“Come now, Spike. An ancient dragon, an elder of your race apparently, one who flew with the princesses. How much would you want to bet she knew a shocking amount of ancient and forbidden magical secrets, Old Magic aside?” Handy prompted. “I happen to be a gambling man when I know what odds I am playing with, and I’d wager rather heavily that this Meranax knew a great deal indeed. I don't know any draconic secrets, but I don’t need to in order to make an educated guess. She was venerable in age, power, and experience, and all this before submitting to the twisted knowledge of Old Magic and its horrendous power. A power with which an unlearned earth pony could destroy a city in a fit of pique. I could not have saved us, I doubt Whirlwind in the height of his power amidst winter’s fury could have saved us. I doubt every dragon in the Dragonlands, whelp nor wyrm, could’ve so much as inconvenienced her. It's a wonder she was content as she was to lay in her lair all this time.”