Resistance, Chapter FourResistance
"It is a heretic that builds the fire, not she who burns within it."
The wind bore down heavily on the dimly-lit streets of City One, stirring up eddies of snow into miniature demons that flitted about the orange-hued forms of two near-motionless poniesthe biting cold stinging, slicing, and carving their miserable bodies. Daylight swallowed back tears as she carefully slipped her mother's book into the front of her torn sweater before swiping at her frost-encrusted eyes with a forehoof. Applejack moved to sit close to her, giving her a soft nuzzle.
"She was a good pony, Daylight. Come on, let's see if'n we can't get outta this snow," a shiver wracked the elder pony's frail form and Daylight looked up, concerned. "Ah'm not sure ah'll make it much longer out here " Her kindly, world-weary eyes were frost-rimmed in the worsening weather as a forlorn smile crossed her face. In the glow of the magical street lamps, she almost seemed to s
Resistance, Chapter ThreeResistance
"Praising what is lost, makes the remembrance dear."
A powerful bang rent the frozen air as two ponies, one brightly furred and one greyed with age, were dropped unceremoniously from the air and into a deep bank of snow. Immediately the younger one righted herself, horn still glowing slightly from the residue of her magic, and cast her eyes around to find her bearings.
The sun hung just barely above the horizon here, falling ever closer to sleep, and the air was bitingly cold. It was obvious that this place was much farther to the northeast than City Seven, which had still glared brightly with the harsh light of noon. A slicing wind picked up and drove down upon Daylight, whipping her mane about her face and stinging her eyes. Squinting, she looked around, adjusting slowly to the dim light.
Tall buildings surrounded her, the likes of which she had never seen before. Spiraling towers of glistening white stone reached their fingers hi
Resistance, Chapter TwoResistance
"It is the bright day that brings forth the adder and that craves wary walking."
Ghosts of the Past
That night, Daylight was again haunted by nightmares. She found herself once more standing inside the hollowed-out trunk of an ancient tree, in the middle of the lowest room. A shattered wooden door lay in front of her, its crushed pieces strewn across the entryway like a spilled bag of oats. Outside it was darkthrough the door-less entrance, the stars winked at her across an unfamiliar landscape. Though the scene was otherwise peaceful, tension and fear seemed to hang thick in the air, building with time and putting her on edge.
Suddenly she noticed another pony therethough she had been there all along, she now realized. Before her stood a tall and stately purple unicorn, and though Daylight didn't recognize her features an intense feeling of kinship warmed her heart. It was almost as if Daylight had known her well at some point, but had long
Resistance, Chapter OneResistance
"See now the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire."
Chapter One: Twenty Years Later
Winter came early that year, bringing with it a piercing and frigid wind. The cold ate through anypony caught in its path, and even Daylight's thick wool sweater did little to hold back the chill.
In an effort to be as quiet as possible, she had used her magic to open the front door of her house before carefully stepping out into the darkness, and managed to shut it behind her with naught but a barely audible squeak. With any luck it would not disturb her Aunt, who was curled up in her bed with the deep sleep only elderly and very young ponies could really manage.
Daylight breathed a sigh of relief as she relished the relative safety of the open night. She had spent a great deal of time memorizing the layout of the house she and her Aunt Applejack had always (as far as she could remember, anyway) shared so that she could navigate in pitch darkness. Any l
"Simply the thing I am, shall make me live."
Prologue: Lost in the Fire
Thrumming rain and thrashing leaves overwhelmed the usual silence of the mid-afternoon air. The library was dark, much too dark for anypony to see properly. The tall, book-filled rooms were usually flooded with sunlight, which on most days would pour through the great tree house's numerous windows and spill onto the floor like an overturned barrel of Sweet Apple cider. Today, however, there was no sun to be spiltat least none that could be seen by the unicorn filly that crept through the shelves of the library in search of a family treasure. Apparently, the building's resident dragon had not cared to light even a single candle.
The Pegasus ponies had set up a regular tempest, something that they had to do every so often when a scheduled drizzle was skipped. That seemed to happen quite frequently lately, though no pony was entirely sure why. Lightning arced across the sky, connecting with the