“What does it mean to govern?” Chancellor Neighsay’s voice booms out across the dim auditorium. We sit in silence, bated breaths barely held back. The desire to raise my hoof tingles across my shoulder blade, but if there is a single thing that I have learned in this class, it is the difference between ‘teacher’ and ‘professor’.

Neighsay is the latter.

“No one?” the Chancellor cajoles, gentle and steady as a beating heart. A satisfied smile pulls at his lips. “I see. Well then, allow me to elucidate that for you all.”

He lights his horn. Scrawling cursive bleeds to life on the vast wall of blackboards that line the walls at the professor’s back. They glow bright and brassy as a street lamp, the same color as the Chancellor’s magic, as they appear— casting the pale faces that line the tiered seats into muddy relief.

“At its very core, the ability to govern is the ability to choose,” he begins, falling into the easy, smug cadence we have all grown so used to. “For one to appear unable to choose, one will likewise appear unable to govern.” Neighsay cuts his gaze across the room; those that cannot handle the severe weight duck their heads over their notes and write faster. “Our Empress—may she shine forevermore,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

“May she shine forevermore,” we murmur over the scratching of quills on parchment.

“Our Empress has, as she says, collected the sharpest minds in all of Canterlot to lead our fine nation into its next golden age.” His words are collected, as always, but by the way his mouth moues up in distaste, I can see he disagrees. I purse my lips together so as not to overly enjoy such an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “You attend your apprenticeships to learn the technical tools that will aid the Empress and our nation. You attend this university to learn the skills necessary to lead.” Neighsay’s smooth brow folds into a hint of a frown. I lean forward in my seat, and my breath hitches as he catches my eye with his own, green meeting magenta in the gloom.

“And, perhaps most usefully,” he continues, his eyes boring into me with each syllable. “You have been marked with your aptitude.” Finally his stare breaks, and I allow myself the barest slump of relief. “I suggest you choose to apply yourselves to those skills, that you choose to do the readings and attend to your apprenticeships with all the vim and vigor of your youth, and that you choose to be on time to my lectures.”

Lemon Hearts gulps audibly behind me. Sliding in two minutes after the bells hadn’t been the best choice.

“Now. Let us discuss choice as it applies to everyday governance. Turn to page forty-nine of your textbooks to follow along.” A cool smile spreads across Neighsay’s face once more. “Though I presume Miss Sparkle has already read our text cover to cover at least twice.”

I wince, bow my head, and press my nose firmly into the book.

---

My apprenticeship is useful, I know, but I wish it didn’t take up so much of my time.

Canterlot’s streets are as crowded and noisy as ever this morning. The Summer Solstice is approaching—not that you’d be able to mark it by the overcast sky. An ‘unseasonable downturn’ everyone calls it, as if we ponies don’t control the weather itself. No, this is the will of the Empress, I know: take the sun away for a time to make the ponies miss it all the more, and then bring it back with golden glory, a balm for our souls.

Or a reminder that she can take it away forever more, my mind whispers treasonously. I shake my head to clear it and shove open the door to the small gem shop before me.

“Hello, I’m here for Professor Light’s shipment of—ouch!”

“Pardon me, M’am,” a pale blue unicorn says, already breezing past me. My hoof throbs, utterly unappeased by the apology. I grumble under my breath but let it slide as I shuffle up to the counter.

The shop is as busy as the city itself I realize as I scan the chattering crowd smooshed inside. Signage for a new collection of gemstones lines the walls, the windows, and every other available space; ponies fit into the scant gaps between—unicorns form most of the ranks, but a few pegasi and the odd earth pony have filtered in as well. All of the salesponies who man the counters are already occupied in their wheeling and dealing circus.

To be fair, Professor Light’s orders for sapphires to power the city’s transportation network are regular and pre-arranged. The clerks already have his very reliable money and will continue to receive it regardless of my discontent..

“Tourists,” I mutter instead, turning to the glass case before me. Sparkling magenta spinel, so like my eyes (as I have been told no fewer than thirty-seven times by enterprising sales personnel while on pickup trips for the Professor) advertised for their protean utility: ‘takes and sustains any Level 3 spell or below for three months or your money back guaranteed!’

They’re a trap of course. They’ll last that long, but only just, and the spells will always be a little less effective than using the right tool for the job. But the average pony, unicorns inclusive, would neither know nor care.

I trail down the display, past the sapphires I have been tasked to retrieve, rubies used for heating, emeralds carved with simple electric sigils that any pony could use to power a lamp or house or car. The rainbow of stones bleeds together until I reach the end.

I pause.

My breath hitches in my throat.

I suddenly understand why Shining Rarities has drawn such a crowd.

“Ah, Miss Sparkle, so lovely to see you again,” a clerk says. She slides into place before me. “I see something has caught your eye.”

“T-Twilight is fine,” I say, never once looking up.

“Of course, Miss Twilight.”

“What…” I swallow, my throat gone dry. “What is that?” Some instinct deep inside me has lowered my voice, usually so forthright, into a rasping whisper. I glance up.

“Oh this?” the clerk smiles, long and languid. “You have quite the eye for stones, don’t you, Miss Twilight? This is a Soulfire gem, one of the first we’ve received—the crowning jewel of our Sundance collection ahead of the Solstice celebration. Would you care to take a closer look?”

“...No. No,” I repeat more firmly, but my eyes have dropped back down. “I’m just here for the Professor’s shipment, we need to refresh the elevators by the palace tomorrow–”

“Nonsense, my dear, here you are.” The astute salespony grins, already levitating the sparkling stone out of the glass case and into the silk cloth draped across her hoof, tilting the gem to catch the light. “Is it not the loveliest diamond you have ever seen? Take a closer look.”

Like a moth to the flame, I do, all of my excuses fleeing as if they had never even formed.

It’s beautiful. A sparkling red diamond, clear and clean, cut with facets that throw rainbow across the handling cloth as they catch the light. The edges are sharp, certainly sharp enough to cut glass or maybe even, I think, my flesh itself.

It glimmers in the light like a drop of gemified blood, but more than that, I hear it:the telltale twinkling chime from within, one I’ve heard so many times before but never so strongly as now. Magic, vast and powerful, has been threaded and woven deep within this scarlet stone.

The six-pointed star branded into my flank tingles in response.

“It’s like a setting sun,” I murmur.

The clerk nods, her purple mane bobbing in time with the motion, her pale face placid and pleased as a cat with cream.

“Would you like to hold it?”

I leave the store with an empty wallet and a heavy saddlebag. The Professor’s sapphires on the left weigh considerably more (in reality) than the diamond in my right pocket, but the metaphorical weight more than makes up for the difference. The shimmering sunset stone tinkles and chimes and whispers sweet magical nothings in my ear of all the wonderful things we’ll do together.

---

I slam open the doors to my quarters and just as quickly back shut, leaning against the heavy wood, my heart hammering.

Replacing the crystals that power the lifts up to the palace, I’ll admit it: not my best work. Slacking off that close to the Empress had felt almost heretical, but the red diamond in my bag…

I rush to my desk, light the lamp, and gently pull my treasure free of my bag and its wrappings in one careful flick of my horn.

It’s just as beautiful in the terrible light of my desk lamp as it was in the store, though it doesn’t throw as many rainbows in the dark. But still I can hear it, as I had all afternoon and evening over all of the Professor’s dronings about crystal placement and mana etching that I’ve already heard a thousand times before: the chime of powerful magic, the hum of potential, the chant of possibility.

“What are you?” I ask, soft and wondering as I tilt the stone one way, then the other. It shimmers almost cheekily, and I feel it in my mind. It’s not words, exactly, more… a feeling. One that sends the star on my flank tingling anew and sends a shiver down my body from horn to tail.

The sun setting over the ocean, wind rushing through your mane as you fly towards it. A scarlet comet streaking across the starry sky, quick and true.

It’s the sensation, the idea… of freedom.

I shiver again, push the stone away, draw my hooves back, and I make myself think.

I am chosen by the Empress, the head of our class and marked with the most useful aptitude of all: a talent for magic itself. I can carve a spell into a stone with a thought, mere seconds to the above-average unicorns several minutes. Still an apprentice, but already I have surpassed the current Archmagister in not only raw talent and power, but in creativity–thirty new crystal array patents under my belt before thirty, with six more making their way through the annals of the university to be released soon for public consumption.

I speak the language of magic with the ease of breathing.

And I know. I know not to trust something when you cannot see where it keeps its brain.

I shove back from my desk, the chair scraping harshly across the dark wooden floor. I turn on the lights properly with a spark of my horn, illuminating the dingy walls and threadbare rugs of my room, and ready myself for sleep.

The diamond is less mysterious in the light—a beautiful rock, of course, a rose of perfect craftsmanship. It whispers and reaches, but I don’t have to listen. I let the hum wash over me as I brush my teeth, as I turn off the lights, as I climb into bed.

I will speak with the professor in the morning, and request an audience with the Empress.

---

A unicorn stands in the shining field beneath the blood red moon above, gazing calmly, quietly, upon its majesty. It hardly stands out from the burgundy sky, scarlet grass, and carmine flowers dotting the field, but she gives off the air of one who would never lose track of its course across the sky. The unicorn’s turquoise eyes are the only thing that breaks the monotonous wash of red.

You know in your heart that this pony is named after her fiery mane, and that her personality exemplifies it. Sunset shimmer, your mind puts to words.

(Your mind does not realize that you are dreaming.)

“It is done,” she says simply. “I have found our key, Your Majesty.”

“You are certain?” a haughty voice rumbles. The voice of the moon itself.

“I am,” Sunset Shimmer assures, just as simply. “A unicorn with the talent for magic itself, kept near to the Empress for that very reason. She thinks herself too clever for me—for us.” She smiles, slow and languid, as sweet as it is sinister. “Her pride makes her an easy target.”

The moon regards the red landscape quietly, waiting.

“The Solstice approaches. I can feel it in my Mark, in my heart and soul,” Sunset continues. “Your moon will rise once again.”

The moon swells in the sky, bigger than any you’ve seen.

You will aid them in taking back the throne. The moon will rise, true and proper, over this nation once again. The magic, the beings trapped inside will be free once again.

(You will remember none of this. The Queen of Dreams would never allow her dear sister any kind of warning, after all)

“To the Solstice,” the moon thunders.

“To the Solstice,” Sunset whispers in reply.

---

Weak morning light ekes through my window as I wake, sleep lifting from me like a veil. I sit up, a little surprised. I had been expecting no sun until the Solstice in three day’s time. No matter.

I flip the covers back and clamber out of bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as my dreams melt away like seafoam. I stretch, turn—and catch sight of glimmering red diamond sitting innocently on my desk.

I consider it.

I had wanted an audience with the Empress, I remember. It had seemed such a prudent idea last night, haunted by shadows and my own inner demons and fear. In the light of day, it just seems… silly.

“I cannot bother the Empress this close to the Solstice,” I mutter to myself through my morning ablutions. “She is busy. This is… a non-issue.”

I ready myself for the day, put on my saddlebags, cast a glance back at the stone again as I put a hoof on the door knob.
It’s beautiful, but… it’s just a stone.

I step out the door with the diamond safely tucked into my saddlebag next to my history book. I’m meeting the professor during his office hours after lunch. Maybe I can show it to him then, but he’ll probably be too busy.

Still, I take it with me.

Just in case.