banners hung mid-flap, stained glass windows chilled to the point where a bitter breath could shatter them into a thousand iridescent shards. The pair was only spared from suffering a similar fate to the statuesque bodies they awkwardly maneuvered around by the thick suits they wore, kept warm by canisters of raw Fire sewn into back pouches. “Grand Loremaster,” his attendant said whilst stepping over a prone unicorn, careful to keep his tail well away from its icicled horn, “I believe the crew will finish soon. The council wishes for a report—” “They will have their report.” The response sounded even-tempered, but the dragon’s teeth belied his irritation. “Despite living through it, their dispassion for history is exactly why most of them remain frozen to their seats in the old chambers.” He ignored his attendant rolling their eyes; it was one piece of history the Loremaster oft-repeated enough that even he could understand their annoyance. A gloved claw pointed at the dais they had been approaching, along with the lonely throne atop it. “She sat there, once, the Lightbringer. Mayhaps we will live to see her astride it again.” He turned to look at his subordinate. “That is why we are here, not for the council, not for ourselves, but for our people and all others under our protection.” He quashed any reply by turning and retracing his frozen steps. The throne remained, as splendid and cold as it had ever been. In a scant few minutes they reached observatory tower and begin climbing its spiraling staircase to the unfeeling heavens. The moon watched them ascend unblinkingly, surrounded by the halo of light they sought to free. The stillness was broken by the sound of something now otherwise extinct on the surface; Fire, burning bright and [i]hot[/i]. The taskmaster saluted as the pair stepped onto the landing. “Dogs are just finishing up, Grand Loremaster,” the wiry dragon said, head tilting towards the suited diamond dogs wielding blowtorches. Only distilled dragon Fire could melt through the enchanted frost holding the castle’s doors fast, and the dogs had proven valuable as a workforce. They were the only other race deep enough to survive the Freezing; even now the permafrost crept ever closer to their dens. The dogs were equally driven to find a solution, with diets that couldn’t subsist purely on minerals, nor could they escape the cold in lava pools. The dragons gave Fire, they provided labour, it was as mutually beneficial as they could hope for. A sound like breaking glass, if it was more pure in tone, sung from the doors as the dogs pulled them open. The air was filled with crystalline shards, beautiful and deadly in equal measure if they should puncture a suit. Great gouts of Fire banished them and, after a few safety sweeps of the flamethrowers, the all-clear was given. Stepping inside the observatory, the Loremaster allowed himself his first genuine smile in decades. Their bearers were frozen, but the Elements of Harmony upon them were untouched. “Bring them to the caves. Warm them up, [i]slowly[/i]. With fortune the Elements kept them alive.” The dogs quickly set to work with diligence and care, befitting his hand-picked choices. “Weren’t there only six Elements of Harmony?” his attendant said, gesturing to the remaining figure. Whereas the Elements looked like they’d been caught unawares, as other surface dwellers during the Freezing had, the seventh looked to be in the throes of weeping. Only ancient art showed her true form. “That is Luna, sister to the Lightbringer, no longer in the guise of Nightmare. It seems as if she could only appreciate the enormity of her actions in her final moments.” He looked back at his attendant. “Leave. Now.” A snarl surprised them enough to clear the doorway, which was quickly slammed shut. Now alone, the Loremaster carried Luna to the observatory’s deck. He set her down almost reverently. “I wonder if you’re still alive in there. I hope so, trapped deep in yourself like we are below the surface.” Grunting with effort, he wrenched free a chunk of ice-encrusted railing. “If you can, look upon your moon one last time and find all the spite and misery you have wrought upon yourself and the world.” He lifted his weapon high. “For Celestia, and for Twilight.” Spike brought it down, and through the moon’s fragments he felt the sun shine once more.