“It is only a myth!”

“This is no myth, my dear friend. If I cannot act, I fear a soul will end.”

“You dare use the Weaver’s Tongue on me, Little Shade? You would leave your tribe? Your people? Everything you have known? To follow a path laid by both lunatic and fool?”

“My old friend, I am the last one who remains. If I do not go, then the Lost One will be forever in chains. I have made a sacred pact. I refuse to simply remain when I could act.”

“If you do this, you will do it alone.”

“My worried friend, I am used to walking such roads alone. You need not worry that I have no chaperone.”

“But the journey you take is hard. I worry for you. I’m afraid.”

“Fear may freeze us, that is a mortal’s lot. To act despite this is what we are taught.”

“You know… I remember when you couldn’t even string a few words together in the Weaver’s Tongue. Now, you’ve taught it to scores. Sometimes… I miss that filly, Little Shade.”

“Some nights pass when I think of that young one as you do. Yet I know where I must walk and the nature of that avenue. My wise friend, fear not that I may fall. Fear instead what may happen if I stall.”



Though there were neither living pony nor breathing zebra within leagues of where she now walked, the Weaver continued on the Path. She did not look at her constant companion, a wizened figure robed in starlight and shadow. It continued to walk beside her, as it had for years now. In a way, it helped her to know she was not truly alone on this course.

In another way, the figure reminded her just how alone she was and what she had left behind. She appreciated the ironic duality of her companion’s presence. Seer Zettanai would have likely spoken long of the deep philosophical import of her companion on this particular journey.

Zecora likely would have fallen asleep after the first three hours. Zettanai’s rambling musings would drive even the Skysinger into a stupor.

The underbrush rustled to her right. The zebra froze for an instant before she slipped a small blue vial from the small holster on her right foreleg. With a whispered word, the light on her bottom anklet dimmed to nearly nothing, allowing the shadows to creep in on all sides. Moonlight and starlight pierced the canopy above and her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

“What is this beast lurking now nearby? Do I name it enemy or ally?” she whispered.

Her shadowed companion said nothing in response. It would have been peculiar to hear him speak after this many years. He just stood there, watching the Path.

The underbrush rustled once more and Zecora took a few steps back. Then she caught the scent.

With a faint grow, she fetched an orange vial from the pouch. She inhaled through her nose and readied the last of her Unbinding Brew. When it almost slipped from her hoof, she nearly cursed, but caught herself. She dare not blaspheme in a place such as this. To do so would attract even more unwanted attention from the darkened night.

“I know what you are, foul beast,” she declared to the twitching greenery laced with moonlight. “Leave now, lest my wrath be unleashed. I do not have time for games of hide and seek and you will find my brews far from weak.”

Bright pupilless green eyes opened in the darkness. The growl came next, as expected. Then the timberwolf stepped out of the thick brambles and shadowed bushes. Its wooden claws clicked on a stone as it sized her up. Its body of branches, leaves and wood shifted slightly as it prepared to pounce.

She did not flee, though she could not repress a shiver.

It wasn’t the first she had encountered since entering this vast wilderness. And only a fool would treat these spirits of the earth with anything other than respect.

However, respect did not prevent action.

With a deft flick of her hoof, she popped the cork to the vial and threw it at the timberwolf’s claws.

The timberwolf’s burning green eyes narrowed as a puff of orange smoke rose from the shattered vial. It took another step forward, preparing to pounce on its prey. Then it sniffed at the rising cloud.

Once… twice… thrice…

With a pop, the light from its eyes vanished. The faint green shimmer running through its body fled into the forest, leaving nothing more than a crumbling collection of leaves, sticks and branches.

The zebra took a deep breath and sighed. She dare not tarry any further. With a glance up through the foliage, she could see the rising Moon. She had only a few hours to reach the appointed place. If she failed—

No. Down that road of thought lay dark things. She did not walk that path.

The Pact must be fulfilled. The Promise must be kept.

The Path must be followed.

No matter the cost.

A whispered word brought forth the gentle glow of her anklet once more and she tread deeper into the chaotic forest, her silent shadow ever at her side.

---

“I… am not… I cannot bear this, my dear teacher! Please, do not depart and leave me here!”

“Ah, dear Little Shade… your Weaver’s Tongue has become so strong… I wonder if you are even capable of the People’s Tongue now. It is now part of your soul. Of your very spirit. I am proud to have passed it to you, though I miss my gift of the rhyming songs.”

“I would return it in a heartbeat to give you back your breath! Mshauri, please renounce the lands of Death!"

“Such things, once done, cannot be undone, Little Shade. I had hoped to… I had—”

“You continue to strain yourself by speaking so, yet it pains me that there is nothing I can do… nothing that I know.”

“No, the water is enough. Thank you, Little Shade. I… had hoped to be the one to stand beneath the Moon at the appointed time. But it seems the Balance wills it to be you. Though I will not stand under the starlight… I have been honored to teach you to walk the Path.”

“What joy is there walking the Path, if no companions join to laugh?”

“I may soon pass beyond... the beautiful Veil, but I know that at your journey’s end, you will find those which will give you joy once more.”

“But all must be left behind, if my destiny is thus defined.”

“Destiny is never set in stone, Little Shade. There is only choice and potential. Even prophecy cannot be counted upon. My teacher once told me, ‘Prophecy is a guess that comes true. When it doesn't, it's a metaphor.’”

“But all of your teachings have led to this moment! Of inaction you cannot be a proponent!”

“I believe. As I know you— you— you do. No, I need not another drink. I… ask that… you take the anklet, now. Do not look at… me like that, Little Shade. We both know I depart soon for… the Veil. Your companion awaits. He is… strange. But you will become… accustomed to him. In time. He will point the way, as he… has for generations of those on the Path.”

“I’ve done nothing to deserve this boon. You cannot believe me worthy so soon.”

“You are wise… beyond your years, Little Shade. Far wiser than I… and wiser still that you do not… know your own wisdom. It is time for you…. to step into the light with your head high and… your heart ready. Walk the… Path that leads through moonlight… into starlight… and… ends in sunlight. Walk the Path. And… no matter what… never blame yourself…”

“Mshauri… why must you grow so still? If you linger, know I yet walk the Path… I will.”



The Moon rose bright even as its shadow darkened. The hill deep within the gnarled expanse of tree and bush made an excellent vantage point to see both earth and sky. But what dominated the sky was the shape coating the surface of the great silvery orb. The magic pulled at her. It was strange to feel a magic so raw, but even now, her anklets nearly danced in anticipation. She wondered if this is what the unicorns felt when they held potential magic in their horns.

And yet, beyond the magic in the air, there was so much magic in Mother Earth it made her very spirit shiver in delight. It was the power of life unrestrained. Wild. Unpredictable. Alive. So many wonders lived within this place, matched only by the dangers lurking in every overgrown copse. Miracles and damnation both slipped between the trees and bushes at the foot of the hill.

She yearned to release the power. Let it fly and watch the result… though she knew the possible cost of her act.

It was not the appointed time. A single glance at the shadow at her side told her that. It was looking up at the Moon with a strange expression on its translucent features. In the end, she could only sense her companion’s emotions. She could not see them through the shadows.

Flashes of memory flickered by, as had happened more and more in the last several weeks. Where once it had been only one at a time, now they rushed through her mind with the speed of a hurricane.

Pain: A pale crescent moon on a blue field.

Sorrow: A weeping pale pink eye.

Resolve: An angry rainbow.

Focus: A bell on blue fabric.

Intensity: A stone tablet.

Hope: A tree of light.

When Zecora regained her senses once more, she was lying on the grass, staring up at the great Moon.

Her companion stood over her. Now, it looked down upon her. For a moment, she thought she saw something sparkle where its eyes should be. Perhaps compassion, perhaps gratitude, perhaps something else entirely.

Movement caught her eye in the sky as a single star shifted of its own accord, as if eager to be about its business.

Zecora smiled. It was good to see that at least one of the Four Aides were staring at the same night sky as her. Staring at the same shadow and the same stars.

“We are nearly there and we have come far. Still, a task remains before the path we can unbar.”

Her companion remained silent. As expected.

She slowly got to her hooves and looked to the west. A great spire shone in the moonlight. A single broken tower, the south side missing entirely, crenellations barely intact from over a thousand years of decay and neglect. Through the gloom, she could see the rickety stone staircase leading to the partially intact upper level. The tower had almost been consumed by the great forest. But even from here, Zecora could sense the power within. This structure had not been made by mortal means. Powerful and ancient magics had gone into its construction.

To be sure, she lifted her left foreleg. As expected, the topmost anklet glimmered with the ancient scripts of the pony nation. Each curving letter of the long-lost language shone with a light that invoked both Sun and Moon.

Zecora had studied each letter down to the smallest nicks in the metal since she had first step hoof on the Path. Despite the threat, despite the danger, despite the dissent…

If she were a zebra who believed in such things, she would have said it was her destiny to be here.

Zecora did not. She believed in potential and choices, as her dear teacher had. She had the potential to be here. She had made the choice to be here.

The ironic thing was that in the end... the result was the same.

She moved down the hill and back into the forest, her silent companion at her side.

---

“By choosing this path, you risk much, Zecora.”

“I know my choice and I know what must be. I have never expected those in power to agree.”

“This is not a matter of power, young one. What those of the Path often neglect to remember is the middle of the legend. The middle of the ‘prophecy.’ Do not look at me like that. The Path is not the only group who knows the legends of the pony races. Hmph. By the Everlasting Balance, even the ponies have all but forgotten the truth. The tale is little more than a bedtime story to frighten foals!”

“I have studied the legend word for word. I know what we must do… and what must be endured.”

“Do you? I doubt it. Take a closer look at what happened the first time. The first time, we prepared for war. We were going to march on Equestria itself. Our sky burned longer every day! Chaos gripped the streets! There are many who know the Old Tales. Many who would see you in chains, especially as the time approaches. There are even extremists who believe all those who follow the Path should be eradicated.”

“…You would do such a thing to your own kin? Erase us as though we had never been?”

“I am not among those, Zecora. As you well know. But by accepting Zuiia as your new Mshauri, you set yourself against them. Finally, I see it in your eyes. Yes. You should be troubled. This could have dire consequences not only for you, but your family… perhaps even your entire tribe.”

“And what of our sacred responsibility? Do you ask us to abandon it and flee? We were given this charge by the greatest mage the world has ever known. Only by fulfilling the Path will we be able to reap what we’ve sown.”

“You will reap an end to us all. He was mad. Stricken by grief at the loss of one of his dearest friends, stricken twice by seeing the pain in her sister’s eyes. It’s an elaborate, desperate gamble, to save a single pony. We aren’t even speaking of one of our kind! This is an outsider!”

“An act of kindness should require no eyes, for if one’s heart is pure, there can be no disguise.”

“Ugh, you and your damnable Weaver’s Tongue! You are as stubborn as Zuiia! You threaten to doom us all with this madness. I know the time. I know that it will end up being you, not Zuiia who takes the long journey to Equestria. And I cannot say what will await you in the end there. You may even be forced to lift a hoof against your kin, Zecora. Even if not, dark shadows lurk the places you will tread. Do yourself a favor… and try not to be eaten by one of them, you dense fool. Your mother would never forgive me.”

“Uncle, I thank you for your kind guidance, yet I must pursue the Path no matter the resistance.”

“Stubborn mare… you are your mother’s child. Still… you have been set on this path since your glyph came to you. But… I beg you… at least try and be safe.”

“I will seek safety in all that I do, no matter what I face… no matter who.”



The steps leading up to the old tower were broken and cracked. The forest had tried to reclaim the stone of this place, but the stone had resisted even the strongest root. With every hooffall, Zecora could feel the magic swelling up from Mother Earth. It danced along her coat and swirled along her glyph. It felt wonderful. Despite the age, she could feel the very life of this place.

If she squinted hard enough in the darkness, she could almost see the ancient Royal Guard on their patrols, moving to and fro. Then again, perhaps it was another ‘gift’ of her companion. She glanced at him as she maneuvered up the steps. He seemed darker somehow, as if more shadow than stars filled his strange form.

She felt the impulse to pause halfway up the stairs and did as she was bid. Her companion glided on silent hooves up to the entrance of the tower. From her vantage, she could see the stars of the night through the translucent silhouette of the robed unicorn. Shadows swirled between stars—both real and magic—in her companion’s form. It looked up into the sky, into the face on the Moon.

Into the reason.

There was hesitation. A sense of fear. A memory of a beam of dark magic striking her in the chest, a memory she knew not to be her own. She shivered and the motion sent both her anklets and her neckrings jingling ever so softly.

But she knew the message. Pain brought by the familiar.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled out a pair of small vials and a single large flask. She hoped she would not be required to use them. She hoped that words would be enough.

She knew in this, her hope was likely foolish.

She stepped through her companion and looked into the ruined tower.

The forest had done more to reclaim the tower than Zecora had thought possible. The stone beneath her hooves had all but been absorbed by a thick layer of purple and blue grass. An empty archway that led off a crumbling cliff opened to the east. The stones aside from the single standing wall were perhaps twice as high as she was. Above her head rose the decaying stone steps that lead to the top of the tower.

To her surprise, a small tapestry remained intact, protected from the elements by a narrow overhang on the other side of the tower.

It was a beautiful thing. Woven with deep golds and whites, now faded by time. It showed the forgotten sun and the two alicorns known to all those who walked the Path.

But there was something far more beautiful here. In the very center of the grassy circle that had once been the tower’s floor, lay a single Moon Lantern, only now barely a blossom of its full potential. Glittering motes of green and blue light flitted about it like fireflies, though Zecora knew them to be only the flower’s magical nature pulling on Mother Earth’s own power.

Three stones stood around the flower, each of them glowing white with the same Zebrican rune.

Protect.

Zecora nodded, more to herself than anyzebra else.

“Come forth and reveal yourself to me, for you know I will not flee,” she called in a solemn voice.

The shadows to her right and to her left coalesced into the shape of two worn-looking zebras, a mare and a stallion. Both of them wore stained and frayed travel cloaks in the traditional desert style. And both zebras looked ragged from days worth of hard travel. Zecora knew she looked much the same, but there was something about their eyes that bespoke a different—and far harder—road than she.

After all, they had needed to reach this place before she did.

“We cannot allow you to follow the Path any longer, Weaver,” said the stallion. “Your actions would destroy us all.”

She knew the voice. She pulled back her traveling cloak’s hood to address him with the proper respect. “You are Zerrin of Pommelwane. You are quite far from your own terrain. I have heard tales of your great deeds sung, yet you fail to address me with a Weaver’s Tongue.”

“You are not worthy of being addressed in the Weaver’s Tongue, witch!” snarled the mare to her left. “You are not worthy to speak it yourself!”

“Zelabra!” snapped the stallion. “We came a long way, but you will not speak to a Master Weaver in such a way! She is still to be honored for her station!”

“She should be stripped of her title. She already burned her bridges! She spat on us all with her mad quest! She will be the death of our people! She is a harbinger of the end!”

Zecora smiled slightly, glancing at her companion, who now stood silent beside her. It was watching the two. It almost seemed amused as they bickered.

“So, you would be the youngest of Zerrin’s tribe, I assume? And who would suspect you have such volume?”

The mare took a step forward and yanked out a vial of frothing red from beneath her cloak. Her bright green eyes glittered like shards of broken glass in light from the Moon Lantern.

“Do not dare speak to me, witch! I have no compulsions about seeing you locked away for a lifetime for what you are willing to do this night. If I have my way, you’ll never return home.”

“You will not dissuade me from my path, no matter how hot you’ve stoked your wrath.”

“Master Weaver, I beg you—” Zerrin began, but Zecora lifted a hoof. She was impressed—and honored—when he actually stopped.

“I have believed as I do for many a year. What you do now, you do out of fear. I tell you now to save you time: there is nothing you can say to alter this paradigm.”

“If we cannot dissuade you… if there is no recourse….” Zerrin spoke slowly, his voice slipping into the Weaver’s Tongue, though Zecora was unsure if it was out of respect or fear. “Then your actions dictate we must use force.”

She nodded her head sadly.

“So be it!” the hot-blooded mare shouted.

Zecora could almost admire Zelabra’s fervor. It was nearly as strong as her own. Zecora’s was just… quieter. Hers was tempered by long years and wise teachers.

Zelabra had passion.

Zecora had experience.

Through the years, she had learned many things in her pursuit of the Path. One of many lessons—one of her Mshauri’s favorites, in fact, was that passion tended to make mistakes.

Zecora downed the flask and tossed it away. It was halfway to the floor when the world stopped. Awareness flooded her. She could see every crack in the stone, every spot of color within the ruined tower, the beads of sweat upon Zelabra’s coat and the stain of zebra blood on the mare’s travel-worn cloak.

These thoughts passed through her like a warm wind.

Zelabra’s movements had slowed to a crawl.

With the Swiftstep Brew, she could strike down the younger mare before in a matter of seconds. It would be a simple thing. A mere moment’s thought.

Yet the Path was about being willing to sacrifice to save others, not harm others. She could not do so and still walk the Path.

So, she allowed Zelabra to get close enough, sidestepped around her and uncorked a vial directly beneath the mare’s nose.

The Swiftstep Brew faded. Zelabra looked confused for a second, turned to face Zecora… and collapsed with a sigh.

“She has quite the temper, even for one so young. Now, stand aside, for I do what must be done.”

“I know you would not hurt her,” Zerrin said, though Zecora could hear the anger in his words. “So I must ask… Catnap Elixir?”

Zecora nodded.

“Thank you for your restraint,” Zerrin said with a bow. “But I cannot allow you to release this taint.”

“I plead with you to not stand in my way. You must know that from the Path I will not sway.”

“Why are you so determined?” Zerrin asked. “You know what would become of a world darkened. You are gambling all lands near and far on the well-wishes of a pony most bizarre. He has long passed from this world, and only now do his plans become unfurled.”

“Young Weaver, I must know before we begin this dance, do all those among your clan agree with her stance?”

Zerrin wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Because there are many who still believe,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Of what might be and what you might achieve.”

“I do this because I made a promise. I swear to you I do not believe this to be hopeless.”

Zerrin was silent for a long time. Zecora prayed to the Mother Earth and the Everlasting Balance that he would see reason. It would bring her much sorrow to bring down another Weaver. Zerrin was gifted and his skill with alchemy and potions was unmatched. Even Zecora herself had learned much from the papers the young stallion had published. He was a prodigy.

She was unsure if she could forgive herself if she was forced to injure him for the sake of the Path.

And yet… time was running out. She could feel the magic pulsing around the Moon Lantern and around her glyph. Her companion stood at the foot at the stairs, watching the two of them. Her anklets shivered and shook. She glanced up at the sky and realized with both joy and sorrow that the time was upon her.

Three stars now moved in the heavens, separate from the motion of the world. One bright one spot, steady and still.

“You would do this on the promise of a dream?” the other Weaver’s voice was a mere murmur, barely audible over the forest around the tower. “Even knowing it may not be what it may seem?”

“My first lesson I learned when I was made my Mshauri’s charge: fight for your dreams and always dream large.”

Another silence. This one, far shorter.

Then, Zerrin slowly walked toward the three stones surrounding the Moon Lantern. With a deft flick of his hoof, he broke the circle and the magic field vanished. Instantly, Zecora felt a wash of power flow over her, the power that had been contained within the circle. It surged about on invisible currents of air, wrapped themselves around her for just a moment and then swept through the whole of the tower only to spiral back down to the floor...

And into her companion.

Stars glittered in the shape of a unicorn as the shadows were banished. It—He—turned his head and nodded to her. Then he began to ascend the steps.

Zecora looked to Zerrin and bowed her head. He bowed to her in return.

“I promise that this is the right course to take. I know just what is at stake.”

“I pray that you do, my fellow Weaver. If you fail, our land will boil in fever.”

With that, Zerrin stepped over to the snoring form of his sister. Zecora assisted him in putting the mare on his back and before he departed the ruined Observatory. He did not look back once.

Zecora bowed to him anyway then made for the stairs.

---

“What is it? What is it?”

“Settle yourself, Little Shade, my dear. Do not fret, we will make things clear.”

“You’re silly when you talk like that.”

“It is the Weaver’s Tongue, my dear filly. When one holds the gift, it is okay to be silly.”

“So what is it? I need to know! I have to know! I’ve waited for so long!”

“Settle yourself, cease your scurry, I have a tale for you which time has made blurry.”

“Yay! A story! I love your stories, Papa!”

“As well I know, beloved child, you love them even when you are quite wild. But first, I shall tell you what this glyph means. For this glyph may take you far beyond our village greens.”

“Don’t keep me waiting! Tell me! Tell me!”

“Your glyph is a symbol of great import. Those on the Path will definitely want a good report. For you see, that which you see as your new boon, it is born of both the Sun and the Moon.”

“Sun and the Moon? Why? Why is that important, Papa?”

“The central spiral now on your side, It is the Moon glyph quite simplified. The flickering flares around the edge, those marks to the Sun must pledge.”

“So… it’s like one of the mythical eclipses? I don’t like that. Zorda told me stories of that… they were scary.”

“No, Little Shade, this is not an omen dire. Instead, I believe you are meant to inspire. The Moon lies within the embrace of the Sun, as if the Moon were resting and her toil was done. For the Moon was once haughty and vain, and all ended up cursing her name. Legend says of a time when the Moon will return, but the Moon’s heart will remain ever stubborn.”

“I don’t get it, Papa. You said the Sun would embrace the Moon… But they never share the sky… And now it’s my destiny to make them hug?”

“Ah, child, I speak not of destiny, but of potential. But I believe it safe to say that your life will be far from dull.”

“I still don’t get it. Weaver’s Tongue is hard.”

“Weaver’s Tongue is difficult indeed, but you will learn it when you have need.”

“But you promised me a story! That wasn’t much of one!”

“As I said, so I shall do, if only to see a smile from you. I speak now of ages now long past, of two sisters ruled the heavens, though it was not to last…”



Zecora followed the unicorn of starlight to the top of the tower. Even as she set hoof on the stone, she could tell the magic here was different. A being both wise and strong had placed enhancements upon these rocks. Even now, the enchantments pulled from Mother Earth and the wild forest beyond. She could even feel a tug upon the Everlasting Balance from her new vantage point.

The unicorn stallion stepped over the long drop to the floor below and then turned on air and nodded at her. A flash came over her, though this was a single thought.

Expectant: The reflection of the Moon in a mirror.

Zecora nodded and approached the ledge. Beneath her, the motes of light surrounding the Moon Lantern had worked themselves up into a frenzy. The patterns were no longer green and blue. Instead, it had become a blur of silver-white light, like a miniature moon nestled in the grass of the tower floor.

It took more courage than she wanted to admit to pull off all of her anklets. She placed them in a circle around her and knelt until her belly touched the surprisingly warm stone beneath. Finally, she placed the ancient anklet that had been passed down for nearly ten centuries at the edge of the broken stones.

The unicorn smiled. It was the first time Zecora had seen her companion show true emotion. That simple act quelled the fear that she may be too late.

The four other anklets ignited in ancient magic, swirling with bright golden light. Nearly a minute passed before they erupted with beams of white radiance, all aimed at the fifth and final golden band. Instantly, the flowing script of ancient Equestria came to life. It took flight and lifted itself over the budding Moon Lantern. Her companion stepped aside and watched it with an intense expression of concentration.

The inner circumference of the anklet burst with starlight. Zecora squinted against the radiance, knowing that the tower would shine like a beacon for hundreds of leagues. But she forced herself to look. She needed to see. She needed to watch.

A beam of pure starlight erupted from the Moon Lantern below, pierced the center of the golden ring and shot into the sky. Zecora’s eyes tracked the streak of light until it finally reached a single star in the velvet dark. The star erupted in a brief, brilliant burst of rainbow light, before becoming nothing more than an ordinary speck once more.

At least, that’s what any witnesses would believe.

The anklet hovered back over to Zecora, her companion ever watching. She took it in her hooves and stared up at the sky and to the shadow on the surface of the Moon. She had been taught the figure’s name in both Equestrian and Zebrican.

She had first known her as ‘kivuli juu ya mwezi.’

Equestria knew her as the ‘The Mare In the Moon.’

The other three stars were approaching their destination. Zecora gently shifted her anklet and the appointed star moved in response. It took a delicate touch, but it didn’t take long for her to have her star moving in balance with its companions.

Magic of Moon, Star, Sun and Earth flowed through her into the anklet, and through that into the sky itself. In every motion, she felt the hooves of her Mshauri, her Papa and the hope of every zebra who had ever walked the Path to fulfill this sacred Promise. To honor this great Pact.

To finish the Path.

When the stars finally touched the Moon, the sudden disappearance of the shadow who had dominated the orb’s surface for so long was almost anticlimactic.

But in that instant, she felt pride. Not her own, but the pride of generations of zebras looking upon her with warmth from the heavens above.

And then, her companion spoke.

The voice was deep and old with a strange accent Zecora had never heard before. It was the voice of scholar and seeker. A voice of a Weaver, though she knew the figure had never known the alchemical wonders and shaman traditions of the zebra tribes. And yet, the voice carried with it a strange sense that it was speaking into her mind, using words she knew. As if the language it spoke was not what she heard.

“Though I am now long departed and you have never seen my face, you know of me. You know of the Promise. You know of the Pact. And you held to it through a thousand years. While there are many who may believe Her Highness to be behind this, even she could not do this. I was forced to take action. To save the soul of a friend. Though turmoil will reign for a time, I trust in Harmony. I trust Harmony will find a way to restore the balance within her darkened heart. I do not know what this night cost you, but you have an old pony’s eternal gratitude for playing your part.”

The stallion turned to look at the now-blank surface of the Moon.

“When the Sun rises once more, Her Highness will receive my full confession. My words will keep any wrath from you. As a sign, I ask you to wear this band and remember you are one of the four who saved a single pony. And in so doing… you may have saved the world, if the Visions are to be trusted.”

The stallion turned back and smiled once more.

“Thank you for carrying me all these years. I knew the Zebra people would be strong enough to carry the burden I placed upon them. I knew I would not be disappointed. Know that even now, I honor you and thank you for all you have done for my friends. In my long life, I have made many mistakes. Though the risk is great… in my heart, I know this is not one such mistake. May Harmony light your path now and forever after.”

With that, her companion faded into glimmering starlight, dispersing like a cloud of sparkling dust. The anklet’s glow dissipated and it settled into her hooves. Zecora smiled down at it and felt a strange warmth in her chest.

She looked to the west and saw the ancient ruins of a long-forgotten castle. From this spot, she could almost believe she saw a glimmer of light from the ravine that cut through its side.

“And now the world rests with you, that which the ponies call ‘Harmony,’” Zecora whispered. “May this act allow your dear friend to once again be free.”

---

“Aaah?”

“It is almost time, my dear Little Shade. This is a wonderful night. The night of your Naming! Not only that, but Everlasting Balance has granted me a vision.”

“Hah!”

“You are too young to know its import. But in the coming moons, your Papa will take up the Weaving Tongue. Before then, I want you to hear this in the Popular Tongue. For one day, you will be one of the Four Aides. I have seen it.”

“Oooh! Grabah!”

“The ponies of Equestria these days know only the legend. The prophecy given by Starswirl the Bearded. One of the greatest of their Wise Weavers. They know only half of the story, as was his desire. Even now, I think it’s been simplified too much.”

“Gaga Oooh Ba!”

“Yes, my dear. It goes like this: ‘On the longest day of the thousandth year, four stars will reopen the door for the Moon. Once more she will come forth, to bring nighttime eternal and break the Balance.’”

“Oooh? Baaaaa…”

“Today, I tell you the rest, my dear Little Shade. I know not why the Everlasting Balance wishes me to tell an infant things of such import, but I am moved to do so.”

“Baaahahaha!”

“The second part of the legend, known only to the Keepers of the Stars and those who walk the Path, is this: ‘On the same day, six will come forth to save the Moon’s soul. In so doing, they will save all races and all peoples. And the Balance will come again upon the land.’”

“Gooo haha! Haha!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, come, my daughter. It is time for you to be presented. To think that this tiny foal will help restore the Everlasting Balance to the world. My dear, you have the potential to do this. You will have the choice to do this. But I know your heart. And you will choose wisely, little Zecora.”

“Eee? Core? Ah?”

“Yes, my dear little one. Zecora.”



“It’s Zecora, isn’t it?”

Zecora looked up from her work on the great baobab trunk. Even now, the alchemical brews were reshaping the tree into what would soon be her new home. She carefully finished applying the paste to what would tomorrow be a window, stood and trotted around the tree.

To her surprise, a small white unicorn stood in the clearing around her new home. She looked rather out of place in the wild forests of the Everfree with her neatly brushed brown mane, white cravat with red tie and black glasses. Yet for some reason, she didn’t seem ill at ease. Zecora found this surprising. After all, two weeks ago when she had attempted to make contact with the local town—a place called Ponyville—and they had been terrified at her approach.

“Yes, my little pony friend, that is my name. I find myself surprised to see another, for this place is not tame.”

The unicorn looked taken aback for a moment. A clipboard appeared at her side. She scribbled a note and it vanished.

Then, to Zecora’s shock, the unicorn bowed to her.

“Forgive me, Master Weaver. I did not know of your station, or else I would have addressed you properly.”

Zecora’s jaw dropped open. What did ponies know of the ways of Weavers?

“No offense was taken, my bespectacled friend. Though that you would know what I am surprises me to no end.”

“I ask your indulgence, Master Weaver. I am Raven, Princess Celestia’s personal aide. I have been searching for you on her behalf, though I admit finding you here was not what I expected.”

“I have found much wonder within this forest you call Everfree. The miracles within plants and herbs seem to have no boundary. After speaking with a Weaver from another clan, I have decided to stay within for a span. I did not check with the Sun about this arrangement, so I do hope I have not caused any estrangement.”

“No, of course not,” Raven said with a shake of her head. “You are welcome to stay in the Everfree Forest as long as you like. Indeed, Equestria itself owes you a debt it can never repay. But more personally, Princess Celestia and… and…” The unicorn coughed as if something were caught in her throat, “Princess Celestia owes you a debt beyond words.”

“There is nothing special in what I have done. I am simply happy once more to see the Sun.”

“You are far too humble, Master Weaver. You and the actions of three others like you saved Princess Luna. The four of you… and Starswirl.”

Zecora cocked her head. “So the vision spoke true? Of Starswirl’s plans, none knew?”

“Not even Princess Celestia.” Raven slowly shook her head. “Between the two of us, she wants to both hug and strangle that old coot. He set all this up just after Luna’s banishment. For a thousand years, Celestia’s been working toward a single moment… the salvation of her sister. And…”

Raven lifted her glasses in a field of light red magic as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“…And you were a part of that. Her Majesty wanted to come herself… but she… she doesn’t want to leave her sister…”

Zecora lifted a hoof with a smile. “I understand, my unicorn friend. There is much to celebrate when such a parting is at its end.”

“I want you to know that if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask. Princess Celestia can never repay her debt to you… but she will try with all the power at her disposal.”

Zecora paused for a moment, wondering just what she could do with the favor of the Equestrian Princesses. However, the thought was fleeting. With her life’s Path now complete and the Everlasting Balance restored… she had decided on a new path for her life. There was so much wonder within the Everfree Forest. She knew her work as a Weaver in this place would benefit all races in time.

In the end, the path was the same… it was about helping others, be they pony or zebra, griffon or dragon. She had saved one and in so doing, perhaps saved others, if Starswirl’s vision was true. But that didn’t mean she her journey was complete.

The Path never ended.

“I thank you, friend Raven, for your words most kind,” Zecora replied with a smile. “But I have no need of aid, either mundane or divine. I have set my path on exploring this special place and I will do it for the benefit of every race. Instead, I offer something to you in return… I ask one day that I may meet them to learn.”

“It will be some time until Princess Luna is strong enough to see anypony.” Raven smiled. “But I’m sure you’ll be among the first she sees. You opened the door even knowing what it could cost.”

“I agree that great could have been the cost… but had I not acted, what then would have been lost?”

Raven choked back another sob. Then, to Zecora’s utter surprise, the white unicorn galloped up to her and wrapped her in a hug. Zecora wasn’t sure what else to do, so she hugged her back. She found she enjoyed the sensation. It had been a long road. A lonely one. A necessary one. But at that moment, she realized that while she may be alone… she was no longer lonely.

The unicorn eventually pulled back with a tear-stained smile and adjusted her cravat.

“Forgive me, Master Weaver. It has been… an emotional time for us all.”

“There is no need for titles with me, friend Raven. If you call me Zecora, I will not think it brazen.”

“Zecora, then.” Raven said with a smile. “Then I will leave you with my eternal thanks… and the thanks of both Princesses. Please, if you need anything, only ask.”

“But of course, though now there is nothing I need, save to study the wonders about us, which are grand indeed.”

Raven nodded, adjusted her glasses again and made to leave, only to pause at the edge of the small clearing around Zecora’s future home.

“If I may ask, Master Weaver Zecora,” Raven said. “I have always heard rumors of those that follow the Path. Why did you do it, knowing what it would unleash upon Equestria… or upon the world? You could not have known about the Elements of Harmony or the Princess’s student.”

“Many misunderstand what it is to walk the Path, for they always feared what could bring about such wrath. No, in the end, the Path was about something much greater, something to strive toward forever after.”

“And what was that?”

Zecora looked around her. Just through the canopy, she could see a tiny sliver of the old observatory where she had heard Starswirl’s words. If she looked east, she could see a bit of a turret to what she now knew to be the Castle of the Two Sisters.

She returned her attention to Raven. “That Path has always been about hope. No matter the scars… and no matter the scope.”

Raven smiled once more and nodded. Zecora could see the understanding in her eyes. Zecora was sure Princess of the Sun and the Princess of the Moon would understand as well.

Raven departed through her own path into the forest. Zecora did not worry after her, for any aide of one of the Princesses of Equestria would have to be formidable indeed. She returned to the growth of her new home, but her thoughts remained on the Path.

In the end, all paths were walked for that most unique of treasures, something that couldn’t be brewed, enchanted or bottled. Something that lived in the hearts of every breathing thing in this world. It was the purpose of the Everlasting Balance, what the ponies called Harmony.

The Path was… and always would be… about hope.