Twilight found Celestia waiting for her in the throne room. There was no light save that of the moon, washing through the tall stained-glass windows and casting the room in a dim, variegated glow. Celestia sat in her accustomed place on the great dais, but appeared to be dozing.

As she stepped forward, Twilight felt cold marble underhoof—the long red carpet leading up to the throne had been removed. The sound of hooves on stone echoed in the cavernous silence of the room, and Celestia stirred. She shifted in her seat, blinked her eyes, and when she saw Twilight, a faint smile crept across Celestia’s face. Her horn blazed, and a pair of golden lanterns behind the throne flared to life. “Twilight. Thank you for coming.”

Twilight felt her wingtips twitch. Something about the hollow, echoing chamber made her stomach twist. Then again, she’d often felt uneasy during the last few days. She gave the room a searching glance before drawing closer to the dais and the light. “Princess, are you sure you wouldn’t rather meet somewhere… I don’t know, somewhere maybe a bit friendlier?”

“No, my dear Twilight. This will be much more convenient, I promise you. And you really must learn to call me Celestia.”

“I know, Princess. It’s just ha—”

“Tonight, in particular, this is important, Twilight. Remember it.” Celestia smiled, softening her words. Then she gestured in front of her with one hoof. “Come, join me up here for a moment. We have much we need to discuss tonight.”

Twilight did as she was told, climbing the dais and sitting to Celestia’s left in the spot she had sometimes seen Cadance use. Somehow, the idea of sitting on the right—in Luna’s place—felt wrong to her.

Celestia nodded to Twilight. “Now, before we begin, did you finish the readings I suggested for you?”

For a moment, the weight of the night-shrouded room lifted, and Twilight found herself smiling back. “Yes, Pri—” She winced, and took a breath. “Celestia. I finished them two days ago.”

“And what did you think?”

“I really liked them. It’s been so long since you assigned me something to study, Princess. After the last few moons… Well, it’s nice to have a task where I know exactly what to do again.”

Celestia sighed. “I did not ‘assign’ those books to you, Twilight. I suggested them. And I know this may be difficult to hear, but now you’re past the time when you’ll ever know exactly what you must do. This is the burden of a Princess, and why your studies of the last few years have been so important.”

Twilight nodded along, and then froze. “Wait, do you mean you knew I’d—”

“In any case, I wanted you to tell me your thoughts about the readings themselves. Not your thoughts about being ‘assigned’ more books to read.”

Twilight took another deep breath. “They were… challenging. Celestia. I started with Foalberg’s treatise on moral reasoning. That wasn’t too bad. I don’t really understand some of his earlier ideas, though. Ponies choosing their actions purely to avoid punishment, or working for their own benefit at the expense of others? That… I don’t know, that just feels so strange to me.”

“Foalberg was writing at a very different time, Twilight. As with so many of our greatest thinkers, his ideas were an outgrowth of the environment in which he was raised. But have you never seen a foal, or even a young filly or colt, act in such ways? Did you never lie to your dam or sire, hoping to profit from it?

“I don’t think so. That would have been wrong.” Twilight turned her eyes away from Celestia and a light blush reddened her cheeks. “And Mom always knew everything I did without having to ask, anyway.”

Celestia laughed. “You are a rare pony, Twilight. Ever since you were little, you seemed more interested in right and wrong than anypony I’ve met in a very long time. But what did you think about Augeron of Hippo?”

“The idea of a just war? I’m not sure. I’ve never been very comfortable with the idea of war. I mean, I know ponies used to have wars against griffons and dragons, and sometimes even against each other, but that was so long ago nopony remembers it. Except you, pr— Celestia. And Luna, too, I guess.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Twilight. What did you think about Augeron?”

Twilight frowned down at her hooves. “His ideas weren’t totally new, were they? I mean, I remember Cavallo talking about that kind of thing once, too—a unicorn’s moral duties, particularly to her enemies. But that’s not really an answer, either.” She took a breath and raised her head, meeting Celestia’s gaze. “I think war is wrong. It’s all about hurting and killing. I don’t think that’s ever an acceptable answer. Murder is murder.”

“And what about when your home is attacked?” Celestia asked. “Do you not have a right to defend yourself?”

“I don’t…” Twilight paused. “I don’t think so. I’ve never faced a problem that the magic of Friendship couldn’t fix, somehow.”

“And what about Tirek?”

Twilight blinked. “What do you— Tirek?”

“Tirek imprisoned your friends, Twilight. He attacked and destroyed your home. He threatened all of Equestria. How did you respond?”

Twilight’s queasiness returned. “I attacked him. I was angry, and scared, and I didn’t know what to do.” She felt her wings twitch again. “But we did beat him in the end. And we did it with the magic of Friendship.”

“’We did beat him in the end,’” Celestia whispered, tasting the words herself. She looked away from Twilight, staring at one of the tall stained-glass windows.

Time stretched, and after a minute, the silence became too uncomfortable for Twilight. “Cel… Celestia?”

“Mmm?” Celestia turned back toward Twilight, her expression as serene as always.

“I was—” Twilight felt her chest constricting, like someone had fitted her with a dress saddle and cinched it too tight. “I was wrong, though, wasn’t I? What I did was wrong.”

Celestia smiled, but something about her expression gave Twilight a sense of inexpressible sadness. “That is not a question I can answer for you, Twilight. But I’m glad that you can ask it, nonetheless. Maybe that will help.” She gave a quiet sigh. “We have waited long enough. Come, let us join the others.”

Twilight opened her mouth to ask what Celestia meant, but before she could speak, Celestia’s horn glowed green and a soft rumbling echoed through the throne room. Behind the throne, and between the two lanterns Celestia had lit, Twilight saw the wall swing back to reveal a long, torchlit hallway.



The corridor ran for half a mile or more. Twilight lost track of the distance quickly as she and Celestia walked. There was little to see, and less to differentiate one minute from the next. The torches burned at regular intervals, six and a half steps from one pair of bracketed sconces to the next. The walls of the hallway were smooth, polished stone, and Twilight could see no hint of masonry.

“Are we inside the mountain?” Twilight’s voice didn’t echo here, the way it had in the Canterlot throne room. That seemed to soothe her nerves a little.

“Yes, Twilight. The place we’re going is very old, older than Canterlot Castle itself.”

Twilight frowned. “That seems— Wait, how old is the castle, anyway?”

“Nine hundred and sixty-four years old, I believe. Or maybe it’s nine hundred and sixty-three.” Without breaking stride, Celestia glanced back toward the corridor’s entrance and smiled. “It’s been my home for longer than anywhere else. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.”

“So before that…” Twilight hummed to herself. “Before that, when Luna was here, you lived in the Castle of the Two Sisters, yeah. But you left after she…”

“After she betrayed Equestria and became Nightmare Moon, yes. It seemed wrong to keep on as before.”

Twilight pulled to a stop. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, sure, she gave in to her fears and let Nightmare Moon take over, but saying she betrayed Equestria? You’re talking about Luna, your own sister. You know what she’s like. She wouldn’t betray Equestria.”

Celestia turned back, smiling. “Perhaps I was too hasty in chastising you for continuing to place me on a pedestal, Twilight. I’m glad to see you’re willing to challenge me if you think I’m being unfair.”

Twilight blinked. “I wasn’t! I mean—” Her words came back to her, and she blushed. “I mean, well, I guess. But Luna’s my friend, and I know she’s a good pony.”

Celestia gestured Twilight onward and began to walk once more. “And yet she threatened to cover our world with eternal night. You know what that would mean. It is neither better nor worse than if I were to leave the sun forever in the sky. Both would be catastrophic.”

“Yeah, but she’s Luna. She wouldn’t have really done it.”

“You truly believe this?”

The queasiness was back again. “No. I guess I don’t.”

“But you still deny that she betrayed Equestria?”

“I—” Twilight fell silent, and for long seconds the only sounds in the corridor were hoofbeats against stone. “I don’t know. I understand your point, Celestia, and maybe the words don’t really matter, but I feel like maybe we should make some allowance for what’s in a pony’s heart, and we both know Luna wouldn’t try to harm anypony if she had a choice.” She frowned. “I mean, she had a choice, but… Ugh. I don’t know.”

Celestia nodded, and again the hallway fell silent as they walked on. Then a pair of stone doors appeared in the distance and Celestia slowed, turning toward Twilight again. “Before we meet with Luna and Cadance, I suppose I should tell you a little about this place.”

Twilight’s heart leapt at the mention of Cadance and Luna, though she’d half-expected it after Celestia’s words in the throne room. Her elation was short-lived, however. The night’s events were doing little to ease her anxiety. She nodded to Celestia.

“Luna and I discovered this place many centuries ago, around the same time we discovered the Tree of Harmony. We believe that they are related. We have less understanding of the magic of this place, though, or how it may connect to the tree. Perhaps one day, you will learn more and be able to teach us about it.” Celestia stopped before the stone doors, and Twilight could see that they were heavy and unadorned. “Early on, Luna took to calling this place the Star Chamber. It’s a catchy name, and I’ve always liked it too. We use it for important discussions and making decisions, like—”

The two doors swung open, and Luna stepped out into the corridor. “You have said enough already, sister. More than you should, perhaps. Twilight must be allowed to form her own judgments.”

“I know. I just want…” Celestia sighed, hanging her head. “Yes, Luna. You’re right.”

Luna reached out a hoof and lifted Celestia’s muzzle. “All will be well, sister. Do not worry overmuch.”

On her own initiative, Twilight edged past Luna and Celestia, and stepped into the chamber. What she saw made her breath catch. The chamber beyond the doors was of moderate size, but a perfect hemisphere. Floating in the air, in the middle of the chamber was a stone carving of a six-pointed star. It was colored magenta, and a perfect match for the one in the Tree of Harmony—and, of course, for her cutie mark as well. She found this unsettling just as she’d found the Tree unsettling. She’d grown up thinking her cutie mark was the same as everypony else’s, just an abstract representation of some talent or idea. Every time she saw it appear in the deep magics of Equestria, it made her nervous. And it made her wonder, once again, what Celestia must have thought when she saw a little filly with that star on her flank. Or when she saw a Guard Captain with another one so similar, for that matter.

A flash of motion drew Twilight’s eyes, and belatedly she noticed Cadance sitting across the room, at a small desk that faced the star. Cadance was waving her hoof, trying to catch Twilight’s attention. Twilight glanced back at Luna and Celestia. The pair were still talking and neither seemed concerned with her, so Twilight trotted across the cavern to join Cadance. As she drew closer to the star, Twilight felt a wave of magic wash over her. She stopped and shivered, looking around the chamber.

“You felt it?” Cadance stepped away from her desk and gave Twilight a quick hug. “That’s just the star. It only affects a small area—not even the whole room. It…” Her voice trailed off. “It takes some time to get used to.”

Twilight stared at the stone construct again. It was rotating in the air, almost too slowly to notice, and it seemed to be lit from within by a soft glow. Twilight couldn’t understand that. How could light shine out through stone? “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Cadance said. “Neither do Celestia and Luna. It’s older than any of us. And it doesn’t really do a lot, not that anypony’s been able to figure out. Mostly, it just prevents you from saying anything you don’t believe.”

“What?” Twilight blinked.

“Try telling me you don’t resent me for taking Shining Armor away.”

Twilight shook her head. “But I don’t resent—” Her voice caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in surprise. She turned back to the star, raising her voice. “I don’t re— Aagh! I love Cadance! Why would I resent her for marrying my brother?”

Cadance ran a hoof down Twilight’s mane. “Because you used to be the most important mare in his life, and now you aren’t. And no matter how much you may like me, that stings.” She smiled at Twilight. “I know, because I resent you too. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, but part of my Shining’s heart will always belong to somepony else, even if I want him all to myself.”

Twilight frowned at the star, silent for half a minute. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I agree with your reason for why I’d resent you.”

Cadance let out a musical laugh. “It let you say that? Interesting. I’ve always wondered how you and the star would get along. But you’re right to doubt, Twilight. What I said isn’t necessarily true—it’s just what I believe. And I guess, from what you said, maybe I’ve been wrong. In part. Apparently you do still resent me for something.”

“But I don—” Twilight huffed when her protest was cut short once again. She gave her mane an irritated toss. “Anyway, I still love you. But I guess, you can say things that aren’t true, then? As long as you sincerely believe them?”

“It seems that way, yes.”

“So why were you and Luna waiting here for us?”

Cadance paused. “This is… Do you remember, from your history classes, the stories about back when Equestria had courts, and trials, and prisons?”

“Well, yes, but Celestia governs everything now. And Luna, and you, I guess. I mean, we don’t even have laws, really. Everypony knows what they ought to do. We haven’t had a functioning legal system in centuries. The last time anypony had a trial was—”

“Last Tuesday, actually.” Celestia stepped up beside Twilight, Luna following behind. “The courts did go away for a while, it’s true. But in the end, their absence caused too many problems. For many years, I made these sorts of decisions unilaterally, but I’ve come to realize that one pony rarely has all the wisdom necessary to make the toughest choices. Even when I was alone, though, I used this chamber. To keep me—and my decision-making—honest. But after Cadance became an alicorn, we returned to the old system that Luna and I first used.”

“I don’t remember reading anything about you and Luna conducting… I mean… That’s not really the issue, though, is it? If you want to hold trials, why all this secrecy? Why not just do it where everypony can see?”

Luna was the one to respond. “That is a fair question, but the arrangements my sister made over the last millenium have proven very stable for handling most issues of proper behavior. Ponies are not difficult to govern, and we can often go a generation or more without our people enduring anything truly terrible like a murder.”

The word made Twilight flinch. She’d read about murders. The last one had happened in Baltimare, back when Shining Armor was a foal. The killer had been banished from Equestria, she thought she remembered. Sent across the sea to live in the Griffon empire, or wherever else would take him. No one had heard from him after that.

“Here, we do not concern ourselves with those sorts of issues,” Luna continued. “We focus on harder questions.”

Celestia held up a hoof. “It is time to show her. Luna, Cadance, if you will return to your places?” Both the alicorns nodded and walked away, though Cadance gave Twilight a wan smile as she left. Cadance returned to her desk, and Luna proceeded to a matching desk on the other side of the star.

“Now Twilight,” Celestia said, “remember that you have nothing to fear. Answer honestly. The best way to learn what we do is by observing. Cadance and I did the same for Luna when she returned. Your part will be easier than hers was.” Celestia turned away from Twilight and walked toward a long dais with a row of stone seats.

“Twilight Sparkle.” Cadance’s voice boomed across the cavern from where she stood beside her desk. “You are called before us to answer for your behavior in the recent incident involving the centaur Tirek.”

The queasiness in Twilight’s stomach returned, many times stronger now. “But I saved us! Tirek is back in Tartarus now because of me!”

“Immaterial,” Cadance said. “Were you or were you not ordered to protect the magic of Equestria’s alicorns?”

“Of course I was.”

“And did you or did you not then recklessly choose to duel Tirek with that magic, causing substantial destruction to the land of Equestria and putting said magic in danger?”

“But it wasn’t like th—” Twilight’s voice cut off. She felt tears forming in her eyes. Of course. It was exactly like that.

“Did you or did you not,” Cadance repeated, “recklessly—”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did you or did you not sacrifice that magic to Tirek, when he offered to exchange it for the lives of your friends?”

“Yes.”

The cavern was silent for a moment, and then a rustle from the opposite side of the star brought Twilight’s head around. Luna was standing beside her own desk now, scanning through a small notebook. “The facts in this case are not disputed. There is something I wish to ask, however. Twilight, when you gave our magic to Tirek, did you think it was a good idea?”

Twilight stared toward the slowly rotating star. “I don’t kn—” Her voice cut out before she could finish her sentence.

“Apparently you do,” Luna said.

Twilight fell silent, casting her eyes to the floor, trying to think. She knew she’d wanted her friends to be safe, but—

“Twilight, try saying yes or no.” Celestia’s voice, quieter than the others, echoed across the cavern. “The process works best when you use the star to aid you in exploring your own feelings. If you think about the questions too long, you run the risk that you might convince yourself of something you hadn’t believed before.”

Lifting her head, Twilight swallowed and nodded.

“Did you think it was a good idea?” Luna repeated.

“Yes.”

Twilight heard sighs from all three alicorns, and the tension in the room seemed to ease noticeably. She wondered briefly what would have happened if she said no.

After a few moments, Luna spoke again. “Why?”

Twilight bit her lip and began to think. And stopped, glancing at the star once more. Celestia had said not to think too long. She wanted to follow Celestia’s advice. “Because helping my friends has never led me wrong so far. To abandon them to Tirek… I didn’t want to do it. But I don’t think I could, either. Learning about friendship is what made me a princess. Giving our magic to Tirek felt rig— Hmm. No. It felt foolish, but it felt like what I had to do anyway. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Luna nodded. “Did you have some notion that the Tree of Harmony might still provide help for you, if you made that decision?”

Twilight’s lips tightened. “I guess? I mean, we knew that we only needed one more key to open the chest it gave us. So if I made some sort of important sacrifice for friendship, I guess maybe I expected we’d find something else that could help us.”

“And is that why you bargained for Discord’s release? So he could provide you with a solution for beating Tirek?”

“I gue—” Twilight frowned. “No. No, I didn’t. I asked for Tirek to release Discord because Discord didn’t deserve what Tirek had done to him. And because Discord is…” She tried to say the words tentatively, wondering what would happen. “He’s my friend.”

“So you acted recklessly, but not without hope of eventual success,” Luna said.

“Yes. I think that’s fair.”

“And you acted in accord with the principles that made you a princess,” Celestia said.

Twilight glanced at the star again, a spear of worry piercing her heart. “Yes.” She nearly sighed when she heard the word spoken aloud.

Celestia stood from her chair. “Then I declare this matter settled. There is no need for us to act here. Are we agreed?”

“Agreed,” Luna said. And then an echo from Cadance, “Agreed.”

Celestia smiled and motioned for Twilight to join her on the dais. “Good. Then we can move on to our other two pieces of business.”



The chamber fell quiet as Twilight walked across it. Both Cadance and Luna returned to their desks and began sorting through scrolls and notebooks. For half a minute, the only sounds in the cavern were Twilight’s hooves clacking against the stone floor, and the crisp rustle of paper.

“Well?” Celestia spoke in a soft voice as Twilight took a seat beside her. “How do you feel, Twilight?”

“Anxious, mostly.” Twilight’s heart still pounded in her chest. “And a little angry, I guess. Why did we have to do that? I saved Equestria, didn’t I? Tirek is gone, everypony got their magic back. Why do I have to feel like I did something wrong?”

“Because you are a princess,” Celestia said. “It is your duty to watch over Equestria now. Our actions always have unforeseen consequences, even when we succeed at the tasks we take on. We must be diligent caretakers, and not grow so fond of our own wisdom that we fail to see the folly it may hide. Yes, you saved Equestria this time—as you have saved it before and doubtless will save it again. The same can be said for each of us in this room, even Cadance. We must seek the greatest good for our little ponies. And that is not always easy. How does one balance security against freedom, knowledge against innocence?”

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. “Do you mean you hide knowledge from other ponies? But that’s… that’s wrong!”

Celestia smiled. “And so you believe, apparently. But I do not; I believe there are times when knowledge provides no useful benefit to ponies, and innocence will serve them better.”

Twilight felt the blood draining from her face.

“I think you mistake me, Twilight. I am deeply committed to the ideals of freedom and knowledge. How can you doubt it, after all our time together? But there are instances—rare, perhaps, but they exist—when I believe security outweighs freedom, or innocence, knowledge.”

“I don’t…” Twilight swallowed. “I don’t know if I can accept that, Princess.”

“Celestia. And it is not yours to accept or reject. I merely state my beliefs. You are free to have your own. You should, you must have your own. That is how our system works. If Luna, Cadance and I always agreed, there would be no point to us meeting like this.”

“Then what is the point?” Twilight asked. “I still don’t understand what you—”

“Celestia, Twilight, I believe we are ready to begin again.” Luna’s voice echoed through the cavern, and Twilight let her words slip away. At a nod from Celestia, Luna continued. “I do not think we can afford to keep Tirek imprisoned in Tartarus any longer. The risk of escape is too great. In the last few years, we have seen time and again that imprisonment alone will not suffice to keep evil at bay. Tirek, Discord, Nightmare Moon. All three escaped their imprisonment, and all three in such a short span of time.”

“What do you propose?” Celestia asked. The question had the dull resonance of formality, as if Celestia already knew the answer but still wanted it spoken aloud.

“It is obvious,” Luna said. “He has shown himself too great a threat. We were fortunate to stop him this time. If his imprisonment cannot be trusted, if we cannot be sure of our ability to defeat him, then he must be killed.”

Twilight’s head spun, as if she’d been struck. She tried to leap up from her seat, but fell back on unsteady legs. “No! Never! Killing is wrong!”

Celestia reached out a hoof to calm Twilight. “Killing is wrong, Twilight. But sometimes we must do things that are wrong, to satisfy the greater good.”

“No. There must be something else we can do!” Twilight cast a panicked glance around the chamber. It was getting hard for her to breathe. Celestia and Luna looked back at her with sadness in their eyes. Cadance…

Cadance met her eyes, touched a hoof to her chest and breathed in. Then she pushed the hoof forward and breathed out. Twilight nodded back, matching the gesture. Once, then again, then again. Slowly, she felt her nerves beginning to calm.

“Are you all right now, Twilight?” Celestia asked. “Can you continue?”

“I don’t kn—” The words cut off like a knife, and Twilight stared at the slowly rotating star. She felt tears forming in her eyes. “N—” The pressure on her chest built again, and she did another one of her breathing exercises.

“Twilight?”

“Yes. Yes, I can continue. But I don’t want to.”

“Duly noted,” Celestia said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to, either. But this needs to be done. Cadance, present the facts for us.”

Cadance nodded and shuffled a sheaf of papers on her desk. “Tirek was successfully imprisoned in Tartarus for 1634 years, after his inital banishment by Star Swirl the Bearded. His escape lasted two years, and resulted in him draining the magic from 78% of the population of Equestria, including the entire Royal Guard, the former bearers of the Elements of Harmony, the Draconeqqus Discord, and all four of Equestria’s alicorns. Without intervention from the Tree of Harmony, he would have controlled all magic in Equestria.”

“Could he have been recaptured sooner?” Celestia asked.

This time, it was Luna who responded. “Yes, though I do not believe this point matters in a material sense. Tirek’s stated objective is to gather all the magic in Equestria, perhaps in our whole world. He will always seek to escape, and he will always seek to achieve this objective. Imprisoned in Tartarus, he is functionally immortal. Although he could have been recaptured sooner, it is also possible that we could have been slower to react—and I believe that if we had, Tirek would likely have achieved his objective. If we run the risk of him escaping again in the future, we will continue to face the possibility that he wins. And eventually he will. Eventually we will be unlucky, and he will emerge victorious.”

Celestia nodded. “Cadance, your thoughts?”

“I agree with Luna. We could have recaptured him sooner, but unless the situation changes, he will eventually escape and conquer Equestria.”

“And if that happens?”

“He will take everypony’s magic. Lifespans will probably stay similar. I assume the closest analogue to what we’d see is the Crystal Empire under King Sombra. It’s not clear what will happen to us.”

“Do you consider this an acceptable alternative?”

“No. The net loss of freedom and life if he were to rise to power is considerable, and over the long run he’s nearly assured to do so. Killing him is the greatest good for the greatest number.”

“You concur with Luna?”

“I do.”

“Wait, wait.” Twilight, tucked back against her stone seat, waved a hoof in the air. “You three think about things like this? Would it be acceptable for Tirek to rise to power?”

Celestia nodded. “We try to. We try to look at everything.”

Twilight tapped a hoof against her chin. “Okay, well, I don’t know if I followed everything, but I think maybe there’s a hole in Luna’s argument. Luna, you said he’ll always try to escape, and he’ll always keep the same objective, right? How do you know that? Doesn’t he have a right to come here and speak for himself, like I did?”

There was a pause before Luna answered. “Do you think that would matter, Twilight? With the star here, with him only able to say what he truly believes, do you think he would tell us otherwise?”

Twilight grimaced. “I guess not. But it feels wrong not to give him the chance. What if he did reform?” That word sparked in Twilight’s mind. Reform. She glanced around the room again, her eyes wide. “Um. Celestia? How do these decisions work? Am I free to just say what I think?”

“We usually try to keep discussion structured, so we can focus on what’s important,” Celestia said. “But if you wish to say something, Twilight, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Twilight nodded and stood. “Um, assembled princesses of Equestria? I mean… Okay. I don’t think we can kill him.” She scrubbed a hoof through her mane. “I mean, I still think killing is wrong. But I think I see the point you’re all making, and maybe that’s why Celestia wanted me to read those books on moral philosophy. But still, I don’t think we can do it.”

“And why not?” Celestia asked gently.

“Sorry, sorry. But here’s the thing. Luna’s right. We’ve had a lot of bad ponies—or bad creatures—escape from imprisonment over the last couple years. But Nightmare Moon, Luna, we brought her back, right? Luna’s not a danger to Equestria anymore. And even Discord. He was already starting to be safe, starting to be on our side, when he made friends with Fluttershy. After the events with Tirek, I think he’s really reformed. I mean, maybe Equestria isn’t totally safe with him around, but I don’t think he’s going to go conquering anypony or stealing their magic. So how do we know Tirek can’t be reformed?”

Luna frowned. “I… do not think Tirek is likely to reform, Twilight.”

“But how do you know? Can you honestly say you believe there’s no hope of him reforming?”

Luna stared at the star for a few seconds. “No, I cannot say that. Perhaps he can be reformed. But I do not think it likely.”

Twilight nodded. “That’s fair. But I don’t think that’s enough to justify killing him. I think we have to give him the chance. We have to try to reform him. And if that doesn’t work… Well, maybe we’ll have to do it your way. But killing is wrong, and we’ve got to try to avoid it if we can. We’ve got to at least give him a chance.

Celestia smiled. “I think I agree with Twilight. So, at the very least, Luna’s plan isn’t approved. We can revisit it later, after we’ve had a chance to try to work with Tirek. It sounded like the arguments in favor of killing him were mostly answers to long-term risks, anyway, so waiting a few years probably won’t hurt. Thoughts?”

“I think that’s fair,” Cadance said. “I guess… maybe I’m a little paranoid about the whole ‘Second Reign of Sombra’ thing, after what the crystal ponies have told me. I want to avoid that, but if we can find a way to reform Tirek, so much the better.”

Luna shook her head. “I still don’t think it’s going to happen, sister. I think we’ll be right back here in one or two years time, trying to make the same decision. Tirek has too much hate in him. He won’t let himself be reformed.” She took a deep breath. “But I agree. I see no harm in waiting, provided we don’t wait too long.”

Twilight felt herself start to grin. She’d saved someone. She’d saved… Tirek. Again, queasiness settled into her stomach. She’d saved Tirek from the princesses of Equestria, but Luna had made good arguments. Twilight didn’t know how to feel. Part of her was excited by what she’d done—changed the minds of her fellow alicorns, kept them from committing a terrible act. But another part of her, more detached, felt sick. She was excited because she’d had some creature’s life in her hooves, and she’d managed to save it. That didn’t feel like the type of decision she, or anypony else, ought to be making. And yet, if she wasn’t willing to make it, who would? Could Equestria afford not to have anypony making those sorts of decisions?

“You look pale, Twilight.” It was Celestia’s voice again. “Are you all right?”

Twilight swallowed. “I think I understand what you were trying to say, Celestia. About the weight of our decisions.”

Celestia nodded and gave Twilight another reassuring touch with her hoof. “Try not to worry too much. You’ll grow used to this in time, and we only have one more case to discuss today.”



Again, silence fell over the chamber. This time, however, there was no rustling of papers. Luna and Cadance both stared expectantly at Celestia, who seemed more anxious than Twilight could remember seeing her before.

Eventually, it was Cadance who spoke. “Celestia, you told us you had a third issue you wanted to present tonight. Isn’t that why we’re here? Both the situation with Twilight and the situation with Tirek could have waited.”

Twilight again found herself wondering what might have happened if she’d answered the other princesses’ questions differently.

“Yes.” Celestia sighed. “And it needs our swift attention. But it is not a thing I enjoy discussing. You will understand soon. All of you—Luna, Twilight, Cadance—you must be strong for what is coming.”

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but Celestia continued on. “I ask leave to bring another pony into the chamber, to bring us news of the caribou.”

At Celestia’s words, the reactions from Luna and Cadance were as different as night and day. Cadance looked around the room in confusion and asked, “Who are the caribou? I’ve never heard of them.”

Across the room, Luna wore a look of horror. Her jaw was slack, her eyes unfocused, and her hooves trembled against the stone floor. When she spoke, her words were thin and misty. “They are… dead. All of them. We made sure of it.”

Celestia sighed. “They are not, Luna, however much you’d like to believe it. It seems they have had some magic that allowed them to escape my detection until now—which bodes very ill. But I need an answer to my question, for the sake of protocol. Can I bring Seaworthy here to tell us what she’s seen?”

Cadance assented, and then Luna, though she looked like she regretted doing so. Then Celestia turned to Twilight.

“You should agree, too, Twilight. I think tonight will be easier if we try to approach it through the rules we’ve laid down for our discussions here.”

“O-Okay,” Twilight said, though she still didn’t feel like she understood those rules. “If you want somepony to come talk to us, that’s fine by me.”

Celestia nodded. “Thank you, Twilight.” The white alicorn’s horn shined with energy, and a bubble of light formed at the foot of the star. It popped with a sound that echoed around the chamber, revealing a blue middle-aged mare.

At first, Twilight thought Seaworthy must be an earth pony. Then she saw the low stump on her forehead. Her mind squirmed away from what it was seeing. A unicorn, but one whose horn had been cut.

“Seaworthy, thank you for coming to speak with us,” Celestia said.

Seaworthy’s voice was like scree at the base of a mountain. “No need to thank me, Princess. I had to live it. Saying it can’t be any worse than that, and it’s important you all know.”

The cavern fell silent, and Celestia gave a little cough. “Cadance, would you please ask Seaworthy to recount her experiences?”

Cadance blinked, turning her eyes away from the snub-horned unicorn. “Wha— Oh, yeah. Of course.” She shook her mane quickly, returning her attention to Seaworthy. “Ma’am, could you tell us who these caribou are, and how you came to encounter them?”

Seaworthy nodded. “For the last ten years, I’ve made my living through trade between Baltimare and the Camel nations south of Griffonstan. I own—I owned—a ship, a big three-master. Saltlick, my crew and I called him. This summer, though, we got hit by a typhoon during the crossing and Saltlick got blown off course. I think we must have gone too far south. It’s hard to tell.

“In any case, we started running short on supplies before we spied land. We needed to find somewhere to gather some hay and refill our water. And we found an island, out in the sea. Big, but not on any map I’ve ever owned. We figured we must have discovered something. So I took about half my crew and went ashore. And they picked us up, right on the beach. The caribou, that is. Picked us up, and put us in chains, and burned my ship where it sat on the waves, waiting for us to come back. I don’t know how they did that. Don’t suppose it much matters, really.

“They took us back to one of their cities—a big ugly thing, all stone and metal, and dark as a moonless night. And that’s when things got bad.” Seaworthy closed her eyes for a moment.

“I mean, I suppose they were already bad, when they burned my ship, but I thought maybe somepony could have esca—” The word cut off, and Seaworthy stared around the room. “Could have esca— Why can’t… why can’t I say it?”

Celestia wore a sad expression. “It’s the magic of this place, Seaworthy. It’s why we’re here. You can only say what you truly believe. And apparently you don’t believe your crew could have escaped.”

Seaworthy scratched her neck with one hoof, but seemed to take Celestia’s words in stride. “That’s funny. I would have sworn I believed it, on the beach that day. I guess after what happened to the rest of us, though, I stopped believing.”

“Could you please continue, ma’am?” Cadance asked in a shaky voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” Seaworthy said. “So they took us to the city. Then they separated the mares and the stallions in my crew. I figured they must have planned to take us different places, but no. They just killed the stallions, there in front of us. Soon as they got us separated. Said they had no use for ‘em. Then… well, most of my crew was earth ponies. They didn’t have it quite so bad. Me, though, they sawed off my horn quick as they could. They had something to stop my magic until then, some sort of device they stuck on me when they found us on the beach, but they wanted my horn gone, like it offended them. They were cruel about it, but they were cruel about everything. My first mate was a pegasus, too, and she got her wings clipped.” Seaworthy paused, and gave a dark laugh. “’Clipped’. That’s what they call it. But they just tear ‘em off, right at the joint. She barely survived the pain, and she couldn’t stop crying for near two weeks afterward.”

Twilight hugged her hooves to her chest. “That’s awful. No, that’s… I don’t even have a word for that.” She whispered, but her voice seemed to carry across the chamber. “How can you be so calm about it? They took your horn!”

Seaworthy shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much point crying over it now, and I did my fair share back then. I just—” She glanced around the chamber at the four princesses. “I just want ‘em dead, so they can’t hurt anypony else.”

“All of them?” Luna asked.

“Well, maybe a few of them are goo—” Seaworthy grimaced as her words cut off. “Yeah. All of them. I want ‘em all dead.”

Intellectually, Twilight felt like she ought to have been horrified by that, but she wasn’t. She shivered.

“There is more,” Celestia said sadly.

“No!” Luna’s voice rang across the cavern. “I know what the caribou do to their slaves. Cadance and Twilight do not need to hear it.” Her body quivered with anger.

Celestia looked between the two youngest princesses and nodded. “I agree. We can address that topic at another time. But still, there is more. Seaworthy told me the caribou are building boats for an invasion. We do not know whether they mean to attack Equestria or some other land, but I think it hardly matters.”

The cavern was as silent as the mountain that housed it. “We need to eradicate them,” Luna said.

Celestia nodded, but her words were measured. “That’s a dangerous decision, Luna. You know how strong their magic is. We four couldn’t stop them alone. We would need to send Equestria to war again.”

Luna swallowed. “I know. But I think we must do it.”

Celestia turned to the other side of the chamber. “Cadance?”

The pink alicorn had been silent for a few minutes now, and when Twilight turned to look, she saw Cadance trembling in her seat, her eyes shut and her hooves gripping a small box on the desk. Twilight recognized the box as a gift Shining Armor had given her, though she didn’t know what it contained.

“Cadance?” Celestia asked again.

“I—I…” Cadance stuttered. “I don’t want to— How can creatures like that exist? How can anything show so little love?”

“Do you agree with Luna?” Celestia asked. “Do you approve of sending Equestria to war?”

“I don’t… I don’t think I should answer that yet, Celestia. I’m not in control of my feelings.”

Celestia nodded, and swung her head to Twilight. “And how about you. Do you agree with Luna, Twilight?”

Seaworthy stood in the center of the chamber, staring up at her. Twilight stared back, even as she wanted to shrink into herself and disappear. If Seaworthy were to be believed—and how could she not be believed, here of all places—there was nothing redeeming about these caribou. They were evil in its purest form. They were many times worse than Sombra, or Tirek, or anything else she’d faced.

“I agr—”

She grunted as her words cut off. She stared up at the star with a look of horror. “But I’m terrified. Any creature that can cut a horn off a unicorn or tear the wings off a pegasus—and enjoy it! I hate them! Luna’s rig—”

Twilight shot a panicked look around the room. “We have to ki— For pony’s sake, why can’t I say it!”

Celestia gave her a sad smile. “Because you are the kindest of us four, Twilight. Because you are what Equestria most needs.”

“But they’re evil! They have to be stopped!”

“Stopped. Yes, that is what your heart truly believes. But you cannot condone killing them, can you?”

Twilight shivered, staring at the star at the room’s heart. “I… can. I can, Celestia. I can condone killing them.” She hung her head. “But only if we’re entirely sure there’s no other choice.”

Seaworthy coughed. “Maybe it’s not my place to talk here, but that’s just stupid. What she said before was right. They’re evil. The only way to deal with them is killing.”

“Perhaps.” Celestia sighed. “But this is for us four to decide. Thank you, Seaworthy. I will talk with you more tomorrow.”

Seaworthy nodded, though she looked sullen. Celestia’s horn glowed once again, and the snub-horned unicorn vanished in another bubble of white light.

“She’s correct, though,” Luna said after Seaworthy was gone. “Eradication is the only way. You know what the caribou are like, sister.”

“I do.” Celestia turned to look at Twilight, who still sat shivering in her stone chair. “But I also believe that Twilight coming to us is no accident. I’ve known her many years, and over those years, I’ve found that her judgment is often better than my own. Her sense of morality has saved Equestria more than once. It did with Tirek. Who knows what would have happened, had she not chosen to act as she did.” Celestia laid a hoof over Twilight’s own. “I think we need to ask Twilight what she thinks we should do.”

Twilight trembled, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. “It’s… It’s the same as with Tirek, isn’t it? We have to try to get them to stop. To change.”

“But they won’t!” Luna’s voice carried a note of panic. “They hate us. They will never listen to us. They are evil.”

Twilight shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Luna. We have to try. We can’t make plans to kill them unless we exhaust all other options. Even if it’s hopeless. If we don’t try to find a better way, we betray our nature as ponies.”

Luna grunted, and shook her mane. “I cannot acce—” She grunted again, when her voice cut off. “I do not want to accept this.”

“Cadance?” Celestia asked.

Still trembling, Cadance stood from her seat. “I… I think Twilight is right. I don’t want her to be right. I want to kill them. I think I probably know what they do with their slaves. But Twilight is still right. Love is something for every creature, no matter how vile. We have to try to show them what love means.”

“Then who will we send?” Celestia asked, in a voice that could barely be heard across the chamber.

The room was silent. Twilight stared at the star again, suspended in the center of the room, rotating slowly. She felt black tendrils of fear scrabbling across the surface of her mind. The star wouldn’t let her speak unless she sincerely believed what she meant to say, right? If she didn’t sincerely believe it, the star would stop her. She sucked in a ragged breath.

“I should be the one to go.”